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CYCLOPAEDIA

AMERICAN LITERATURE:

EMBRACING

PERSONAL AND CRITICAL NOTICES OF AUTHORS.

AND SELECTIONS FROM THEIR WRITINGS.

FKOM THE EARLIEST PERIOD TO THE PRESENT DAY

PORTRAITS, AUTOGRAPHS, AND OTHER ILLUSTRATIONS.

EVERT A. DITYCKINCK AND GEORGE L. DUYCKIXCK,

IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.

NEW YORK:
CHARLES SOIilBNER

1856.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S55,

BY CHARLES SCEIENEE,

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York.

R. CRAIGHEAD,

ELECTROTYPE!! AND 6TEP.EOTYPEE,

53 Veaey Street, N. T

O A. ALVORD Printer.
23 Gold sued'.

i-»t«arv. Univ. <rf

PREFACE

In submitting the. following work to the Public, it may not be amiss, though the
numerous articles of which it is composed must speak separately for themselves, to
offer a few words of general introduction, setting forth the intent, the necessary limitations,
and presenting a few suggestions, which may give unity to the apparent variety.

The design of the Cyclopaedia is to bring together as far as possible in one book
convenient for perusal and reference, memorials and records of the writers of the country
and their works, from the earliest period to the present day. In the public and private
library it is desirable to have at hand the means of information on a number of topics
which associate themselves with the lives of persons connected with literature. There are
numerous points of this kind, not merely relating to authorship, but extending into the
spheres of social and political life, which are to be sought for in literary biography, and
particularly in the literary biography of America, where the use of the pen has been for the
most part incidental to other pursuits. The history of the literature of the country involved
in the pages of this work, is not so much an exhibition of art and invention, of literature in
its immediate, and philosophical sense, as a record of mental progress and cultivation, of facts
and opinions, which derives its main interest from its historical rather than its critical
value. It is important to know what books have been produced, and by whom ; whatever
the books may have been or whoever the men.

It is in this light that we nave looked upon the Cyclopedia of American Literature, a
term sufficiently comprehensive of the wide collection of authors who are here included
under it. The study and practice of criticism may be pursued elsewhere : here, as a
matter of history, we seek to know in general under what forms and to what extent
literature has been developed. It is not the purpose to sit in judgment, and admit or
exclude writers according to individual taste, but to welcome all guests who come reason-
ably well introduced, and, for our own part, perform the character of a host as quietly and
efficiently as practicable.

A glance at the contents of this work will show that an endeavor has been made to
include as wide a range of persons and topics as its liberal limits will permit. It has been
governed by one general design, to exhibit and illustrate the products of the pen on
American soil.

This is connected more closely here, than in the literature of other countries, with
biographical details not immediately relating to books or authorship ; since it is only of
late that a class of authors by profession has begun to spring up. The book-producers of
the country have mostly devoted their lives to other callings. They have been divines,
physicians, lawyers, college-professors, politicians, orators, editors, active military men,
travellers, and, incidentally, authors. It is necessary, therefore, in telling their story, to
include many details not of a literary character, to exhibit fairly the proportion which
literature bore in their lives.

As the work has not been restricted to professed authors, of whom very few would have
been found, neither has it been limited to writers born in the country. It is sufficient

\\%

VI PREFACE.

for the purpose that they have lived and written here, and that the land has been
enriched by their labors. Indeed it is one of the marked facts in American cultivation,
that in its early formative period it was so fortunate as to start with some of the finest
products of the European mind. The divines of Cambridge, who brought with them to
the New World the seed of literary, as well as of political and religious life ; the men
who taught at Harvard and William and Mary, who first spoke from the pulpits, who
wrote the first historical records, who furnished the supplies for the first presses, were
Englishmen by birth, as they and their successors were by political constitution, down to
the comparatively recent period of the Revolution. Even since that period, the mental
vigor of the country has been as constantly recruited by European minds, as its material
conquests of the soil have been extended by European arms and hands. To ignore this,
would be treasonable to the higher interests of letters, whose greatest benefit is to associate
all nations in intellectual amity and progress. With pleasure we have placed upon
these pages, accounts of foreign scholars and writers who have visited us and lived among
us, frequently enduring privation, and freely expending their talents and energies in the
literary service of the country. It is an honor, as it is a most liberal advantage to
America, that men like Berkeley, Priestley, Dr. Cooper, Witherspoon, Nesbit, Follen,
Lieber, Schaff, Agassiz, Guyot, have freely joined their contributions to the stock of our own
authors. The country has received their books, and profited by their lessons and expe-
rience. It cannot grudge the few pages which justice, no less than gratitude and affection,
assigns to their story.

The arrangement of the work, it will be seen, is chronological, following as nearly as
practicable the date of birth of each individual.

As a record of National Literature, the Cyclopaedia may be divided into three general
periods ; the Colonial Era, the Revolutionary Period, and the Present Century.

Each of these is marked by its distinct characteristics. The writers of the first period
include the New England Puritan school, the patient, laborious, well read, and acute
divines, the scholars who gave life to the early seats of learning, the first race of chroniclers,
several genial observers of nature, as the Bartrams, and an occasional quaint poet,
who penned verses without consulting the pleasure of Minerva. In this period there is
rudeness, roughness, but much strength ; frequently a high order of eloquence ; great dili-
gence, and an abundant collection of materials for history. Harvard College, William and
Mary, Yale, the College of New Jersey, King's College New York, the University of
Pennsylvania, the College of Rhode .Island, and Dartmouth College, were established in
this era. The great men of this period were Roger Williams, Cotton, Hooker, the
Mathers, Blair, Golden, Logan, tire Bartrams, Jonathan Edwards — chiefly proficients in
divinity and science ; while Franklin heralded the more general literary cultivation which
was to follow.

The next, the Revolutionary period, may be said to have begun and ended with the
discussion of legal and constitutional principles. It was inaugurated by Otis, Dickinson,
Jefferson, and Adams, and closed with the labors of Hamilton, Madison, and Jay, in the
Federalist. The political and judicial arguments form its staple. They were the first
distinctive voices of America heard in the old world. There had been as good Puritan
divinity published in England as had been broached in Massachusetts and Connecticut; the
age of Dry den and of Pope had undoubtedly furnished better poets than the land of Anne
Bradstreet and Michael Wigglesworth ; but here was a new experience in government, a fresh
manly interpretation of constitutional right, expressed succinctly, forcibly, eloquently in the
colonial writings, fast ceasing to be colonial, which compelled a hearing, and elicited the
generous admiration of Chatham. Nor was this literature confined to didactic political
disquisition. In Francis Hopkinson it had a polished champion, who taught by wit, what
Dickinson and Drayton unfolded with argument and eloquence ; while Trumbull, Freneau,
and Brackenridge caught the various humors of the times, and introduced a new spirit
into American literature. The intellect of the country was thoroughly awakened. At

PREFACE. Vll

the close of the period in 1799, Dr. Benjamin Rush, whose mental activity had assisted in
promoting the result, wrote : " From a strict attention to the state of mind in this'country,
before the year 1774, and at the present time, I am satisfied the ratio of intellect is as
twenty to one, and of knowledge as one hundred to one, in these states, compared with
what they were before the American, Revolution."

The third period exhibited the results of this increased capacity. It gave a new range
to divinity and moral science, in writers like Charming'; Calhoun and Webster illustrated
the principles of political science ; Marshall, Kent, and Story interpreted law ; Paulding,
Irving, Cooper, Simms, Emerson, opened new provinces in fiction and polite literature ;
Hillhouse, Bryant, Halleek, Dana, Longfellow, sang their profound and sweet melodies ;
the national life at the earliest moment found its historian in Bancroft ; oratory gained new
triumphs in the halls of Congress, and a genial race of writers filled the various depart-
ments of letters, in turn thoughtful, sentimental, or humorous, as the occasion or theme
required. To enumerate them here, would be to repeat the index of these volumes.

In another light, this literature may be looked at in its relations to the several portions
of the country — the kind and extent of the productiveness varying with the character
and opportunities of each region. When the different elements of the question have been
duly considered, it will be found that mental activity has been uniformly developed.
The early settlements of the North ; its possession of the main seats of learning, drawing
together numerous professors ; its commercial centres, calling forth the powers of the press ;
its great cities, have given it the advantage in the number of authors : but without
these important stimuli, the South and West have been vigorous producers in the. fields of
literature. Virginia and South Carolina, whose long settlement and Atlantic relations
fairly bring them into view for competition here, have yielded their fair proportion of
authors ; their literature naturally assuming a political character. It is not a just test in the
comparison to take the results of colleges and great cities, where literary men are drawn
together, and contrast their numbers with the isolated cultivation of an agricultural region,
where letters are solely pursued for their own sake, as the ornament or solace of life, seldom
as a means of support, and where that book-generating person, the author by profession,
is almost wholly unknown. We are rather to look for the social literary cultivation.
Tested in this way, by their political representatives, their orators, their citizens who travel
abroad ; the men who are to "be met at home, on the plantations, and in large rural districts,
there is a literary cultivation in the South and West proportionate with any other part of the
country. • In the number of books on the list of American bibliography, their quota is
neither slight nor unimportant.

It has been an object in this work to exhibit fairly and amply all portions of the country.
The literature of the South is here more folly displayed than ever before. The notices
might readily have been extended, but in this, as in other cases, the work has been govern-
ed by necessary limitations. It is very evident to any one who has looked at the statistics
of the subject, that it would not be practicable, even on the generous scale of these volumes,
to introduce all the writers of the country. With great labor and patience such a work
might be undertaken, but its extent would soon place it beyond the reach of ordinary
purchasers. For that remote end, a complete American bibliography would be required :
and it is probable that at some future time it will be executed. But the plan of the present
Cyclopaedia is different. It required selection. On consultation with the publishers, it
was found that two royal octavos of the present liberal size could be afforded at a mode-
rate price, which would place the work within the reach of the entire class of purchasers ;
that any extension beyond this would involve an increase in cost unfavorable to its circu-
lation. This was the material limit. On the other side the space seemed sufficient for the
display of the comparatively brief period of American authorship, when the whole vast
range of English literature was, successfully for the purpose, included by Messrs.
Chambers in about the same compass.

The next question respected the distribution of the space. It was considered that,

Vlll PREFACE.

under any principle of selection, the story should he as briefly told as possible ; being con-
fined to the facts of the case, with no more comment than was required to put the reader
in ready communication with the author, while matters of digression and essay-writing
should be carefully avoided. The lives of the authors were to be narrated, and their best
works exhibited in appropriate extracts. .

To the early periods, the preference was to be given in fulness of display. Many of
the lives required much curious investigation, in regions not readily accessible to the
general reader. The sympathy shown in this portion of the subject by various eminent
scholars and successful prosecutors of literature themselves, who were occasionally consulted
in its preparation, and who readily gave the most important assistance, seemed additional
warrant to devote considerable space to this research.

The Revolutionary matter presented similar claims. It was novel, much of it not
generally attainable, and it was full of picturesque life. The rapid multiplication of the
literary and scientific institutions of the country has permitted us to speak at length only
of those long established. An account of the early colleges has afforded much interesting
detail, while it has given the opportunity of commemorating many worthies of the past,
whose literary labors were chiefly entitled to notice from this connexion.

The passages to be selected for quotation, in a work of this kind, must frequently be
chosen for their minor qualities. The brief essay, the pertinent oration, the short poem, the
song or squib of the wit may be given, where it would be absurd to mutilate the entire line
of argument of a work on philosophy, or where it would be irreverent to violate the
sanctity of a treatise of divinity, by parading its themes, plucked from the sacred inclosure
of the volume.

The lighter passages of song and jest were numerous in the days of the Revolution,
and may be worth exhibiting, as a relief to graver incidents of the struggle, and as a proof
of the good heart with which our fathers entered into it.

The reader may trace a full exhibition of the admirable productions, both witty and
serious, which grew out of the argument for the Federal Constitution, in the passages from
Hopkinson, Belknap, Hamilton, and others.

It has been further an object in the extracts, to preserve the utmost possible complete-
ness : to present a subject as nearly as practicable in its entire form. The ample page of
the work has allowed us, in numerous instances, to carry this out even with such produc-
tions of length as an entire canto of McFingal, a reprint of the whole of Barlow's Hasty
Pudding, of the Buccaneer of Dana, complete papers by Fisher Ames, Clouverneur Morris,
and others ; while the number of shorter articles has been- occasionally extended to embrace ■
most, if not all, that is of interest in the literary remains of minor authors.

A reference to the index will show, we trust, a worthy design in the selection of
passages from the various authors. We have kept in view the idea, that a work of the
opportunities of the present, should aid in the formation of taste and the discipline of
character, as well as in the gratification of curiosity and the amusement of the hour. The
many noble sentiments, just thoughts, the eloquent orations, the tasteful poems, the various
refinements of literary expression, drawn together in these volumes, are indeed the noblest
appeal and best apology for the work. The voice of two centuries of American literature
may well be worth listening to.

Avoiding, however, further enlargement on this theme, which might r.un into an
unseemly critical analysis of the book, we have left to us the safer and more agreeable duty
of acknowledging the friendly aid which has encouraged and assisted us in a laborious
undertaking. Many a letter of sympathy and counsel has warmed us to renewed effort in
the progress of the work. It has been our care to indicate on its appropriate page the
obligations due to others, and, if we may adopt the words of that good old divine and poet,
Dr. Donne, "to thank not him only that hath digg'd out treasure for me, but that bath
lighted me a candle to the place."

To our predecessors in these labors, ample acknowledgments are due, from the first

PREFACE. IX

collections of American verse, in the last century, by Elilm II. Smith and Mathcw Carey, to
the excellent labors at the present day of Kettell, Everest, Griswold, and others. To their
works we may appropriately add the numerous collections of local literature, as the Boston,
New Hampshire, and Charleston books. In the earlier departments, special recognition
should be made of the valuable biographical dictionaries of Eliot and Allen ; in the later,
of the industrious biographical labors of Mr. J. S. Loring, in the several editions of his
" Boston Orators."

We have been under great obligations to several of the public libraries, and the efficient
acts of courtesy of their librarians. Of these institutions, we may particularly mention
the rare collections of the Massachusetts Historical Society, of the Boston. Athena?um, of
the library at Harvard, of the American Antiquarian Society at Worcester, of the Library
Company and the Library of the American Philosophical Society at Philadelphia, of the
Historical Society, of the Society, Mercantile, and Astor Libraries of New York. We
never left one of these institutions without a new sense of the magnitude of the subject
before us. In this connexion, we cheerfully express our thanks, not merely as an aid, but
as an honor to our enterprise, for the cordial cooperation of the Rev. John L. Sibley of Har-
vard, Charles Folsom of Boston, Mr. S. F. Haven of Worcester, Mr. E. C. Herrick
of Yale, Messrs. J. J. and Lloyd P. Smith of Philadelphia, Mr. Philip J. Forbes, Mr.
George H. Moore, Mr. S. Hastings Grant, and Mr. J. G. Cogswell of New York.

Numerous private collections have been freely opened to us. We have been favored
with the use of many rare volumes from the choice and costly libraries of Mr. J. Carter
Brown of Providence, Mr. George Ticknor of Boston, the Rev. Dr. Hawks, Mr. George Ban-
croft, Mr. James Lenox, Mr. E. B. Corwin of New York ; while important incidental aid in
this way has been rendered us by Mr. J. Pennington, Mr. Charles J. Ihgersoll, Mr. Henry
D. Gilpin, Mr. J. T. Fisher, Mr. C. B. Trego, Mr. W. B. Reed, Mr. II. C. Baird of
Philadelphia ; Professor Gammell of Brown University, Mr. Joseph Johnson and Mr.
John Russell of Charleston, South Carolina ; Mr. Samuel Colman, Mr. George B.
Rapelye, Mr. John Allan, and Mr. W. J. Davis of New York. To both the library and
valuable counsel of Dr. John W. Francis of New York we have been under repeated
obligations.

To Mr. Washington Irving we are indebted for a special act of courtesy, in his contri-
bution to the notice of Allston of an interesting series of personal reminiscences. We
are under like obligations to Dr. Francis, for a similar recollection of Philip Freneau.
One of the last letters written by the late Col. D. J. McCord of Columbia, South Carolina,
was a communication printed in its place, on Dr. Thomas Cooper. The privilege of
friendly consultation with the Rev. Dr. Osgood of New York has introduced us to much
of the abundant literature of his religious denomination. We have also received cordial aid
from Mr. Henry T. Tuckerman, whose published writings afford many illustrations of the
topics of these volumes. Other acknowledgments appear on various pages of the book.

In the department of Southern literature, where information rests largely in the hands
of individuals, we have been greatly strengthened by correspondence with Mr. W. Gilmore
Simms cf South Carolina, bringing with it a train of kindly assistance from others ; and
with Mr. John Esten Cooke of Richmond, which opened .to us frequent avenues to infor-
mation in Virginia. To Mr. Harrison Hall of Philadelphia, and his brother Judge James
Hall of Cincinnati, we are under similar obligations in other regions of the country. From
Professor Porcher of the Charleston College, President Swain of the University of North
Carolina, Professor Totten of William and Mary, Mr. Gessner Harrison of the University
of Virginia, Professor North of Hamilton College, Mr. Win. W. Turner of the National
Institute, we have received assistance in the notices of the several seats of learning
with which they are connected. It may not be amiss here, for the prevention of possible
comparisons in future, to state, that in some instances — to the extent, perhaps, of three or
four pages of the book — we are under a debt to ourselves, having drawn upon a few critical,
papers heretofore printed in the L terary World.

X PREFACE.

Not the least difficult portion of the work has been the preparation of the numerous
portraits. They have been frequently obtained from original sources, and are now
engraved for the first time, from old paintings, or recent daguerreotypes and photographs.
If they prove of interest to the purchasers of the book, proportioned to the care often
expended upon them, the publisher and editors may be well satisfied. A few choice daguer-
reotypes are from the hands of Messrs. Southworth and Hayes of Boston, and Mr. Richards of
Philadelphia, while a large number have been taken by Mr. M. B. Brady of New York, — a
sufficient guarantee of this stage of the work. The drawings from them have been made
by Mr. W. Momberger of this city. The engravings are by Mr. W. Roberts. For several
of the vignettes we are indebted to the Homes of American Authors, at present published
by the Messrs. Appleton.

A large number of the autograph illustrations were kindly placed at our disposal by
the Rev. Dr. W. B. Sprague, of Albany, New York. Valuable aid of this kind has been
freely given by others.

The accuracy of the work has been greatly promoted by the cooperation of Mr. W.
H. Smith, who has been long known to many of the scholars of the country as proof-
reader in the office of Mr. Robert Craighead, where the Cyclopaedia was put in type.

In conclusion, we may, we trust, ask a generous and kindly consideration for a work
of much difficulty. Inequalities and short-comings may, doubtless, be discovered in it.
" Errors Excepted," the usual phrase appended to a merchant's account, the gloss upon all
things human, may with propriety be added at the termination of an undertaking of this
nature.

The perfection of such a work is the result of time and experience. The
present volumes may perhaps fall into the hands of some who are able and willing
to afford additional information ; and this may be employed in the supplements to future
editions, if indeed the book shall attain such desirable repetitions. We need not say, that
any suggestions, looking fairly to the design of the work, will be welco'-ie. In the delicate
duty to contemporaries, every hour adds to the opportunities of such an undertaking : but
the authors of the day are well able, in their own writings, to speak for themselves. We
may be allowed to insert a caveat against the pretension that we have not omitted
some of the true worthies of America — though the reader will perhaps be reminded, on
the other hand, of the story told by Sir Walter Scott, of the laird on a visit to his
friend in the country. He was about taking his departure homewards, when he thought
of interrogating his servant, who had been engaged in packing his portmanteau. " Have
you put in everything that belongs to me? " " At least, your honor," was the candid reply.

There is an old passage in the dedication of the venerable Cotton Mather's Decennium
Lvctiiosum, which is perhaps a good sequel to the anecdote in this relation. "Should any
Petit Monsieur," says he, " complain (as the captain that found not himself in the tapestry
hangings, which exhibited the story of the Spanish invasion in 1-588), that he don't find
himself mentioned in this history, the author has this apology : he has done as well and as
vnich as he could, that whatever was worthy of a mention, might have it ; and if this collection
of matters be not complete, yet he supposes it may be more complete than any one else
hath made ; and now he hath* done, he hath not pulled up the ladder after him: at/ten
may go on as they please with a completer composure."

New Yoke, August 16, 1S55.

CONTENTS OF VOLUME I.

PAGE

GEORGE SANDYS 1

Passage from Ovid's Metamorphoses.

WILLIAM VAUGHAN 2

Passages from the Golden Fleece and Church Mili-
tant.

WILLIAM MOEELL 2

Passages from Nova Anglia.

WILLIAM WOOD 3

Passages from New England's Prospect.

GOOD NEWS FROM NE1' ENGLAND ... 4
The New England Preachers.

CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH 5

Story of Pocahontas.

The Sea Mark.
THOMAS HARRIOT— ALEXANDER WHITAKEE—
WILLIAM 8TRACIIEY 7

HARVARD COLLEGE 8

Pietas et Gratulatio.

THE BAY PSALM BOOK . . . . . .10

NATHANIEL WARD 18

Prefatory Lines to the Poems of Anne Bradstreet.

JOHN COTTON 21

On my reverend and d'-ar father, Mr. Thomas Hooker,
late Pastor of the Church at Hartford, on Connecti-
cut.
A thankful acknowledgment of God's Providence.
Lines on bis removal from Boston.

JOnN NORTON 23

Picture of a Student's life.

TliOMVS HOOKER 24

From "Th ■ Application of Redemption-"

From "Tiie Doubting Christian drawn to Christ."

ADAM WINTHROP 25

Verses mad.' to the Lady Mildmay at ye birth of ber
Sonne Henery.

JOHN WINTHROP 25

or a few persons who left the Colony in 1642.
Liberty and Law.

THOMAS MORTON 28

Passages from New England's Memorial.

WILLI \M BR \DFOED 30

Of Boston in New England.
Fragmentary Poem oh New England.

JOHN DAVENPORT 31

ROGER WILLIAMS 32

Poems on Life with the Indians.
Conference between Truth and Peace.
Plea for John Clarke.

JOHN CLARKE
SAMUEL GORTON .
EDWARD JOHNSON
JOHN ELIOT .

38
38
30
89

DANIEL GOOKIN 43

Eliot's Teaching.

THOMAS SHEPARD.

Shipwreck off Yarmouth.
Views of Toleration.

PAGE
ROGER CLAP 44

New England Retrospect.

NATHANIEL MORTON— PETER BITLKLEY— JOSI-
AH WINSLOVV— EDWARD BULKLEY— SAMUEL
STONE— JONATHAN MITCHELL— JOHN SHER-
MAN-JOSHUA 8COTTOW 45

ANNE BRADSTREET 47

Contemplations.
. Old Age recounts the history of the Puritan period,
from " The Four Ages of Man."
Alexander meets Darius, from " The Four Monarchies

of the World."
The Flesh and the Spirit.

PETER FOLGEE . 52

A Looking-glass for the Times; or, the former Spirit of
New England revived in this genen.ti.rn.

WILLIAM HUBBARD 50

MICHAEL WIGGLESWORTH 57

Meat out of the Eater.
A Prayer unto Christ.
A Song of Emptiness.

INCREASE MATHER 59

COTTON MATHER 59

An hortatory and necessary Address, to acountrv now
extraordinarily alarmed by the wrath of the Devil.

The Tarantula.

The life of Mr. Ralph Partridge.

Ministry of Angels.

Psalm C.

On the death of his son.

On the death of his daughter.

BENJAMIN TOMPSON 66

New England's crisis. w

OUR FOREFATHERS' SONG 68

THOMAS MAKIN 68

Praises of Pennsylvania.

JOHN JOSSELYN 69

Voyage to New England.
JOHN WILLIAMS TO

Passages from "The Redeemed Captive."

JOHN LEDEEER 71

Travels in Virginia.

FRANCIS KN VPP . . . . . . . . 72

A New England pond.
Birds and fishes.

BENJAMIN COLMAN 78

Elijah's ascension.

To Urania, on the death of ber first and only child.

WILLIAM BYRD 74

Passages from "The Westover Manuscripts."

JAMES LOGAN 77

The intellectual delight of age, from his translation of
Cicero.

ROGER WOLCOTT 79

Proverbs xviii. 14, — "A wounded spirit who can
bear ?"

CADWALLADEE COLDEN 80

THOMAS PEINCE .... ... 81

WILLIAM AND MAEY COLLEGE . . . . S2

xn

CONTENTS.

TALE COLLEGE
JONATHAN EDWARDS
CHAELES CHAUNCEY . ^.

PAGE

. 85

THOMAS CHALKLEY

Passages from his lite, labors, travel, &c.

AQUILA EOSE

To his companion at sea.

Piece wrote by him for the boys who carried out the
weekly news-papers to their master's customers
in Philadelphia; to whom commonly every New-
Year's day, they present verses of this" kind.

SAMUEL KEIMEE '. .

An elegy on the much lamented Death of the Inge-
nious and well-beloved Aqtjila Eose.

The sorrowful lamentation of Samuel Keiiner. Printer
of the Barbadoes Gazette.

GEOEGE WEBB

Batchelors' Hall : a Poem.

95
96

JOSEPH BEIENTNALL

Lines prefixed to Webb's "Batchelors" Hall."

JAMES EALPH

BENJAMIN FEANKLIN ....
A Parable against Persecution.
The Ephemera ; an emblem of human life.
The Whistle.

Dialogue between Franklin and the Gout.
Paper; a poem.
My plain country Joan.
The mother country.
The Mechanic's Song.

DAVID FRENCH

Odes of Anacreon.

MATHEE BYLE3

To — Desiring to borrow Pope's Homer.

A full and true account of how the lamentable wicked

French and Indian pirates were taken by the valiant

Englishmen.
Passages from a Sermon on Death.
The Butterfly, a Type of the Eesurrection.
Passage from " The Conflagration."'
New England Hymn.

JOSEPH GEEEN .........

Hymn written during a voyage.

The Psalm.

Parody by Mather Byles.

The Poet s Lamentations for the loss of his cat, which

he used to call his muse.
Ode.

JOHN CALLENDEE .

Liberal Principles of Ehode Island.

JANE TUEELL. .

Hymn.

An Invitation into the country, in imitation of Horace.

To my Muse, Dec. 29, 1726.

JOHN SECCOMB

Father Abbey's will ; to which is now added a letter
of courtship to his virtuous and amiable widow.

JOHN BEYEEIDGE

Xo ********

THOMAS COOMBE

Passage from the "Peasant of Auburn."
THOMAS HUTCHINSON ....

128-
130

EARLY CAEOLINA LITEEATUEE .

JOHN OSBOEN

A Whaling Song.

THE EEV. JOHN ADAMS

From a poem on Society.

To my Honored Father on the loss of his sight.

Horace, Book I. Ode I.

JOHN WINTHEOP

Passage from the "Lecture on Comet'."
SAMUEL CCRWEN

Letter to Richard Ward. Beg... Salem.

Passages from his Diary.

BENJAMIN CHUECH ....
A Scuffle.
Death of King Philip.

DAYID BEAINEED

Indian Superstition.

■TAMES McSPAEEAN ....
' The Cold Winter 1740-1.

JONATHAN MAYHEW

Passage from a "Thanksgiving Discourse."

101

102

102
104

116

no

120

124

130
181
132

138

185
136

140
143
144

PAGE

JOHN WOOLMAN 146

Passages from his Diary.

SAMUEL HOPKINS 150

SAMSON OCCUM , .115

WILLIAM LIVINGSTON 151

The Eetreat, from the poem, " Philosophic Solitude."

Favorite Books.

A Wife.

Conclusion.

JAMES OTIS 155

Advantages of Representation.

JAMES BOWDOIN 157

Paraphrase of Economy of Human Life.

EZEA STILES 15s

Extracts from the Literary Diary. Newport, E. L

(till 1777.) '

On Kings, from "Lives of the Judges."

SAMUEL SEABUEY 162

MERCY WARREN 103

From "The Ladies of Castile."

To the Hon. J. Winthrop, Esq., who. on the American
determination, in 1774, to suspend all commerce
with Britain (except for the real Decessaries of life),
requested a poetical list of the articles the ladies
might comprise under that head.

From "A Political Reverie," Jan., 1774.

GEORGE BERKELEY 1C3

Verses on the prospect of planting Arts and Learning
in America.

CTTAELES THOMSON 170

ROBERT ROGERS 170

The War Song.

JOSEPH GALLOWAY 172

HECTOE ST. JOHN CEEVECC3TTR . . . .178
American Farmers' Pleasures.
Song and Instinct.
The Humming Bird.
A Journey with Franklin.

THE LIBEAEY COMPANY OF PHILADELPHIA 177

GEOEGE WASHINGTON 179

JOnN DICKINSON 1S1

PELEG FOLGEE . ■ 103

Dominum collaudamus.

JOHN ADAMS . 1S4

Passages from the Diary.
Fromthe Letters.

HUGH WILLIAJMSON 189

HUGH PETEES . . . . . . . .190

My Wishes.

SAMUEL PETEES 190

Passages from " History of Connecticut."

TnOMAS GODFEEY 195

From "The Prince of Parthia."

Poesy, from "The Court of Fancy.1*

Son:.'.

A Dithyrambic on Wine.

THOMAS PAINE 197

Ode on the Death of General Wolfe.
Reflections on the Life and Death of Lord Clive.
The American Crisis. — Number One.
Liberty Tree.

From the Castle in the Air to the little Corner of the
World.

ETHAN ALLEN 200

Conquest of Ticonderoga.

FRANCIS HOPKINSON 2C9

A letter from a gentleman in America to his friend in
Europe, on white-washing.

Modern Learning exemplified by a specimen of a col-
legiate examination.

Dialogue on the Address of the Philosophical Society
to Dr. Franklin.

Verses.

Description of a Church.

A Morning Hymn.

An Evening Hymn.

An Epitaph for an Infant

A Camp Ballad.

The Battle of the Kegs.

The New Eoof : a Song for Federal Mechanics.

JACOB DUCTTE «»

From " Caspipina's Letters."

CONTENTS.

HENRY CETTGER ....
Passages from Speeches.
The Golden Days of Harry Cruger.

"WILLIAM BAETEAM .
Ephemera.

Crocodiles on the St. John's.
Evening scene in Florida.

EDWAED BANCROFT .

PAGE

. 221

BENJAMIN CHURCH

The Choice, a Poem.

ELIZABETH FEEGUSON ....
Poetical Correspondence.

JAJUES ALLEN

From the Poem on the Massacre.

ST. GEOEGE TUCKER

Stanzas.

THEODORIC BLAND— RICHARD BLAND

NATHANIEL EVANS

AdUulielmum Lauderum, P.P.
To William Lauder, P.P.

WILLIAM HENRY DEAYTON .
Passage from Jury Charge.

THOMAS JEFFEESON

Dialogue between Head and Heart.
Character of Washington.
Moralities,

NATHANIEL EMMONS

Passages from Jeroboam Sermon.

JAMES MOODY

Passages from his Narrative.

JOSIAH QUINCY, Jk

JEEEMY BELKNAP

The Old Confederation, from " The Foresters."
The New Constitution.

ELIJAH FITCH . . . . ' .

The True Christian.
Thj Choice.

LINDLEY MUEEAY

Passages from Autobiography.
Song— To my Wife.

JOHN JAY

From the Address of the New York Convention, 1776.

BENJAMIN RUSH

An Account of the Influence of the Military and Poli-
tical Events of the American Revolution upon the
Human Body.
Biographical Anecdotes of Anthony Benezet.
Biographical Anecdotes of Benjamin Lay.

COLLEGE OF NEW JERSEY

JOHN DAYIES

Hymns.
JOHN WITHEESPOON

Maxim V., from "The Characteristics.1'

JAMES RIVINGTON

Witherspoon's Parody of Supplication. .
Hopkinson's Advertisement Extraordinary.
Freneau's Riviugton's Last Will and Testament.

JAMES M'CLUEG

The Belles of Williamsburg.

Sequel to the Belles of Williamsburg.

THE REDWOOD LIBRARY

223

223
229

235
236

236
237

239

246

249

251
253

JONATHAN MITCHEL SEWALL
Epilogue to Cato.
Eulogy on Laughing.
War and Washington.

HUGH HENRY BRACKENEIDGE ....

An Ode on the Battle of Bunker's Hill.

A Military Song, by the Army, on General Washing-
ton's victorious entry into the town of Boston.

An Election Scene.

Teague a member of the Philosophical Society.

Captain Farrago's Instructions to Teague on the
duello.

An Essay on C >mmon ^ense.

Prophicy of the greatness of America — from "The
Rising G'orv of America."

WILLIAM WHITE

Instructions to Missionaries in China,
ISAIAH THOMAS

BERNARD ROMANS ....

Tea.
DAVID RAMSAY ....

263

264

270
271

275

278

2S5
2S6

PAGE

JOHN PARKE ..... - . . - 3C5

To Melpomene.
To Lollius.

On the Return of Augustus??^ tain.
To Munatius Plancus.

JOHN WILCOCKS . .^Sw; . . 3

The two Peacocks.

Parody on Pope's Ode to Solitude.
JOHN TRUMBULL . 3jS

An Epithalarnium.

The Liberty Pole— M'Fingal, Canto III.
LEMUEL HOPKINS 319

On General Ethan Allen.

Passages from the " Political Green House."

A Plea for Union and the Constitution, from the
" Anarchiad."

The Hypocrite's Hope.
JAMES MADISON . . . ._ . . . - 322

JOHN LEDYARD 324

WILLIAM LINN 326

Washington.

PHILIP FRENEAU 327

^•""""To a truly great man.
I To a would be great man.

Hymn to Liberty.

Lines on Cobbett.

Advice to Authors.

Directions for Courtship.

Lines occasioned by a visit to an old Indian burying-
ground.

The Indian Student; or Force of Nature.

The Dying Indian.

Death Song of a Cherokee Indian.

May to April.

The Wild Honeysuckle.

The Hurricane.

St. Catharine's.

Never sink.

The Man of Ninety, or a Visit to the Oak.

The Almanac Maker.

The New England Sabbath-day chase.

New England and New York.

The Eoyal Apprentice ; a London story.

To the Memory of the brave Americans, under
General Greene, in South Carolina, who fell in the
action of September 8, a781.

On the Memorable Victory obtained by the gallant
Captain John Paul Jones of the Bon Homme
Richard, over the Serapis, under the command of
Captain Pearson.

The Battle of Stonington, on the Seaboard of Connec-
ticut.

A Bacchanalian Dialogue, written 1803.

GOUVERNEUR MORRIS S48

Funeral Oration by the dead body of Hamilton.
The Eestoration of the Bourbons — 1814.

ALEXANDER GRAYDON .... .352

British Officers in Philadelphia before the Revolution.

James Smith, of Pennsylvania, the Signer of tho
Declaration of Independence.

A Prisoner of War in exile, at Flatbush.

Oratory, from "Notes by a Desultory Eeader."

Novels.
TIMOTHY DWIGHT 357

Psalm exxxvii.

The Smooth Divine.

Columbia.

The travelled Ape. — From an Epistle to Col. Hum-
phreys, 1785.

Fall of Empire, from "Greenfield Hill."

Round of American Life, " "

The Village Clergyman, " "

ANN ELIZA BLEECKER 865

To Mr. L * * *

To Miss Catherine Ten Eyck.
PHILLIS WHEATLEY 867

His Excellency General Washington.

Liberty and Pence.

To the University of Cambridge, wrote in 1767.

On the Death of the Eev. Dr. Sewall, 1769.

On the Death of the Eev. Mr George Whitefield,
1770.

A Farewell to America.

BENJAMIN THOMPSON 371

Cooking a Hasty Pudding.

DAVID HUMPHREYS -373

Putnam's Adventure with the Wolf.
Mount Vernon; an ode.
The Shepherd ; a song.

The Monkey who shaved himself and his friends; a
fable.

XIV

CONTENTS.

JAMES THACHER^--^- 378

COLUMBIA COLLEGE 379

MYLES COOPER . . . . . . . .380

Stanzas by an Exile from America.

THE CHARLESTON LIBRARY'— THE NEW YORK
SOCIETY LIBRARY

THE. UNIVERSITY OF PENNSYLVANIA
JOEL BARLOW

The Babylonian Captivity.

Guillotine Song.

08 the Discoveries of Captain Lewis.

Advice to a Raven in Russia.

Hymn to Peace.

The Conspiracy of Kings.

The Hasty Pudding.

JOHN MARSHALL

Washington.

AAEON BANCROFT

George Washington.

HANNAH ADAMS

357 |

358 ;
391 |

404

407

4CS
409

415

HENRY LEE

Champe's Expedition.

From the Funeral Oration on the Death of Gen.
Washington, delivered at the request of Congress.

ROYAL TYLER

From the .'hop of Messrs. Colon & Spondee.

Love and Liberty.

The author keepeth a country school : the anticipa-
tions, pleasures, and profits of a pedagogue.

Anecdotes of Dr. Benjamin Franklin, whom the au- ,
thor visits in Philadelphia.

ALEXANDER HAMILTON 420

The Fate, of Major Andre.

From the Eulogium on Gen. Greene, before the So-
ciety of the Cincinnati.

BALLAD LITERATURE, &c, OF THE INDIAN,
FRENCH. AND REVOLUTIONARY WARS . . 427
Lovewell's Fight.

Tilden's Poems to animate and rouse the Soldiers, 429.
Braddock's Expedition, 430.
Ode to the Inhabitants of Pennsylvania, 431.
Wolfe's " How stands the glass around ?"
John Maylem, 432.
George Cookings.
Benjamin Young Prime, 433.
Hearts of Oak, 434.

Come, join hand in band, brave Americans all, 435.
Come, shake your dull noddles.
The Massachusetts song of Liberty.
Come, cheer up, my lads, like a true British band, 436.
Planting the Liberty Pole.
Ballad of the Gaspee, 437.
Verses on Tea, 438.

Bob Jingle's Association of the Colonies, 489.
On hearing that the poor man was tarred and feathered.
On Calvert's Plains.
Hark, 'tis Freedom that calls, 440.
Miles1 American Hero.
The Bombardment of Bristol, 441.
Bold Hawthorne, 442.
Free America, 448.
Poem on the present war.
Parody by John Tabor Kemp, 445.
Fall of British Tyrannv, a Tragi-Comcdy.
■ Song of St. Tammany, 446.

Rise, rise, bright genius, rise, 447.

Come all you brave soldiers.

Continuation of Hudibras.

Battle of Trenton, 448.

The Fate of John Burgoyne. 449.

Progress of Sir Jack Brag, 450.

Prologue to Zara, 451.

Prescott ballads.

Tribute to Gen. Francis Nash, 452.

Yankee Doodle's Expedition to Rhode Island.

Wyoming Massacre, 453.

Washington, by Wheeler Case, 454.

The Fall of Burgoyne, 455.

Our1 farce is now finished.

The Congratulation, 45(i.

The Siege of Savannah.

Washington the Hero of the West, 457.

Major Andre's Cow-Chase.

Brave Paulding and the Spv, 459.

Song of the Vermonters. 1779, 460.

The American Times, 461.

American Taxation.

Yankee Doodle, 468.

WILLIAM OHAELES WELLS

464

PAGE

ROBERT DINSMOOR 465

Skip's Last Advice.

The Poet's Farewell to the Muses.

The Sparrow.

A Scrap.

FISHER AMES 4G9

Monstrous Relations in Newspapers.

A Sketch of the Character ol Alexander Hamilton.

NOAH WEBSTER .474

NOAH WORCESTER , <79

JOHN ARMSTRONG 4S0

Passage from Newburgh Letters.

GEORGE R. MINOT . 4S1

Treatment of the Acadians, 1755.

SARAH WENTWORTH MORTON .... 483
Song for the Celebration of the National Peace.

WILLIAM DUANE 488

JAGOB CAMPBELL. . . • 484

Liberty.

MASON L. WEEMS 484

Early Anecdotes of Washington.
Keimer's attempt at a new religion, from " The Life
of Franklin.11

JEDIDIAH MORSE 492

ALBERT GALLATIN 492

RICHARD ALSOP 495

Elegy.

A Newspaper Thunder-storm.
Governor Hancock 's Message on Stage Plays.
■ Jefferson's Inaugural — Indian Ameliorations, 1805.

SUSANNA ROWSON .502

Affection.

To Time.

Sonnet.

The Choice.

The I. dependent Farmer.

America, Commerce, and Freedom.

TABITHA TENNEY 504

Passages from "The Adventures of Dorcasina Shel-
dou."

JOSEPH BARTLETT 506

Passages from '* Physiognomy."
Aphorisms.

JAMES KENT 503

The New V- rk Convention for the Adoption of the
Federal Constitution, from an Address before the
Law Association.

ABIEL HOLMES . . . - 512

ST. JOHN HONEYWOOD 513

The elfish Man's Prayer on the prospect of war.
The Purse.

JOSEPH BROWN LADD 515

An Invocation to the Almighty.
Ode to Retirement.
What is Happiness?

SAMUEL LATHAM MITCHILI 517

Krout Club Address.

Turtle Club Address.

Elegy on a Shell — the Nautilus.

Pythagoras and Sappho ; or, the Diamond and the

Rose.
Memorable Occurrences.
Speech of Tammany.

BROWN UNIVERSITY ... ..524

FRANCIS WATLAND 525

Passage from Missionary Discourse,

JOSIAS LYNDON ARNOLD 529

Exegi Monumentum. etc Lib. 3, Ode 30, Horace.

Ode to Connecticut river.

Song.

DARTMOUTH COLLEGE 530

SAMUEL LOW 538

The Winter Fireside.

On a Spring of Water in Kings County, Long Island.

JOHN S. J. GARDINER 534

Passages from Discourses.

WILLIAM DUNLAP 587

Scene from the Comedy, "The Father of an Only

Child."
A Night on the Hudson River with Charles Mathews,

from "The History of the American Theatre."
A Scene with Cooke and Cooper at Cato'fi,£rom "The

Memoirs of a Water Drinker."

CONTENTS.

P.VGK

ALEXANDER WILSON 544

Passat from Journals.

The Schoolmaster.

At Koine on the Susquehanna.

Bob a:«3 Eingan. a tale.

Con:iel and Flora, a soDg.

Auchtertool.

The Blue Bird, from "The Ornithology."

The Fish Hawk.
JOHN EDMUND IIARWOOD 554

Ode to Indolence.

To Miss S — y, on returning the Juvenilia of "Wither.

In a \Y 1.

The Fri-..ds to their opposite Neighbors.

JOHN QDINCY ADAMS 556

Song.

The Wants of Man.

From the "Life and Character of James Madison."

T.IADDEUS MASON HARMS 5G1

The Triumphs of Superstition.
The Littie Orator.

JOSEPH DENN'IE ■ 562

To the Public.
On the Pleasures of Study.
On Meditation.
Ingratitude of Republics.
On Cleanliness.

DAVID EVERETT . 508

Li.ies spoken at a school exhibition, by a little boy
seven years old.
SAMUEL MILLER 569

DE WITT CLINTON 570

Provincial Influences on Literature, from the Dis-
c iurse be ore the Literary and Philosophical
Society.
Parties, from "The Letters of llibernicus."
Literary Taste. " "

DAVID HOSACK 574

FREDERICK DALCHO 575

AMERICVN PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY . . 575
RUTGERS COLLEGE 5S0

JOHN M. MASON . 5S1

From the Funeral Oration on Washington.

JOSEPH HOPKINSON ...... 583

History of the Song of Hail Columbia.

WILLIAM MARTIN JOHNSON 5S5

On a Snow-Flake falling on a Lady's Breast.

Winter.

Spring.

Fame.

Epitaph on a Lady.

CUARLES BROCKDEN BROWN . . . .586
First Appearance of Carwin, from " Wieland."
Yellow Fever Scenes in Philadelphia, 1793, from
"Arthur Mervyn."

THOMAS GREEN FESSENDEN 595

The Country Lovers, etc.

HOSE A BALLOT! 599

Blessings of Christ's Universal Reign.

ELIHU H. SMITH 599

Epistle to the Author of the Botanic Garden.

STEPHEN ELLIOTT 091

CHARLES CALDWELL , . 602

Sketch of the Rev. James Hall, of North Carolina.

' WILLI VM CLIFFTON 604

Epistle to W. Gitford, Esq.,

To a Robin.

To Fancy.

II Penseroso.

Sonsr.

A Flight of Fancy.

WILLIAM RAY 609

Song.

JOSIAH QUINCY 009

JOHN L\THROP 611

Ode for the Twentieth Anniversary of the Massachu-
setts Charitable Fire Society.

ARCHIBALD ALEXANDER 614

Natural Scenery seen by the youth and the man.

WILLIAM WIRT 617

James Waddell, the Blind Preacher, from " The Bri-
tish Spy."

PAQH

Eloquence of the Pulpit, from " The Old Bachelor."
Jefferson at Monticello, from the "Eulogiuin on

Adams and Jefferson."
Patrick Henry, from the "Sketches."

JOHN PICKERING 625

NATHANIEL BOWDITCH 626

JOHN RANDOLPH 027

Passages from Speeches.

DAVID HITCHCOCK ... ... 629

Passage from " The Shade of Plato."
WILLIAM BIGELOW 030

Receipt to make a Magazine.

The Cheerful Parson.
P.OBERT TREAT PAINE, Ja 632

From "The Ruling Paision."

Adams and Liberty.

ISAAC STORY 634

Sign Board.

Ode to Poverty.-

Peter's Adieu to the City.

LEONARD WOODS

WILLIAM SULLIVAN

Sketch of Hamilton, from the "Familiar Letters."

EG ....

630
037

033

EOBEET GOODLOE n.VRr
Passages from Speeches.

MATIIEW CAREY 040

WILLIAM MUNFOED 042

TheGods Mi .g'i g in the Battle, from the twentieth
book of the Iliad. . *
PAUL ALLEN 043

The Child of Japhet.

LYMAN BEECHEE 044

JOHN HENRY HOBAET 045

American Principles of Civil Freedom.

PHILANDER CHASE 040

Father Nash.

JOHN J. AUDUBON 050

Common Mocking-Bird.

JOHN BLAIR LINN 052

Passage from " The Powers of Genius."

HENRY CLAY 054

From the Speech on the Greek Revolution, Jan. BO,

1824.
Address to Lafayette on his Reception by the House of

Representatives, Dec. 10, 1S24.
From the Valedictory Address to the Scuatc, 1842.

JOHN SHAW

A Sleighing Song.

JOnN BEISTED . . . . .

WILLIAM AUSTIN

A Dinner with Godwin, Holeroft, and Wolcot, from
the " Letters from London."

EDWAED LIVINGSTON

ZEBULON MONTGOMEEY PIKE

JOEL E. POINSETT

CLEMENT C. MOORE .
A Visit from St. Nicholas.

F. 8. KEY

Song.
^•- The Star-Spangled Batmer.
Hymn for the Fourth of July.

AMERICAN ACADEMY OF ARTS

SIMON GREENLEAF .

BEVERLEY TUCKER .

HENRY COLMAN ....

HENEY LEE

SAMUEL G. DRAKE

056

057
058

039
660

601
002

668

nENRY M. BEACKENEIDGE

St. Genevieve on the Mississippi at the close of the
last century.

Notices of the author's father, Judge II. 11. Bracken-
ridge.

Adams and Jefferson.

FRANCIS GLASS

PINKNEY'S TRAVELS IN FRANCE ....
Passport Scene at Calais in the days of the Empire.
Fete Champetre in a village on a hill at MontruuiL

001
004
005
066
066
667
60S

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

Seal of Harvard College .
Portrait of Thomas Hoffis .

Harvard Hall, 1682
Gore Hall ....
Autograph of Nathaniel "Ward
John Cotton .
Thomas Hooker
Residence of Thomas Hooker, at

Hartford ....
Autograph of John Winthmp
* "William Bradford
Roger Williams
John Eliot
Daniel Gookin
Thomas Shepard
Roger Clap .
Nathaniel Morton
A. Bradstreet
"William Hubbard
Michael Wiggles
worth .
Portrait and Autograph of Cotton

Mather ....
Autograph of John Williams
Portrait of James Logan
Autograph of Roger Wolcott
Portrait and Autograph of Cad

wallader Golden
Autograph of Thomas Prince
William and Mary College .
Portrait and Autograph of James

Blair ....
Portrait of Elihu Yale .
Yale College . . . * .
Yale Library ....
Portrait and Autograph of Jona-
than Edwards"
Birthplace of Franklin.
Portrait and Autograph of Benja

min Frankliu .
Portrait, and Autograph of Mather

Byles ....
Autograph of Joseph Green
J. Callender .
Thos. Hutchinson
Rev. John Adams
John Winthrop
Benjamin Church
David Brainerd
Portrait and Autograph of Jona-
than Mayhew ,
Autograph of John Woolman
S. Hopkins .
Samson Occam
Portrait and Autograph of Wil

Ham Livingston
Liberty Hall ....
Portrait and Autograph of James

Otis

Portrait and Autograph of Ezra

Stiles

Portrait and Autograph of Mercy

Warren

Portrait and Autograph of George

Berkeley.
Whitehall, Berkeley's residence
The Philadelphia Library .
Autograph of George Washington
Portrait and Autograph of John
Dickinson ....
Pcrtrait and Autograph of John

Adams

Autograph of Hugh Williamson .

PAGE PAGE

9 Autograph of Samuel Peters . 191

10 Thomas Godfrey . 195

11 Portrait and Autograph of Tho-

15 mas Paine .... 197
18 Portrait and Autograph of Ethan

21 Allen 206

24 Portrait and Autograph of Fran-
cis Hopkinson . . ■ 209
24 Autograph of Henry Cruger . 221
26 William Bartram . 224
30 John Bartram . 224
32 Bartram's House .... 225
39 The Old South Church ... 230
42 Autograph of S. G. Tucker . . 236
42 Theodore Bland . 236

44 Richard Bland . 23T

45 Portrait and Autograph of Tho-

47 mas Jefferson . . . * . 239

56 Autograph of Josiah Quincy, Jr. . 251
Portrait and Autograph of Jere-

57 my Belknap .... 255
Portrait and Autograph of Lind-

59 ley Murray . ■ . . . 260

70 Autograph of John Jay . . 263
77 Portrait and Autograph of Benja-

T9 min Rush ... . . 265

Nassau Hall, Princeton . . 273

80 Portrait and Autograph of John

81 Witherspooo 277

82 The Redwood Library ... 286
Portrait and Autograph of II. II.

84 Brackenridge .... 291

86 Autograph of William White . 8o2

90 Antiquarian Society Hall, Wor-

91 cester 303

Portrait and Autograph of David

92 ; Ramsay 304

104 Birthplace of Trumbull . . 3^9

Portrait and Autograph of John

107 | Trumbull 310

I Portrait and Autograph of Lemu-
117 el Hopkins . 319
120 Autograph of James Madison . 823
123 I William Linn . 826
130 | Philip Freneau . 82S
133 j Portrait and Autograph of Gou-
135 I verneur Morris . . . 848
138 ! Autograph of Alex. Graydon . 853
140 Portrait and Autograph of Timo-
thy Dwight .... 857

145 D wight's House in New Haven,

146 from an original drawing 359

150 Portrait of Ann Eliza Bleeeker . SGG

151 Portrait and Autograph of Phillis

Wheatley .... 367

151 Autograph of Benjamin Thomp-

152 son . ... 372
Portrait and Autograph of David

156 Humphreys .... 374

ITuinphievsviile, Ct. . . 876

159 Portrait of Samuel Johnson . 379
Portrait and Autograph of Myles

163 Cooper 880

Columbia College .... 886

165 Portrait of WiMam Smith . . 388

166 The University of Pennsylvania . 890

178 Portrait and Autograph of Joel

179 Barlow 392

Portrait and Autograph of J. Mar-

181 shall 404

- Autograph of A. Bancroft . . 407
1S5 Portrait and Autograph of Han-

189 j nah Adams . . 409

Portrait and Autograph of Ales.

Hamilton ... 422

Autograph of Robert Dinsmoor . 465
Portrait and Autograph of Fisher

Ames 469

Portrait and Autograph of Noah

Webster 474

Portrait and Autograph of Noah

Worcester . . . 479

Autograph of Geo. R. Minot . 431
Portrait and Autograph of Mason

L. Weems .... 485

Pohick Church, Va. . . . 4S7

Autograph of .Jediuiab Morse . 492
Portrait and Autograph of Albert

Gallatin 494

Portrait and Autograph of R. Al-

sop ... . . 495

Portrait and Autograph of James

Kent . ... 509

Autograph of St.John Honey wood 514 .
Portrait and Autogiaph of Samuel

L. MitcMll . . *. . 517
Portrait of Nicholas Brown . . 525
Brown University. . . . 528
Portrait of Eleazer Wrheelock . 531
Dartmouth College ... 532
Autograph of Samuel Low . . 533
Portiait and Autograph of Wil-
liam Dunlap . ... 537
Portrait and Autograph of Alex-
ander Wilson .... 546
Portrait and Autograph of J. Q.

Adams ..... 558
Autograph of T. WE. Harris . . 561
Samuel Miller . 569
D. Hosack . . 574
Frederick Delcho . 575
Portrait of David Rittenhou^e . 576
Autograph of John M. Mason . 5S1
Portrait and Autograph of I. Hop-
kinson 5S4

Portrait and Autograph of C. B.

Brown 5S8

Autograph of T. G. Fcssenden . 595
Portrait of Elihu If. Smith . . 600
Autogiaph of Stephen Elliott . 602
Portrait of William Cliffton . 605
Autograph of Josiah Quincy . 610
Portrait and Autogiaph of Archi-
bald Alexander . . . 615
Portrait and Autograph of Wil-
liam Wirt . . . . 618
Autogiaph of Ji hn Pickering 625
Nathl Bowdilch . 626
John Randolph . 628
Portrait and Autograph of Robert

TicatFaine, Jr. ... 682
Portrait and Autograph of Wil-
liam Sullivan . . . 687
Portrait and Autograph of Ma-

thew Carey .... 641

Autograph of P. Allen . . 643

Philander Chase . 646
Portrait and Autograph of John

J. Audubon .... 650

Autograph of H. Clay . . 654

F. S. Key . 663

B. Tucker . . 665

Henry Col man . 666

S. G. Drake . 668

Portrait and Autograph of n. M.

Brackenridge . - . . 668

CYCLOPAEDIA

OF

AMERICAN LITERATURE

GEOKGE SANDYS.
The first English literary production penned in
America, at least which has any rank or name
in the general history of literature, is the transla-
tion of Ovid's Metamorphoses, by George Sandys,
printed in folio in London in 1626. The writer
was the distinguished traveller, whose book on
the countries of the Mediterranean and the Holy
Land, is still perused with interest by curious
readers. It was some time after his return from
the East, that he was employed in the govern-
ment of the Colony in Virginia, where he held
the post of treasurer of the company. There, on
the banks of James river, he translated Ovid,
under circumstances of which he has left a me-
morial in his dedication of the work to King
Charles I., as he informs that monarch his poem
was " limned by that imperfect light, which was
snatched from the hours of night and repose.
For the day was not his own, but dedicated to
the service of his father and himself; and had
that service proved as fortunate, as it was faith-
ful in him, as well as others more worthy, they
had hoped, before the revolution of many years,
to have presented his majesty with a rich and
well peopled kingdom. But, as things had turned,
he had only been able to bring from thence him-
self and that composition, which needed more
than a single denization. For it was doubly a
stranger, being sprung from an ancient Roman
stock, and bred up in the N"ew World, of the
rudeness whereof it could not but participate ;
especially as it was produced among wars and
tumults ; instead of under the kindly and peaceful
influences of the muses."*

Sandy3 was a gentleman of a good stock, his
father being the Archbishop of York, and the
friend of Hooker, by whom his brother Edwin
was educated. His piety is expressed in his

* Stith, Hist, of Va., Bk. v. He has slightly adapted the
language of Sandys's preface to Ovid.
VOL. I. — 1

"Review of God's Mercies to him in his travels,"
an eloquent poem which he wrote in welcoming
his beloved England, and in which he does not
forget the perils of the American wilderness in

That new-found-out-world, where sober night
Takes from the Antipodes her silent flight,

and where he had been preserved

From the bloody massacres
Of faithless Indians ; from their treacherous wars.

As a poet he has gained the respect of Bryden,
who pronounced him the best versifier of his age,
and of Pope, who commended his verses, in his
notes to the Iliad.* We may quote a few lines
of his Ovid, as a pleasing memorial of this classic
theme pursued amidst the perils and trials of the
early colonial settlement. We may fancy him
looking round him, as he wrote, upon the rough
materials of the Golden Age of Virginia, testing
Ovid's poetical dreams by the realities.

METAMORPHOSIS, BOOK I.

The Golden Age was first; which uneompeld,
And without rule, in faith and truth exceld,
As then, there was nor punishment nor fear ;
Nor threatning laws in brass prescribed were ;
Nor suppliant crouching prisoners shook to see
Their angrie judge. * * * *

In firm content
And harmless ease, their happy days were spent.
The yet-free Earth did of her own accord
(Untorn with ploughs) all sorts of fruit afford.
Content with nature's unenforced food,
They gather wildings, straw'bries of the wood,
Sour cornels, what upon the bramble grows,
And acorns which Jove's spreading oak bestows.
'Twas always Spring ; warm Zephyrus sweetly

blew
On smiling flowers, which without setting grew.

* Holmes, Am. Annals, i. 184. Egertnn Brydges, Censora
Literaria, vi. 135. Bancroft, History United States, i. 284.
There is a copy of the Ovid ex dono T?iomai BoUlt m the Har-
vard Library.

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Forthwith the earth, corn unmanured bears ;
And every year renews her golden ears :
With milk and nectar were the rivers fill'd ;
And yellow honey from green elms distilled

■WILLIAM VAUGHAN.

At about the same time with Sand3's in Virginia,
William Vaughan, a poet and physician from
Wales, took up his residence on a district of land
which he had purchased in Newfoundland. Here
he established a plantation, which he called Cam-
briol, and to invite settlers from England, senthorne
and published his Gobien Fleece^* a quaint tract
in prose and verse, intended through the medium
of satire and fancy to set forth the discourage-
ments of England and the encouragements of
America. In his dedication of the work to King
Charles, the author, who wrote also several other
poems in Latin and English, calls himself Or-
pheus Jr. " Were it not," says Oldmixon, " a
trouble one might remark, that neither the vicar's
lion, nor the pilot's mermaid, is more a prodigy,
than an Orpheus in Newfoundland, though there
was one actually there, if the poet Vaughan was
so.'"t

The Golden Fleece, which is now a very rare
book, is a curious composition of the puritan way
of thinking engrafted on the old classic machinery
of Apollo and bis court. It has sense, shrewdness,
some poetry, and mucb downright railing, — the
last in a school, the satirical objurgatory, which
was brought to perfection, or carried to excess, in
Ward's Simple Cobler of Agawam. Vaughan
vents his humors in a depreciaticn of the times, in
a kind of parody of the Litany, which he puts
into the mouth of Florio, the Italian novelist, then
in vogue.

From blaspheming of God's name,
From recanting words with shame,
From damnation eternal,
From a rich soul internal,
From a sinner will not mend,
From a friend, that will not lend,
From all modern abuses,
From much things to no uses,
From Ignatian's cursed swords,
From an Alchymist's fair words,
From those Friars which cloaks use,
As from such that haunt the stews,
From such sius as do delight us,
As from dreams which do affright us,
From parasites that stroke us,
From morsels that will choke us,
From false sycophants, that soothe us,
As from those in sin do smooth us,
From all profane discourses,
From all ungodly courses

Sweet angel free

deliver me.

Some of Vaughan's descriptions, as in his ac-
count of the fairer sex, smack strongly of old
Burton, whose Anatomy of Melancholy was then
in its first popularity. In the third part of the

* The Golden Fleece, divided Into three parts, under which
are discovered the errors of religion, the vices and decay of the
kingdom, and, lastly, the way to get wealth and to restore trad-
ing, so much complained of. Transported from Cambrioll Col-
chos, ont of the southernmost part of the Island, commonly
called the Newfoundland, bv Orpheus .Tnnior. for the general
and perpetual good of Great Britain. 1626. Small 4to.

t Oldiaixon. Brit Emp. in Am. i. 8.

Golden Fleece there is a commendation of New-
foundland and its bounteous fishery, with many
allusions to historical incidents of the period.

Vaughan's Church Militant published many
years subsequently, in 1640, is one of those long
labored historical deductions in crabbed verse,
which Puritan writers loved heavily to trudge
through. When the weary journey is accom-
plished, the muse, as if exulting at the termina-
tion, rises to a somewhat clearer note, in good
strong Saxon, in view of the English reformation.

The spouse of Christ shone in her prime,

When she liv'd near th' Apostles' time,

But afterwards eclips'd of light,

She lay obscure from most men's sight ;

For while her watch hugg'd carnal ease,

And loath'd the cross, she felt disease.

Because they did God's rays contemn,

And maumets* served, Grace fled from them.

Then stars fell down, fiends blackt the air,

And mongrels held the Church's chair,

But now dispelling error's night,

By Christ his might, our new-man's light,

She may compare for faith alike

With famous Rome's first Catholic,

And paragons for virtue bright

The royal scribe's sweet Sulamite,

Who train'd to zeal, yet without traps,

Her poor young sister wanting paps;

Without traditions she train'd her,

Or quillets, which make souls to err.

So feeds our Church her tender brood

With milk, the strong with stronger foo'.

She doth contend in grace to thrive,

Reproved like the primitive.

She hates the dark, yet walks the round,

And joys to hear the Gospel's sound.

She hates their mind in judgment blind,

Who swell with merits out of kind.

In Christ alone lies all her hope,

Not craving help of saint or Pope.

Poor saints, to show her faith by deeds,

She fills their souls, their bodies feeds.

She grants no weapons for offence,

Save vows and fasting for defence ;

And yet she strikes. But with what sword ?

The spirit's sword, God's lightning word.

Indiff 'rent toys and childish slips

She slights, but checks gross sins with stripes.

Yet soon the strays her favor win,

When they repent them of the sin,

So mild is she, still loathing ill,

And yet most loathe the soul to kilL

Such is the Lady, whom I serve ;
Her goodness such, whom I observe,
And for whose love I beg'd these lays
Borne from the spheres with flaming ray3.

WILLIAM MOEELL.

William Mop.ell, an English clergyman of the
Established Church, came to America in 1623,
with the company sent out by the Plymouth coun-
cil, under the command of Captain Robert, son
of Sir Ferdinando Gorges. Morell bore a com-
mission from the Ecclesiastical Court in England
to exercise a superintendence over the churches
which were or might be established in the colony.
The attempt by this company to form a settle-

* Idols ; the word is used for puppets by Shakespeare. I
Henry IV., Act 2, Scene 8.

WILLIAM HORELL; WILLIAM WOOD.

3

ment at Wessagussett, now Weymouth, in Massa-
chusetts, was unsuccessful. After Gorges's re-
turn, Morell remained a year at Plymouth and
then returned to England, where he soon after
published in Latin hexameters and English hero-
ics, the latter a little rough, his poem Nova
Anglia, which he addressed to King Charles I.
It is mainly taken up with the animal inhabitants
of the land and their conquerors, the native In-
dians. The opening address to New England is
really grand. We have marked one line by italics,
for its stirring tone, in the English portion, which
is something more than a mere literal version of
his Latin. We give both.

NOVA ANGLIA.

Hacteim9 ignotara populi3 ego carmine primus,
Te Nova, de veteri cui eontigit Anglia nomen,
Aggredior trepidus pingui celebrare Minerva.
Per milii numen opem, eupienti singula plectro
Pondere veridieo, quse nuper vidimus ipsi :
Ut breviter vereque sonent modulamina nostra,
Tetnperiem ceeli, vim terrce, munera ponti,
Et varios gentis mores, velamina, eultus.
Anglia felici nierito Nova nomine gaudens,
Saevos nativi mores pertresa Coloni,
Imligiii penitiis populi tellure feraci,
Mcesta superfusis attollit fletibus ora,
Antiquos precibus flectens ardentibus Anglos,
Numiuis seterni felicem lumine gentem
Efiieere : seternis qua? nunc peritura tenebris.
Gratum opus hoc lmlis, diguumque piis opus Anglis,
Angelica? quibus est natune nomen in umbra
Ccelica ut extremis dispergant semina terris.

NEW ENGLAND.

Fear not, poor Muse, 'cause first to sing her fame
That's yet scarce known, unless by map or name ;
A grandchild to earth's paradise is born,
Well litnb'd, well nerv'd, fair, rich, sweet, yet for-
lorn.
Thou blest director, so direct my verse
That it may win her people, friends commerce.
Whilst her sweet air, rich soil, blest seas, my pen
Shall blaze and tell the natures of her men.
New England, happy in her new, true style,
Weary of her cause she's to sad exile
Exposed by her's unworthy of her land ;
Entreats with tears Great Britain to command
Her empire, and to make her know the time,
Whose act and knowledge only makes divine.
A royal work well worthy England's king,
These natives to true truth and grace to bring ;
A noble work for all these noble peers,
Which guide this state in their superior spheres.
Tou holy Aarons, let your censers ne'er
Cease burning till these men Jehovah fear.

This curious poem is conducted with consider-
able spirit. There is this allusion to the Indian
song:

Litera cuncta licet latet hos, modulamina quondam
Fistula disparibus calamis facit, est et agrestis
Musica vocis iis, minime jucunda, sonoris
Obtusisque sonis oblectans pectora, sensus,
Atque suas aures, artis 6ublimis inanes.

And though these men no letters know, yet their
Pan's harsher numbers we may somewhere hear ;
And vocal odes which us affect with grief,
Though to their minds perchance they give relief.*

* The whole poem is reprinted In the Mass. Hist Soc.
Collections, First Series, i. 125-39.

•»

WILLIAM WOOD.
CnEEEFDL William Wood was at that period a
sojourner in the same colony. Returning home
in 1633, he published in London, in 1634, the
first printed account of Massachusetts in New
England's Prospect being, as its title page well
describes it, "a true, lively, and experimental de-
scription."* "I have laid down," says he, "the
nature of the country, without any partial respect
unto it as being my dwelling-place, where I have
lived these four years, and intend, God willing, to
return shortly again."

This tract is divided into two parts, the one
treating of the situation and circumstances of the
colonists ; the other, of the manners and customs
of the native Indians. In the former, in which,
the writer notices the towns bordering the site of
Boston, venturing in one or two instances as far
as Agawam and Merrimack, there are some
curious poetical or rhyming natural history de-
scriptions interspersed, as of the trees, which
reminds us, in a degree, of the famous passage in
Spenser, by whose inspiration it was probably
excited : —

Trees both in hills and plains, in plenty be,

The long-liv'd oak, and mournful cypris tree,

Sky-tow'ring pines, and chesnuts coated rough.

The lasting cedar, with the walnut tough :

The rosin-dropping fir for mast9 in use,

The boatmen seek for oares light, neat, growne

sprewse,
The brittle ash, the ever-trembling aspes,
The broad-spread elm, whose concave harbours

wasps,
The water-spungie alder good for nought,
Small elderue by th' Indian fletchersf sought,
The knottie maples, pallid birch, hawthornes,
The home-bound tree that to be cloven scornes;
Which from the tender vine oft takes his spouBe,
Who twines embracing arms about his boughs.
Within this Indian orchard fruits be some,
The ruddie cherrie, and the jetty plume,
Snake-murthering hazell, with sweet saxaphrage,
Whose spumes in beere allays hot fever's rage.
The dyer's shumach, with more trees there be,
That are both good to use and rare to see.

His versifying talent is also excited by the in-
habitants of these woods : —

The kingly lion, and the strong-arm'd bear,
The large limb'd mooses, with the tripping deer ;
Quill-darting porcupines, and raccoons be
Castel'd in the hollow of an aged tree.

There is fancj' in the last picture, as there is
in his "sea-shouldering whale," in the chapter
"of fish" — but that belongs to Spenser. The
whole passage is curious, and is worth quoting
for its American flavor. The epithets are felici-
tous. He had evidently studied the subject.

The king of waters, the sea-shouldering whale,
The snuffing grampus, with the oily seal;

* New England's Prospect: a troe, lively, and experimental
description of that part of America commonly called New
England — discovering the state of that country, both as it
stands to our new come English planters, and to the old
native inhabitants — laying down that which may both enrich
the knowledge of the mind-travelling reader, or benefit the
future voyager. By William Wood. London: 1635.

t Makers of bows and arrows. — Johnson.

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

The storm-presaging porpus, herring-hog,
Live speariug-shark, the catfish, and sea-dog;
The scale-feue'd sturgeon, wry-mouthed halibut,
The flouncing salmon, codfish, greedigut;
Cole, haddick, hake, the thornback, and the scate,
Whose slimy outside makes him seld' in date;
The stately bass, old Neptune's fleeting post,
That tides it out and in from sea to coast ;
Consorting herrings, and the bony shad,
Big-bellied alewives, mackrels richly clad
"With rainbow colour, the frostfish and the Bmelt
As good as ever Lady Gustus felt ;
The spotted lamprons, eels, the lamperies,
That seek fresh water brooks with Argus eyes;
Those watery villagers, with thousands more,
Do pass and repass near the verdant shore.

KINDS OP SHELLFISH.

The luscious lobster, with the crabfish raw,

The brinish oyster, muscel, periwig,
And tortoise sought by the Indian's squaw,

Which to the flats dance many a winter's jig,
To dive for cockles, and to dig for clams,
Whereby her lazy husband's guts she crams.

His prose shows us little of the poetical and
humorous traits common to many of these early
narratives. There is a short chapter touching
the Indians, which would do honor to the appe-
tizing courtesies of John Buncle.

of their diet, cookep.y, meal times, and hospitality at
ilifal: kettles.

Having done with the most needful clothings and
ornamental deckings ; may it please you to feast your
eyes with their best belly-timbers ; which I suppose
would be but stibium to weak stomachs, as they
cook it, tho' never so good of itself. In winter time
they have all manner of fowls of the water and of
the land, and beasts of the land and water, pond
fish, with catharres and other roots, Indian beans
and clams. In the summer they have all maimer of
sea fish, with all sorts of berries. For the ordering
of their victuals, they boil or roast them, having
large kettles which they traded for with the French
long since, and do still buy of the English as their
need requires, before they had substantial earthen
pots of their own making. Their spits are no other
than cloven sticks snarped at one end to thrust into
the ground : into these cloven sticks they thrust the
flesh or fish they would have roasted, behemming a
round fire with a dozen of spits at a time, turning
them as they see occasion. Some of their scullery
having dressed these homely cates, present it to
their guests, dishing it up in a rude manner, placing
it on the verdant carpet of the earth which Nature
spreads them, without either trenchers, napkins, or
knives ; upon which their hunger sauced stomachs,
impatient of delays fall aboard, without scrupling
at unwashed hands, without bread, salt, or beer;
lolling on the Turkish fashion, not ceasing till their
full bellies leave nothing but empty platters. They
seldom or never make bread of their Indian corn, but
seeth it whole like beans, eating three or four corns
with a mouthful of fish or flesh, sometimes eating
meat first, and corns after, filling up the chinks with
their broth. In summer, when their corn is spent,
isquoterquashes is their best bread, a fruit much like
a pumpion. To say, and to speak paradoxically,
they be great eaters, and little meat men. When
they visit our English, being invited to eat, they are
very moderate, whether it be to show their manners,
or for shame fae'dness, I know not, but at home they
eat till their bellies stand south, ready to split with
fulness ; it being their fashion to eat all at sometimes,

and sometimes nothing at all in two or three days,
wise providence being a stranger to their wilder
ways: They be right infidels; neither caring for
the morrow, or providing for their own families ;
but as all are fellows at football, so they all meet
friends at the kettle, saving their wives, that dance
a spaniel-like attendance at their backs for their bony
fragments. If their imperious occasions cause them
to travel, the best of their victuals for their journey
is Nocake (as they call it), which is nothing but
Indian corn parched in the hot ashes; the ashes
being sifted from it, it is afterwards beat to powder,
and put into a long leathern bag, trussed at their
backs like a knapsack, out of which they take thrice
three spoonfuls a day dividing it into three meals.
If it be in winter, and snow be on the ground, they
can eat when they please, stopping snow after their
dusty victuals, which otherwise would feed them
little better than a Tyburn halter. In summer they
must stay till they meet with a spring or a brook,
where they may have water to prevent the imminent
danger of choking. With this strange viaticum they
will travel four or five days together, with loads
fitter for elephants than men. But though they can
fare so hardly abroad, their chaps must walk night
and day, as long as they have it. They keep no set
meals, their store being spent, they champ on the
bit, till they meet with fresh supplies, either from
their own endeavors, or their wives' industry, who
trudge to the clam-banks when all other means fail.
Though they be sometimes scanted, yet are they as
free as emperors, both to their countrymen and
English, be he stranger or near acquaintance; count-
ing it a great discourtesy not to eat of their high-
conceited delicacies, and sup of their un-oatmeal'd
broth, made thick with fishes, fowls, and beasts,
boiled all together ; some remaining raw, the rest
converted, by overmuch seething, to a loathed mash,
not half so good as Irish bonuiclapper.

GOOD NEWS FROM NEW ENGLAND.
A curious tract, apparently written by a resident in
the colony, was printed in London, in 1648, bear-
ing the title, Good News from New England* It
is more than half in verse, and is a quaint picture
of the age. The sketch of the clergy is charac-
teristic. AVe quote a few paragraphs.

Oh ! wee'l away, now say the poore, our Benefactor's

going,
That fild our children's mouths with bread, look I

yonder are they rowing.
O woe is me, another cries, my Minister, it's he,
As sure as may be, yonder he from Pursevant doth

flee.
With trickling tears, scarce uttering speech, another

sobbing says,
If our poor preacher shipped be, he'll ne'er live half

the way.

THE NEW ENGLAND FEEACHEES.

One unto reading Scriptures men persuades,
One labour bids for food that never fades.
One to redeem their time exborteth all,
One looking round for wary walking calls.
One he persuades men buy the truth, not sell,
One would men should in moderateness excell.

* Good News from New England : with an Exact Relation
of the First Planting of that Country ; a Description of the
Profits accruing by the Work ; together with a brief, but true
Discovery of their Order both in Church and Commonwealth,
and Maintenance allowed the painful Labourers in that Vine-
yard of the Lord ; with the Names of the several Towns, and
who be Preachers to them. London : printed by Matthew
Simmons, 164S; reprinted in Mass. Hist. Soc. Coll., Fourth
Series, i. 195.

CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH.

One for renewed repentance daily strives,
One's for a conscience clear in all men's lives.
One he exhorts all men God's word to hear,
One doth beseech to lend obedient ear.
One he desires evil's appearance shun,
One with diligence would all should be done.
One shows their woe that will not God believe,
One doth beseech God's spirit they'll not grieve.
One wishes none to deep despair do run,
One bids beware none to presumption come.
One wills that all at murmuring take heed,
One shews that strife and envy should not breed.
One shews the hatred God to pride doth bear,
One covetousness cries down with hellish fear.
One to lukewarmness wishes none do grow,
One none for fear forsake the truth they know.

CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH.
The renowned Captain John Smith, on returning
home from service against the Turks, and from a
journey in which he had well nigh exhausted all
that Europe could offer of adventure, and fully
proved the nobility of his nature, at the early
age of twenty-seven turned his attention to the
new world.

In December, 1606, he sailed with others sent out
by the London Company, recently formed by his
exertions, for the Chesapeake. On the 13th of May
the party landed at Jamestown. He returned to
England in 1609, and in 1614- explored the Ame-
rican coast from the Penobscot to Cape Cod. He
again sailed in 1615, but was taken prisoner and
confined in France. On his release he endeavored
to obtain further employment in American adven-
ture, but without success. He died in London in
1631, in his fifty-second year.

In " the true Travels, Adventures, and Obser-
vations of Capt. John Smith," 1629, he gives the
following summary of his American career.

Now to conclude the travels and adventures of
Captain Smith: How first he planted Virginia, and
was set ashore with a hundred men in the wild woods ,
how he was taken prisoner by the savages, and by
the King of Pamaunky tied to a tree to be shot to
death ; led up and down their country, to be shown
for a wonder ; fatted as he thought for a sacrifice to
their idol, before whom they conjured three days,
with strange dances and invocations ; then brought
before their Emperor Powhattan, who commanded
him to be slain ; how his daughter Pocahontas saved
his life, returned him to Jamestown, relieved him
and his famislie 1 company, which was but eight and
thirty, to possess those large dominions; how he
discovered all the several nations on the rivers falling
into the bay of Chesapeake ; how he was stung al-
most to death by the poisonous tail of a fish called
a stingray ; how he was blown up with gunpowder,
and returned to England to be cured.

Also how he brought New England to the subjec-
tion of the Kingdom of Great Britain : his fights
with the pirates, left alone among the French men-
of-war, and his ship ran from him : his sea-fights for
the French against the Spaniards ; their bad usage
of him; how in Frauce, in a little boat, he escaped
them: was adrift all such a stormy night at sea by
himself, when thirteen French ships were split or
driven on shore by the isle of Rhu, the General and
most of his men drowned ; when God, to whom be
all honour and praise, brought him safe on shore, to
the admiration of all who escaped ; you may read
at large in his general history of Virginia, the Somer
islands and New England.

Smith derived no pecuniary advantage from his
services in the colonization of Virginia or New
England. "In neither of these two countries,"
he remarks, " have I one foot of land, nor the
very house I builded, nor the ground I digged
with my own hands, nor any content or satisfac-
tion at all."

Captain Smith was the author of several works
relating to his adventurous life. The first is A
true relation of such occurrences and accidents of
noate as hath hapned in Virginia since the first
planting of that colony, which is noio resident in
the south part thereof till the last return from
thence. Written by Th. Watson, Gent, one of the
said collony, to a worshipful friend of his in
England. London : 1608. This tract, of forty-
two small quarto pages, is printed in black letter,
and is extremely rare. A copy is in the library
of the New York Historical Society — from which
a reprint was made in the Southern Literary Mes-
senger. In a preface signed I. H., the statement
that " some of the books were printed under the
name of Thomas Watson, by whose occasion I
know not, unless it were the over-rashness or mis-
taking of the workmen, hut since having learned
that the said discourse was written by Captain
Smith, &c.," — settles the question of authorship.

In 1612, Smith published A Map of Vir-
ginia,— With a description of the country, the
commodities, people, government and religion.
Written by Captain Smith, sometime Governor
of the country. It was accompanied by aa
account of "the proceedings of those colonies
since their first departure from England, with the
discourses, orations and relations of the salvages,
and the accidents that befel them in all their jour-
neys and discoveries, &c, by W. S."

This was followed by A Description of New
England : or the Observations and Discoveries of
Captain John Smith (Admirall of that Country),
in the North of America, in the year of our Lord
1614, with the successe of size ships that went the
next year, 1615; and the accidents befell him
among the French men ofwarre : with the proofe
of the present benefit this countrey affords:
whither this present yeare, 1616, eight voluntary
ships are gone to make further trials. At Lon-
don. Printed, &c. : 1616. It is reprinted in the
sixth volume of the third series of the Massachu-
setts Historical Society's Collections, and in the
second volume of Col. Force's reprints of rare
tracts relating to America, where it is accompa-
nied by its successor: New England's Trials.
Declaring the successe of 80 ships employed
thither within these eight years ; and the benefit
of that country by Sea and Land. With the
present estate of that happie plantation, begun
but by 60 weake men in the yeare 1620. And
how to build a Fleete of good Shippes to make a
little Navie Roy all. Written by Captain John
Smith, sometime Governour of Virginia, and
Admirall of New England. The second edition.
London: 1622. These two tracts form seventy
octavo pages in Mr. Force's reprint. The first
edition of New England's Trials, Declaring the
success of 26 Ships, &c, appeared in 1620.

In 1626, the Captain issued his largest work,
a folio, entitled The General History of Vir-
ginia, New England, and the Summer Jsles, with
the names of the adventurers, planters and gover-

6

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

nors, from their first beginning An. 1584, to this
present 1626. With the proceedings of those seve-
ral colonies, and the accidents that befell them in
all their journies and discoveries. Also the map,
and descriptions of all those country es, their com-
modities, people, government, customs, and religion
yet known. It was prepared at the request of the
company in London, and contains several portraits
and maps. A portion only, including the second
and sixth books, is from the pen of Smith, and in
these he has drawn largely on his previous publica-
tions; the remaining four are made up from the
relations of others. The whole, with the con-
tinuation to the year 1629, subsequently published
by Smith, was reprinted at Richmond, Va., in
1819, in two vols. 8vo.

We extract from this work the account of the
famous action of Pocahontas on account of its his-
torical value. The chapter from which it is taken
(the second of the third book), is stated to be
" written by Thomas Stjjflley the first Cape Mer-
chant in Virginia, Robert Fenton, Edward Har-
rington, and I. S.," so that it is probably from the
pen of Smith.

At last they brought him to Meronoco moco,
where was Powhatan their emperor. Here more
than two hundred of those grim courtiers stood
wondering at him as he had been a monster: till
Powhatan and his train had put themselves in their
greatest braveries. Before a fire, upon a seat like a
bedstead, he sat covered with a great robe, made of
Rarovxun skins, and all the tails hanging by. On
either hand did sit a young wench of 16 or 18 years,
and along on each side of the house, two rows of
men, and behind them as many women, with all
their heads and shoulders painted led; many of
their heads bedecked with the white down of birds;
but every one with something: and a great chain of
white beads about their necks. At his entrance be-
fore the king, all the people gave a great shout.
The queen of Appamatuck was appointed to bring
him water to wash his hands, and another brought
him a bunch of feathers, instead of a towel to dry
them : having feasted him after their best barbarous
manner they could, a long consultation was held, but
the conclusion was, two great stones were brought
before Powhatan ; then as many as could laid hand
on him, dragged him to them, and thereon laid his
head, and being ready with their clubs to beat out
his brains, Pocahontas the King's dearest daughter,
when no entreaty could prevail, got his head in her
arms, and laid her own upon his to save him from
death: whereat the emperor was contented he should
live to make him hatchets, and her bells, beads, and
copper : for they thought him as well of all occupa-
tionsas themselves. Forthe King himself will make
his own robes, shoes, bows, arrows, pots ; plant, hunt,
or do anything so well as the rest.

They say he bore a pleasant show,
But sure his heart was sad,
For who can pleasant be, and rest,
That lives in fear and dread:
And having life suspected, doth
It still suspected lead.

In the same year he published a work for the
general benefit of mariners and landsmen entitled
An Accidence, or the Pathway to Experience,
necessary for all young Seamen; which was fol-
lowed in 1627, by A Sea Grammar, with the
plalne Exposition of Smith's Accidence for young
Seamen, enlarged. In his own words it "found

good entertainment abroad." A second edition
appeared in 1653, and a third in 1692.*

In 1630, appeared theo True Travels, Adven-
tures, and Observations of Capt. John Smith in
Europe, Asia, Africa and America, from A.D.
1593 to 1629. Together with a continuation of
his general history of Virginia, &c. Folio. Lon-
don: 1680. It was reprinted with his history at
Richmond. It also forms part of Churchill's Col-
lection of Voyages.

In the dedication to the volume he states that
Sir Robert Cotton, " that most learned treasurer of
antiquity, having by perusal of my general his-
tory, and others, found that I had likewise under-
gone other as hard hazards in the other parts of
the world, requested me to fix the whole course
of my passages in a book by itself, whose noble
desire I could not but in part satisfy: the rather
because they have acted my fatal tragedies upon
the stage, and racked my relations at their plea-
sure.1^

His last work appeared in 1631, and is entitled,
Advertisements for the unexperienced Planters
of New England, or anywhere ; or, the Pathway
to experie)ice to erect a plantation. With the
yearely proceedings of the country in Fishing and
Planting, since the year 1614 to the year 1630,
and their present estate. Also how to prevent the
greatest inconveniences, by their proceedings in
Virginia, and other Plantations, by approved
examples. With the Countries Arms, a descrip-
tion of the Coast, Harbours, Habitations, Land-
marks, Latitude and Longitude : with the Map,
allowed by our Royall King Charles — by Captain
John Smith. London: Printed, etc. 1631. It
occupies fifty-three pages in the reprint in the
Mass. Hist. Coll. 3d Series, vol. 3, and contains on
the back of the address to the reader, the poem,
" The Sea Marke."

In a passage in this tract (p. 36), he refers to
a History of the Sea on which he was engaged,
but his death in the same year put an end to this,

* George S. Hillard's Life of Captain Smith, in Sparks' s Ame-
rican Biography, 1st Series, ii. 4i 5.

t A similar complaint of " the licentious vaine of stage
poets" is made in the " Epistle Dedicatorie" to a tract, Tlif- New
Life of Virginia, published in 1612. The American Planta-
tions soon became an occasional topic of allusion with Middle-
ton, Dekker, and others. Robert Taylor's play of the " Hog
hath lost his Pearl,* in 1612, has a mention of the indifferent
progress of "the plantation in Virginia.'1 Shakespeare was
too early for the subject. The word America is mentioned
only once in his plays, and that not very complimeiitarily, in
Dromio's comic description of the kitchen maid. The "still
vexed Bermoothes'' was the nearest approach he made to the
"Western continent. Had Sir Philip Sidney made the voyago
to America which he contemplated, his pen would doubtless
have given a tinge of poetry to its woods and Indians. Ra-
leigh s name is connected with the Virginia voyages, but he
never landed within the present limits of the "United States.
Lord Bacon had the "Plantations'" in view, in his Essay bear-
ing that name, and in another "of Prophecies" calls attention
to the verses of Seneca —

Venient annis

Secnla seris, <;uibus Ocean us

Vineula reruin laxet, et ingens

Patent tellus, Tiphysque novos

Detegat orbes ; nee sit terris

Ultima Thule :

as "a prophecie of the Discovery of America."

Milton's fine imagery connected with the fall of otir first
parents, " their guilt and dreaded shame," will be called to
mind : —

O how unlike
To that first naked glory ! Such of late
Columbus found the Amerieau, so girt
With feather'd cincture ; naked else and wild
Among the trees on isles and woody shores.

HARRIOT ; WHITAKEE ; STRACHEY.

and probably other projects of his ever active
mind.

Captain Smith wrote with a view to furnish
information rather than to gain the reputation of
an author or scholar. He confines himself to the
subject matter in hand, seldom digressing into
comment or reflection. His descriptions are ani-
mated, and his style clear and simple. The fol-
lowing verses, the only ones, with the exception
of a few scattered lines in his History of Virginia,
which can be attributed to his pen, show that he
has some claim to the title of a poet. They
possess a rude, simple melody, not inharmonious
with their subject.

THE SEA MARK.

Aloof, aloof, and come no near,

The dangers do appear

Which, if my ruin had not been,

You had not seen :

I only lie upon this shelf

To be a mark to all

Which on the same may fall.
That none may perish but myself

If in our outward you be bound

Do not forget to sound ;

Neglect of that was caused of this

To steer amiss.

The seas were calm, the wind was fair,

That made me so secure,

That now I must endure
All weathers, be they foul or fair.

The winter's cold, the summer's heat

Alternatively beat

Upon my bruised sides, that rue.

Because too true,

That no relief can ever come;

But why should I despair

Being promise 1 so fair.
That there shall be a day of Doom.

The commendatory verses which, following the
publishing fashion of the day, accompany several
of Smith's productions, show that he was held in
high favor by some of the leading literary men
of his day, the names of Wither and Brathwayte,
two poets whose productions are still read with
pleasure, being found among those of the contri-
butors. The same feelings of respect excited
some of Smith's followers to sing the praises of
their great leader. His " true friend and soldier,
Ed. Robinson" thus addresses " his worthy Cap-
taine, the author " —

Thou that to passe the world's foure parts dost

deeme
No more, than t'were tu goe to bed, or drinke ;

and Thos. Carlton, who signs himself " your true
friend, sometimes your soldier," gives this honora-
ble testimony :

I never knew a Warryer yet, but thee

From wine, tobacco, debts, dice, oaths, so free.*

A few Virginia historical publications contem-
porary with Smith, written by scholars resident in
or identified with the country, may be here men-
tioned :

Thomas Harriot, the author of " A Brief and
true Report of the new found land of Virginia;"

•» The Life of Captain John Smith has been written by Mr.
bimms, with a genial appreciation of his hero.

and better known as an algebraist, was born at Ox-
ford in 1560, where he was educated, being gra-
duated in 1579. He was recommended in conse-
quence of his mathematical acquirements to Sir
Walter Raleigh as a teacher in that science. He
received him into his family and in 1585 sent him
with the company under Sir Richard Granville
to Virginia, where he remained a twelvemonth.
In 1588 he obtained through the introduction of
Raleigh a pension from Henry Percy, Earl of
Northumberland, of £120 per annum. He passed
many years in Sion College, where he died in
1621. He was the inventor of the improved
method of algebraic calculation adopted by
Descartes six years after, who passed off the
discovery as his own. Harriot's claim was esta-
blished by Dr. Wallis in his History of Algebra.
His tract, A brief and true account of the new
found land of Virginia, &c, was published in
1590. A Latin edition appeared in the collection
of De Bry in the same year, and afterwards in
English in Hakluyt.

Alexander Wiiitaker, a son of the Rev. Dr.
William Whitaker, Master of St. John's College,
Cambridge, came to Virginia while a young man,
and was one of the settlers of the town of Hen-
rico on James river, in 1611. During the same
year a church was built and the foundations of
another of brick laid, while the minister " im-
paled a fine parsonage, with a hundred acres of
land, calling it Rock Hall." His letters, in which
he expresses his surprise that more of the English
clergy do not engage in missionary labors similar to
his own, testify to his earnestness in the cause.*
He baptized Pocahontas, and also married her to
Mr. Rolfe.

In 1613 he published a work entitled Good
Newes from Virginia, Sent to the council and
company of Virginia resident in England. The
"Epistle Dedieatorie" by W. Crashawe, contains
this well merited eulogium of the author.

I hereby let all men know that a scholar, a gra-
duate, a preacher, well born and friended in England;
not in debt nor disgrace, but competently provided
for, and liked and beloved where he lived ; not in
want, but (for a scholar, and as these days be) rich
in possession, and more in possibility ; of himself,
without any persuasion (but God's and his own
heart) did voluntarily leave his warm nest ; and to
the wonder of his kindred and amazement of those
who knew him, undertook this hard, but, in my
judgment, heroical resolution to go to Virginia, and
help to bear the name of God unto the gentiles.

A picturesque account of the country was writ-
ten by William Strachet, the first Secretary of
the Colony, in his two books of Historie of Tra-
vaile into Virginia Britannia. It is dedicated
to Lord Bacon, and bears date at least as early as
1G18.T Strachey was three years in the Colony, — ^
1610-12. The motto from the Psalms shows his
religious disposition and prescience, " This shall
be written for the generation to come: and the
people which shall be created shall praise the
Lord," as the narrative itself does his careful

* History of the P. E. Church in VirMnia, by the Kev. F.
L. Hawks.

t It has been recently edited from the original MS. in the
British Museum, by R. II. Major, and published among the
works of the Hakluyt Society.

8

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

observation of " the cosmographie and commodi-
ties of the country, together with the manners
and customes of the people."

Strachey was one of the party of officers ship-
wrecked on the Bermudas in 1609. His descrip-
tion of the storm published in Purchas, was main-
tained by Malone to be the foundation of Shake-
speare's Tempest.*

HARVARD COLLEGE.

On the twenty-eighth day of October, 1636, eight
years after the first landing of the Massachusetts
Bay colonists, under John Endicot, the General
Court at Boston voted four hundred pounds to-
wards a school or college, and the following year
appointed its location at Newtown, soon changed
to Cambridge (in gratitude to the University of
England), under the direction of the leading men
of the colony. In 1638, the project was deter-
mined by the bequest of John Harvard, an English
clergyman of education, who had arrived in the
country but the year before, who left to the institu-
tion a sum of money, at least equal to and probably
two-fold the amount of the original appropriation,
and a valuable library of three hundred and twenty
volumes, including not only the heavy tomes of
theology in vogue in that age, but important
works of classical and the then recent English
literature, among which Bacon's clear-toned style
and the amenities of Horace tempered the rigors
of Scotus and Aquinas. Contributions flowed in.
The magistrates subscribed liberally ; and a noble
proof of the temper of the times is witnessed in
the number of small gifts and legacies, of pieces
of family plate, and in one instance of the bequest
of a number of sheep. With such precious stones
were the foundations of Harvard laid. The time,
place, and manner need no eulogy. They speak
for themselves.

During its first two years it existed in a kind
of embryo as the school of Nathaniel Eaton,
who bears an ill character in history for his
bad temper and short commons. In 1640 the
Rev. Henry Dunster, on his arrival from Eng-
land, was constituted the first President. He
served the college till 1654, when, having ac-
quired and preached doctrines in opposition
to infant baptism, he was compelled to resign
his office. He had borne manfully with the
early difficulties of the position, and received
little in the way of gratitude. Through his ex-
cellent oriental scholarship, he had been intrusted
with the improvement of the literal version of
the Psalms, known as the Bay Psalm Book. The
first printing-press in the colony was set up at
Harvard, in the President's house, in 1639. The
first publication was the Freeman's Oath, then an
almanack, followed by the Bay Psalm Book.
Dunster was succeeded by Charles Chauncy, who
held the office till his death, which was in 1672.
He was a man of learning, having been Professor
of Hebrew and Greek in Trinity College, Cam-
bridge, and of general worth, though of wavering
doctrinal consistency. He had his share in Eng-
land of Laud's ecclesiastical interferences, and
had recanted his views in opposition to kneel-
ing at the communion — an act of submission

* Major's Introduction to Virginia Britannia, xj.

which he always regretted. He was driven to
New England, whence he was about returning
home to his Puritan friends, who had come into
power, when he was arrested by the college
appointment. He devoted himself to the affairs
of the college, and as he suffered the penury of
the position, cast his eye to the " allowed diet" and
settled stipend of similar situations in England.
His petitions to the "honored governor" show that,
notwithstanding the early gifts, the institution
was ill provided for. Chauncy was threescore
when he was made President; and several inte-
resting anecdotes are preserved of his scholar's
old age. He was an early riser — up at four
o'clock in winter and summer, preached plain
sermons to the students and townspeople, was
laborious in duty, manfully holding that the
student, like the commander, should fall at his
post. He has reputation as a divine and scholar.
He published a sermon on the Advantages of
Schools, and a Faithful Ministry, in which he
inveighed against the practice of wearing long
hair — the Election Sermon of 1656, a volume of
twenty-six sermons, on Justification, and the
" Antisynodalia," written against the proceed-
ings of the Synod held in Boston in 1662.

His manuscripts passed into the hands of
his step-daughter, a widow, who, marrying a
Northampton deacon — a pie-man — these devout
writings were taken to line his pastry — a fate
which the poet Herrick not long before had
deprecated in hurrying effusions of a very dif-
ferent character into print, in his " Lines to his
Book:"—

Lest rapt from hence, I see thee lie
Torn for the use of pasterie.

The fate of Warburton's collection of old plays,
by which English literature has lost so much, it
will be recollected, was similar. Dryden, in his
MacFlecknoe, celebrates the " martyrs of pies."

Chauncy left six sons, who all graduated at
Harvard, and became preachers. Dr. Chauncy
of Boston, in the days of the Revolution, was one
of his descendants.*

The next President was himself a graduate of
Harvard, of the class of 1650 — Leonard Hoar.
He had reversed the usual process of the clergy
of the country — having gone to England and
been settled as a preacher in Sussex. The col-
lege was thinly attended, and badly supported at
the time of his inauguration. He had fallen
upon evil days. With little profit and much
anxiety, discipline was badly supported, and he
retired from the management in less than three
years, in 1675.

The first collection of books was greatly en-
larged by the bequest of the library of Theophilus
Gale, who died in 1677, "a philologist, a philo-
sopher, and a theologian.''!

Urian Oakes, of English birth, though a gra-
duate of the college, was then President pro tem-
pore for several years, accepting the full appoint-
ment in 1680, which he held till 1681. He died
suddenly in office, leaving as memorials of his
literature several sermons, including an Election

* Mass. Hist. Soc. Coll., First Scries, x. t79. Allen's Bio-
graphical Dictionary. Peirce's History of Harvard, 32.
t Quiucy's Harvard, i. 1S5.

HARVARD COLLEGE.

9

and an Artillery sermon, " The Unconquerable, All-
conquering, and more than Conquering Christian
Soldier ;" an Eulogy in Latin, and an Elegy in
English verse on the Rev. Thomas Shepard, of
Charlestowu. This was printed in 1677. The
verse somewhat halts :

The muses and the graces too conspired
To set forth this rare piece to be admired.

He breathed love and pursued peace in his day,
As if his soul were made of harmony.

Scarce ever more of goodness crowded lay
In such apiece of frail mortality.

Sure Father Wilson's genuine son was he,
New England's Paul has such a Timothy.*
********

My dearest, inmost, bosom friend is gone !

Gone is my sweet companion, soul's delight I
Now in a huddling crowd, I'm all alone,

And almost could bid all the world good-night.
Blest be my rock ! God lives : oh I let him be
As he is all, so all in all to me.

In his youth Oakes published at Cambridge
a set of astronomical calculations, with the motto,
in allusion to his size — ■

Parvum parva decent, sed inest sua gratia parvis.

Cotton Mather puns incorrigibly upon his name,
and pronounces the students " a rendezvous of
happy Druids" under his administration.

Mr. Oakes being now, in the quaint language
of the same ingenious gentleman, transplanted
into the better world, he was succeeded by John
Rogers, a graduate of the College of 1649.
He was but a short time President — hardly a
year, when he was cut off suddenly, the day
after commencement, July 2, 1684. Mather
celebrates the sweetness of his temper, and " his
real piety set off with the accomplishments
of a gentleman, as a gem set in gold." He was
one of the writers of complimentary verses on
the poems of Anne Bradstreet, in recording the
emotions inspired by which, he proves his charac-
ter for courtesy and refinement.

To Venus' shrine no altars raised are,

Nor venom'd shafts from painted quivers fly :

Nor wanton doves of Aphrodite's car,

Or fluttering there, nor here forlornly lie:

Lorn paramours, nor chatting birds tell news,

How sage Apollo Daphne hot pursues

Or stately Jove himself is wont to haunt the stews.

Nor barking Satyrs breathe, nor dreary clouds
Exhaled from Styx, their dismal drops distil
Within these fairy, flow'ry fields, nor shrouds
The screeching night raven, with his shady quill.
But lyrick strings here Orpheus nimbly hits,
Arion on his sadled dolphin sits,
Chanting as every humour, age and season fits.

Here silver swans, with nightingales set spells,
Which sweetly charm the traveller, and raise
Earth's earthed monarchs, from their hidden cells,
And to appearance summons lapsed dayes;
Their heav'nly air becalms the swelling frayes,

* John Wilson was the first pastor of the Church in Boston,
■whose virtues and talents are recorded by Mather in the third
book of the Magnalia. His cleverness at aiwgrammttlizing
is there noted by the pen of an admirer. Mather mentions the
witty compliment of Nathaniel Ward "that the anagram of
John Wilson was, I pray come in : you are heartily wel-
come.'1

And fury fell of elements allayes,

By paying every one due tribute to his praise.

This seem'd the seite of all those verdant vales,

And purled springs, whereat the Nymphs do play:

With lofty hills, where Poets rear their tales,

To heavenly vaults, which heav'nly sound repay

By echo's sweet rebound : here ladye's kiss,

Circling nor songs, nor dance's circle miss ;

But whilst those Syrens sung, I sunk in sea of bliss.

A mighty name of the old New England dis-
pensation follows in the college annals, Increase
Mather, who held the presidency from 1685 to
1701. He had previously supplied the vacancy
for a short time on the death of Oakes. He
attended to his college duties without vacating
his parish or his residence at Boston. The char-
ter troubles intervened, and Mather was sent to
England to maintain the rights of the colonists
with James II. and William and Mary. While
there, he made the acquaintance of Thomas
HollU, who subsequently became the distinguished
benefactor of Harvard. He secured from the
crown, under the new charter, the possession, to
the college, of the grants which it had received.
The institution, on his return, flourished under
his rule, and received some handsome endow-
ments. In 1699, Lieutenant-Governor William
Stoughton erected the hall bearing his name,
which lasted till 1780, and was succeeded by a
new building, with the same designation, in
1805. Mather retired in 1701, with the broad
hint of an order from the General Court,
that the presidents of the college should reside
at Cambridge. It is considered by President
Quincy, in his History of the University, that the
influence of the Mathers — Cotton was connected
with the college during the absence of his father,
though he never became its head — was unfriendly
to its prosperity, in seeking to establish a sec-
tarian character. At the outset it was, in a
measure, independent. The charters of the col-
lege are silent o| points of religious faith. Its
seal bore simply the motto " Veritas," written
in three divisions on as many open books on
the shield. This inscription was soon changed to
" In Christi Gloriam," and, probably in the time
of Mather, to " Christo et Ecclesiaa."* It was a

Original Draft for a College Seal. 1648.

* Quincy's History, i. 49. In reference to tho disposition
of the motto, "Veritas," partly inscribed on the inside and
partly on the outside of two open volumes, Mr. Robert C.
Winthrop gave this pleasant explanation, in a toast at the cele-
bration in 1836: "The Founders of our University — Theyhavo
taught us that no one human book contains the whole truth of
any subject; and that, in order to fret at the real end of any
matter, we must be careful to look at both sides."

10

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Mather act to inveigle the whole board of the col-
lege into a quasi sanction of the witchcraft delusion,
in the circular inviting information touching " the
existence and agency of the invisible world."*
Driven from the old political assumptions by the
new charter, the priestly party sought the con-
trol of the college, and a struggle ensued between
rival theological interests. Increase Mather bound
the government of the institution in a close cor-
poration of his own selection, under a new
charter from the General Court, which was,
however, negatived in England. Before this
veto arrived, it had conferred the first degree in
the college, of Doctor in Divinity, upon President
Mather in 1692.

The Rev. Samuel Willard was for more than
six years, from 1701 to 1707, vice-president of the
college, an apparent compromise in the difficulties
of the times. He was a graduate of Harvard, had
been settled as a minister at Groton, and driven
to seek refuge in Boston from the devastations
of King Philip's war. He was a good divine of
his day, and a useful head of the college. A story
is told of his tact, not without humor. His son-
in-law, the Rev. Samuel Neal, preached a sermon
for him at his church which was much cavilled at
as a wretched affair ; when he was requested by
the congregation not to admit any more from the
same source. He borrowed the sermon, preached
it himself, with the advantages of his capital de-
livery, and the same persons were so delighted
with it that they requested a copy for publica-
tion, f He was the author of a number of publi-
cations, chiefly sermons, and a posthumous work,
in 1726, entitled a "Body of Divinity," which is
spoken of as the first folio of the kind published
in the country. He wrote on "Witchcraft, and
has the credit of having resisted the popular de-
lusion on that subject. He was twice married,
and had twenty children.! He died in office, and
was succeeded by John Leverett, who held the
post till 1724. The latter has the reputation of a
practical man, faithful to his office, and a liberal-
minded Christian. He was a grandson of Gover-
nor John Leverett, of Massachusetts.

The long array of acts of liberality to the col-
lege by the Hollis family dates from this time.
The great benefactor of the name was Thomas
Hollis, a London merchant, born in 1659, who
died in 1731. His attention was early attracted
to Harvard, by being appointed trustee to his un-
cle's will, charged with a bequest to the college.
In 1719 he made a first shipment of goods to
Boston, the proceeds of which were paid over,
and the first interest appropriated to the support
of a son of Cotton Mather, then a student. A
second considerable donation followed. His direc-
tions for the employment of the fund in 1721,
constituted the Hollis Professorship of Divinity,
to which, in 1727, he added a Professorship of
Mathematics and Natural Philosophy. At this
time his pecuniary donations had brought to the
college four thousand nine hundred pounds Mas-
sachusetts currency. He gave and collected books
for the library with valuable counsel, and for-

* Quincy's History of Harvard University, t 62.

t Mass. Hist. Soc. Coll., First Series, viii. 1S2, quoted by
Peirce.

X Peirce's Hist of Harvard, p. 74; Eliot's Biog. Diet ; Allen's
Biog. Diet.

warded, from a friend, a set of Hebrew and Greek
types for printing.

This liberality was the more praiseworthy since
Hollis was a Baptist, a sect in no great favor in
New England ; but he was a man of liberal mind,
and selected Harvard for the object of his muni-
ficent gifts, as the most independent college of the
times.* In founding his Divinity Professorship
he imposed no test, but required only that Bap-
tists should not be excluded from its privileges.
His brothers, John and Nathaniel, were also do-
nors to the college. Thomas Hollis, a son of the
last mentioned, became the heir of his uncle, the
first benefactor, and liberally continued his bounty.
He conferred money, books, and philosophical ap-
paratus. He survived his uncle but a few years,
and left a son, the third Thomas Hollis. This
was the famous antiquary and virtuoso, with a
collector's zeal for the memory of Milton and Al-
gernon Sidney. A rare memorial of his tastes is
left in the two illustrated quartos of Memoirs, by
Thomas Brand Hollis (who also gave books and a
bequest), published in 1780, six years after his
death. He sent some of its most valuable literary
treasures to the Harvard library, books on reli-
gious and political liberty, all of solid worth, and
sometimes bound in a costly manner, as became
his tastes. It was his humor to employ various
gilt emblems or devices to indicate the nature of
the contents. Thus he put an owl on the back
of one volume, to indicate that it was replete with
wisdom, while he indicated the folly of another
by the owl reversed. The goddess of liberty
figured frequently. Many of the books contained
citations from Milton, of whom he was an enthu-
siastic admirer, and occasional memoranda exhi-
biting the zeal of a bibliographer.! He collected
complete series of pamphlets on controversies, and
presented them bound. He also gave money
freely in addition. His donations in his lifetime

|If;(7i,/,l{g^ !!]£

Thomas Hollis.

and by will amounted to nearly two thousand

* Qnincy's Hist, of Harvard, i. 233.

t Several notices of Hollis's books, with copies of his annota-
tions, may be seen in the Monthly Anthology for 18C8. In one
of his learned volumes he notes, on a loose slip of paper, which
has retained its place for nearly ninety years, UT. H. has been
particularly industrious in collecting Grammars and Lexicons
of the Oriental Root Languages, to send to Harvard College, in
hopes of forming by that means, assisted by the energy of the
leaders, always beneficent, a few peime scholars, honors to their
country, and lights to mankind."

HARVARD COLLEGE.

11

pounds sterling. At this day, eighty years after
his bequest of five hundred pounds to the library,
half of the permanent income for the purchase of
books is derived from that source. A full-length
portrait of him, richly painted by Copley, at the
instance of the corporation, hangs in the Gallery.
When it was requested of him, he replied, in
allusion to the works of his favorite English refor-
mers, which he had sent, " the effigies which you
desire may be seen at this time in your library,
feature by feature." We have taken our en-
graving from a medallion head in the Hollis
Memoirs.

He was the friend not only of English but of
American liberty, being instrumental in repub-
lishing the early political essays of Mayhew, Otis,
and John Adams.

Leverett was followed in the college presidency
by Benjamin Wadsworth, from 1725 to 1737, a
moderate, useful man. He published a number
of sermons and religious essays. Edward Holyoke
succeeded, and was president for nearly thirty-
two years, till 1769. Harvard prospered during
his time, though the destruction of the old Har-
vard Hall by lire, in 1764, was a serious disaster,
especially as it involved the loss of the library ;
but the sympathy excited new acts of friendship.
On a winter's night in January some six thousand
volumes were burnt in this edifice, including the
Oriental library bequeathed by Dr. Lightfoot,
and the Greek and Roman classics presented by
Berkeley. *

M,^if,T,M ^:

. ."^".l^i." il„ I... ,-■ I. . ;..VT"- "iJl'IUl?TC

Harvard Hall, built 16S2, destroyed 1TC4.

Among other additions to the college useful-
ness, the first endowment of special annual lec-
tures was made at this period by the Hon. Paul
Dudley, of great reputation on the Bench, who,
in 1751, founded, by bequest, the course bearing
his name. Four are delivered in succession, one
each year, on Natural and Revealed Religion, the
Church of Rome, and the Validity of Presbyterian
Ordination. The first of these was delivered by
President Holyoke, who had a rare disinclination
among the New England clergy to appear in print,
and his discourse was not published. He lived
in the discharge of his office to the age of eighty,

in a vigorous old age. He was amiable, generous,
and unostentatious.*

PIETAS ET QRATULATIO.

During the Presidency of Holyoke the College
gained distinguished honor by the publication, in
1761, of the Pietas et Gratulatio.i This was an
elegiac and complimentary volume, printed with
much elegance in quarto, celebrating the death
of George II. in the previous year, and the glo-
rious accession of George III., not forgetting
Epithalamia on the nuptials with the Princess
Charlotte. A proposal was set up in the collpge
chapel inviting competition on these themes from
undergraduates, or those who had taken a degree
within seven years, for six guinea prizes to be
given for the best Latin oration, Latin poem in
hexameters, Latin elegy in hexameters and pen-
tameters, Latin ode, English poem in long verse,
and English ode.J: These conditions were not
all preserved in the preparation of the volume.
Master Lovell, in its second ode, ascribes the first
idea to Governor Bernard, who had then just
entered on his office, which is confirmed by a reso-
lution of the college corporation at the beginning
of the next year, providing for a presentation copy
to his new Majesty, who does not appear to have
made any special acknowledgment of it. Presi-
dent Holyoke sent a copy to Thomas Hollis the
antiquarian. " An attempt," he says, in his letter,
"of several young gentlemen here with us, and
educated in this college, to show their pious
sorrow on account of the death of our late glo-
rious king, their attachment to his royal house,
the joy they have in the accession of his present
majesty to the British throne, and in the prospect
they have of the happiness of Britain from the
Royal Progeny which they hope for from his alli-
ance with the illustrious house of Mechlenburg."§
The volume thus originated may compare, both
in taste and scholarship, with similar effusions of
the old world. Though rather a trial of skill than
an appeal of sober truthfulness, the necessary pa-
negyric is tempered by the good advice to the new
King in the prefatory prose address, ascribed to
Hutchinson or Bernard, which, if his Majesty had
followed in its spirit, separation from the colonies
might have been longer delayed. The inevitable
condition of such a work as the Pietas is eulogy ;

* Edward Augustus Holyoke, the centenarian and celebrat-
ed physician, of Salem, Mass., was the son of President Holy-
oke, by his second marriage. He was born August 13, 1728,
and became a graduate of Harvard of 1746. For nearly eighty
years he was a practitioner at Salem, dying there in 1S29. Ho
■was a man of character and probity in ins profession, and a
remarkable example of the retention of the powers of life.
At the age of eighty his desire for knowledge was active as
ever, lie kept up his familiarity with the classics, and
the prestige of his parentage and college life, in liberal studies
and acquaintance with curious things, in and out of his profes-
sion. He was well versed in scientific studies, and his case
may be added to the long list of natural philosophers who havo
reached extreme age. He retained his faculties to the last.
It had always been his habit to record his observations, and
various voluminous diaries from his pen are in existence.
After he completed his hundredth year, it is stated that "ho
commenced a manuscript in which he proposed to minute
down some of the changes in the manners, dress, dwellings,
and employments of the inhabitants of Salem.11 — Williams's Am.
Med. Biog ; Knapp's Am. Biog.

t Pietas et Gratulatio Collegli Cantabrigiensis apud Novan-
glos. Bostoni-Massachusettensium. TypisJ. Green & J. Eus-
sell. 1761. 4to. pp. 106.

$ From a manuscript copy of the " Proposal," in the copy of
the PietOA H Gratulatio in the library of Harvard College.

§ September 25, 1762, Hollis's Memoirs, 4 to 101.

12

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

so the departing guest is sped and the coming
welcomed, in the most rapturous figments of
poetry. George II. is elevated to his apotheosis
in the skies, in the long echoing wave of the exult-
ing hexameter, while the ebbing flood of feeling
at so mournful an exaltation is couched in the
6ubdued expression of the sinking pentameter.*
All nature is called upon to mourn and weep, and
again to rejoice ; all hearts to bleed, and again to
live, as one royal monarch ascends the skies and
another the throne. As this production really
possesses considerable merit, as it brings together
the names of several writers worthy of comme-
moration, and as the work is altogether unique in
the history of American literature, it may be well
to notice its separate articles with such testimony
as we can bring together on the question of their
authorship.

By the kindness of Mr. Ticknor, the historian
of Spanish Literature, we have before us his copy
of the Pietas which once belonged to Professor
Winthrop, with a manuscript letter from the anti-
quarian Thaddeus Mason Harris, who was libra-
rian at Harvard from 1791 to 1793, which fur-
nishes authorities named in Professor Sewnll's copy
presented to the writer ; also a manuscript list of
authors on the authority of Dr. Eliot. In the
Monthly Anthology for June, 1809, we have a
carefully prepared list, in an article written by
A. H. Everett, and in the No. for July some sug-
gestions for its emendation, by the Rev. Dr. Samuel
Deane, of Portland, the only surviving contributor,
and from another person, not known to us, who
dates his note, July 13, 1809.

There are thirty-one papers in all, exclusive of
the introductory address to the King. The first
is the Arlhortatio Prasidis, a polished Latin ode,
the ostensible composition of President Holyoke,
who was then about seventy. It does credit to
his taste and scholarship^ It closes with a refer-
ence to the hopes of the future American song.

Sic forsan et vos vestraque munera
Blando benignus lumine viderit,
Miratus ignotas camcenas

Sole sub Hesperio calentes.

The second and twenty-fifth belong to John Lo-
vell, to whom have also been ascribed by Deane
the twenty-sixth and seventh, with the still further
authority of Lovell's name at the end of these
articles, in Winthrop's own copy.

Lovell was a graduate of Harvard, and was
master of the Boston Latin school for forty years
from 1734 to 1775 (succeeding to the afterwards
famous Jeremiah Gridley, a great lawyer in his
prime, and an elegant writer in his newspaper,
the Rehearsal^ in his younger days, in 1731),
when he became a loyalist refugee, and went with
the British troops to Halifax, where he soon after

* Coleridge has most happily, in his translation of Schiller's
couplet, "described and exemplified1' the Ovidian Elegiac
metre.

In the hexameter rises the fountain's silvery columu ;
In the pentameter aye falling in melody back.

t The writer in the Monthly Anthology for June, 1809, sug-
gests that he was assisted in it by Master Lovell. It has also
been ascribed to Bernard.

% The Rehearsal was a weekly paper in Boston, on a half
sheet folio, published from 1731-85, when it was merged in the
Boston Evening Post. In Gridley's hands it was written in
rather an ornamental style. Thomas's Hist of Print, ii. 22S.
Mass. Hist. Soe. Coll., First Series, v. 218.

died, in 1778. Though arigid teacher, Lovell is said
to have been an agreeable companion ; and though
a tory, he educated many of the whig leaders.
He delivered the first published address in Faneuil
Hall, a funeral oration on its founder in 1742. In
the close of this he uttered the memorable sen-
tence, " May this hall be ever sacred to the inte-
rests of truth, of justice, of loyalty, of honor, of
liberty. May no private views nor party broils
ever enter these walls."

Lovell's Latin ode (n.) to Governor Bernard is
forcible and elegant, and its concluding simile of
the torn branch in Virgil's descent to Hades, as
applied to the royal succession, happy.

Sic sacra scevae dona Proserpina?
Dimittit arbor, alter et emicat
Ramus refuigens, ac avito

Silva iterum renovatur auro.

His second composition (xxv.) is an Epithala-
mium in English heroics, descriptive of the embar-
cation of Charlotte on the Elbe. Rocks, sands,
winds, and Neptune are invoked to give safe con-
duct to the marriage party ; and Neptune responds
in the most cordial manner.

xxvi. and xxvn. are, the one in Latin, the other
in English, commemorations of the astronomical
incident of the year, the transit of Venus, which
had just been observed by Professor Winthrop, of
the College at St. John's.

"While Halley views the heavens with curious eyes,
And notes the changes in the stormy skies,—
"What constellations 'bode descending rains,
Swell the proud streams, and fertilize the plains ;
"What call the zephyrs forth, with favouring breeze,
To waft Britannia's fleets o'er subject seas;
In different orbits how the planets run,
Reflecting rays they borrow from the sun: —
Sudden a different prospect charms his sight, —
Venus encircled in the source of light!
Wronders to come his ravished thoughts unfold,
And thus the Heaven-instructed bard foretold :
What glorious scenes, to ages past unknown,
Shall in one summer's rolling months be shown.
Auspicious omens yon bright regions wear ;
Events responsive in the earth appear.
A golden Phoebus decks the rising morn, —
Such, glorious George ! thy youthful brows adorn ;
Kor sparkles Venus on the ethereal plain,
Brighter than Charlotte 'midst the virgin train.
The illustrious pair conjoined in nuptial ties,
Britannia shines a rival to the skies !

Seven of the compositions are given to Stephen
Sewall, whom Han-is has called "the most
accomplished classical scholar of his day which
our college or country could boast."* These
papers are the in., in Latin hexameters ; v., an
English ode ; xn., a Latin elegiac ; xiv., an
elegant Latin sapphic ode, exulting over the pros
pects of the royal grandson, and prematurely
rejoicing in the peaceful reign :

Ipse sacratum tibi Jane ! templum
Clauserit ; ramos olese virentis
Marte jactatis populis daturus

Corde benigno.

* Manuscript letter to Prof. George Ticknor, Dorchester,
April, 1S28.

HARVARD COLLEGE.

13

Hinc quies orbi ; studiis juvamen ;
Gaudium musis ; thalami puellis ;
Omnibus passim hinc oriatur amplo
Copia cornu.

Prata pubesount gregibus superba ;
Cuncta subrident redimita sertis.
Num rogas unde hsec ? Regit his Georgcs
Altek et idem.

xv. and xvi. are a Greek elegy and sapphic.
xxiii. is a Latin sapphic ode addressed to the
new sovereign, elegant and spirited, setting all
the powers of nature ringing in with great joy
and hilarity the coming of the new sovereign.

Sewall was born at York, in the district of
Maine, in 1734, and was brought up as a joiner,
his industry in which calling gave him the means
of entering Harvard at the age of twenty-four.
He was Professor of Hebrew and Oriental Lan-
guages, in which he was a proficient, at Harvard,
from 1765 to 1785. His lectures were models of
English composition. He published a Hebrew
Grammar in 1763 ; a Latin oration on the death
of President Holyoke ; an oration on the death
of Professor Winthrop ; Scripture Account of the
Schekinah, 1774; History of the Destruction of
Sodom and Gomorrah, 1776 ; a translation of the
first book of Young's Night Thoughts into Latin
verse, and Garmina Sacra* In the college library
is a " Syriac and Ohaldee Grammar and Diction-
ary" in MS., prepared by him for publication; also
a "Treatise on Greek Prosody," and part of a
Greek and English Lexicon.t He died in 1804,
in his seventy-first year.

John Lowell, of Newbury, on the testimony of
the Anthology and Dr. Eliot, was the author of
No. vii., a not very remarkable eulogy of the
two sovereigns in English heroics. Lowell had
been graduated the year before, and was about
to lay the foundation of those legal attainments
•which made him a constitutional authority in his
own State, and Judge of the Federal Court in
Massachusetts, under the appointment of Wash-
ington.

vin., ix., and xvn., are ascribed, in Sewall's
copy, and by Deane, to the elder Bowdoin. The
first two are Latin epigrams ; the last is an Eng-
lish iambic in the good round measure of the
author, whom we shall meet again in his moral
poem on the Economy of Life. Bowdoin was

* The Night Thoughts were published in a small 18mo. of
21 pages, in 1786. Nocte Cogitata, Auctore, Anglice Scripta,
Young, D.D., qute Lingua Latii Donavit America. Carolop-
pidi: Typis Allen ibCushlng, Massachusettensium. The motto
is from Virgil — Suut lachfymae rerum, et mentem mortalia
tangunt. The dedication is to John Hancock, President of
Congress — Nomen prze se ferro gestit. It thus renders Young's
famous opening lines: —

Somnus, qui fessos reficit mitissimus artusl
Iste, homines vcluti, qua res fortuna secundat,
Prompte adit; at miseros torve fugit ore minaci:
Prieceps a luctu properat pernicibus alis,
Atque oculis, lachryma vacuis, considit amice.

The Carmina Sacra qum Latine Gneceque Condidit America
was published in a neat small quarto form of eight pages,
Wigornia3, Massachusettensis, typis Isaia? Thomas, 1789. It
gives versions of the 23d and "134th Psalms, the first nine
verses of the 4th chapter of the Song of Solomon, and a Greek
Ode on the Day of the Last Judgment The Canticles com-
mence : —

En venusta es, eara mihi, en venusta es, ■
Crinibus snbsunt oculi columbae:
Bunt tui crines, velut agmen errans
Monte caprinum.
t MS. list of Sewa'PB writings by T. M. Harris.

at this time a graduate of some sixteen years'
standing.

Samuel Deane, who wrote the English ode x.,
as appears by his own authority, was a Bachelor
of Arts of the year before. He was of the class
of 1760 of the college, its Librarian and Promus, —
a species of steward. He became noted as the
minister of Portland, Maine. He died in 1814,
having published an Election Sermon and the
New England Farmer or Georgical Dictionary .

xi., one of the longest English poems, was
written by Benjamin Church, of whom we say
something elsewhere ; and iv., in English rhyme,
may also be given to him, on the authority of a
marked copy in the Harvard Library.

xm. and xxviii., English odes, belong to Dr.
Samuel Cooper, then in his established pulpit
reputation, having left college eighteen years
before.

xviii., xix., xx., xxxi., on the Anthology
authority, may be set down to Governor Francis
Bernard, who may have been the writer also of
vi., a Latin elegiac. President Quincy assigns
five contributions to Bernard. The first two are
brief Grejk and Latin epitaphs, of which the
third is an English translation. Thirty-one is the
Epilogue, a Latin sapphic ode, prophetic of the
future glories of the American muse. It is not
often that the world gets so good an ode from a
Governor, but Bernard had kept up his old Oxford
education, and had a decided taste in literature,
knowing Shakspeare, it is said, by heart.*

EPILOGtjg.

Isis et Camus placide fluentes,
Qua novem fastos celebrant sorores,
Deferunt vatum pretiosa Regi

Dona Bkitanno.

Audit haee Flumen, prope Bostonense3
Quod Novanglorum studiis dicatas
Abluit sedes, eademque sperat

Munera ferre.

Obstat huie Phoebus, chorus omnis obstat
Virginum ; frustra officiosa pensum
Tentat insuetum indocilis ferire

Plectra juventua.

Attamen, si quid studium placendi.
Si valent quidquam Pietas Fidesque
Civica, omnino rudis hand peribit
Gratia Musse.

Quin erit tempus, cupidi augurantur
Vana m vates, sua cum Novangus
Grandius quoddam meliusque carmen
Chorda sonabit:

Dum regit mundum occiduum Britannus,
Et suas artes, sua jura terris
Dat novis, nullis eohiber.da metis

Regna capessens ;

Dum Debs pendens agitationes
Gentium, fluxo moderatur orbi,
Passus humanum genus hie perire,
Hie renovari

xxi., xxn., are Latin sapphies of which the
author is unknown ; nor has any name been
assigned to the spirited Latin epithalamium
xxiv., worthy to have been penned by Lovell
or Sewall.

* Allen's Biographical Dictionary.

14

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAS' LITERATURE.

xxix. of the Pietas et Gratulatio, in English
blank verse, is assigned by the Anthology lists to
Thomas Oliver, who had graduated eight years
before, and who was then living in retirement, to
be disturbed afterwards by his lieutenant-gover-
norship and loyalist flight to England. Peter
Oliver, to whom this has also been ascribed, had
graduated thirty-one years before, and was then
a Judge of the Superior Court of Massachusetts.

The English poem xxx. may have been written
by Bowdoin.

We have now enumerated each item of this
meritorious production, which is well worthy of
learned and antiquarian annotation at the hands
of some competent son of Old Harvard. The wri-
ters were nearly all alumni of the college, and
though not all fresh from its halls at the date of
this composition, the fact that they were scho-
lars, whose taste and literature had been thus far
preserved, is the more creditable to both parties,
when we consider how soon such accomplish-
ments generally fade amidst the active affairs of
the world.

Samuel Locke was the successor of Holyoke for
more than three years, when he resigned the office.
He made no particular mark in his college govern-
ment. He is said to have been a man of talents,
wanting knowledge of the world, which the situa-
tion in those revolutionary days demanded.

From 1774 to 1780 the chair was occupied by
Samuel Langdon, whose ardent Whig politics,
while the public was pleased, hardly compensat-
ed for his lack of judgment. He retired to the
duties of a country parish.

Joseph Willard was elected in 1781, and con-
tinued till his death, in 1804. "Having been
called to the President's chair in the midst of
the revolutionary war, when the general tone
of morals was weak, and the spirit of discipline
enervated, he sustained the authority of his sta-
tion with consummate steadfastness and prudence.
He found the seminary embarrassed, he left it
free and prosperous."*

Samuel Webber, before his presidency, from
1806 to 1810, had been Professor of Mathematics
in the college. He had been a farmer's boy, and
had entered the university at twenty. He pub-
lished a work on Mathematics in two volumes
octavo, which was much used in the early part
of the century. He was succeeded in the go-
vernment of the college by John Thornton Kirk-
land, who held the office from 1810 to 1828,
and whose honored memory is fresh in the
hearts of the present generation. All of these
Presidents, from the commencement to the time
of Quincy, were clergymen or preachers, as
they have always been graduates of the college
from the days of President Hoar. From Kirk-
land, in 1829, the office passed to Josiah Quincy,
who held it till 1845 ; when he was succeeded
by Edward Everett, 1846-49 ; and Jared Sparks
from that year till 1853, when the present in-
cumbent, James Walker, was called from his
chair of Moral Philosophy. His reputation as
a thinker and preacher was established by
his pulpit career at Charlestown, and the dis-
charge of the duties of his professorship ; and

* Quincy's Hist. ii. 2S3.

though fastidious in avoiding publication, by his
occasional discourses and articles in the Christian
Examiner, during his editorship of the journal
with the Rev. Dr. Greenwood. He has published,
as a college text-book, an edition of Reid "On
the Intellectual Powers," with notes, also an
edition of Dugald Stewart's " Philosophy of the
Active and Moral Powers," and has delivered a
course of Lowell lectures on "The Philosophy
of Religion."

Having brought the line of Presidents to the
present day, we may now notice a few incidental
points connected with the history of the college.

In 1814 a Professorship of Greek Literature
was founded by Samuel Eliot, a merchant of Bos-
ton, who liberally appropriated twenty thousand
dollars for the purpose. The gift was anonymons,
and the professorship did not bear his name till his
death in 1820. Edward Everett was the first in-
cumbent; and 0. C. Felton, since 1834, lias done
much to make the title known. In Astronomy and
Mathematics, Benjamin Peirce, since 1842; Dr.
Gray, the successor of Nuttall in Natural History,
in 1842 ; and Louis Agassiz, in Zoology and Geo-
logy, since 1847, have extended the reputation of
the college among men of science throughout the
world.

An important addition has been made to the
higher educational facilities of Cambridge in the
foundation, by the Hon. Abbott Lawrence, of the
Scientific School bearing his name. Its faculty
consists of the president and ten professors ; the
most important chairs, those of chemistry, geo-
logy, and engineering, are at present occupied
by Horsford, Agassiz, and Eustis. Students are
not admitted under the age of eighteen. An at-
tendance of at least one year on one or more of
the courses of lectures, and a satisfactory exami-
nation on the studies pursued, entitle the student
to the degree of Bachelor in Science cum laude.
To attain the highest grade, summd cum laude, a
more rigorous examination, exceeding in tho-
roughness, it is said by those who have been sub-
jected to it, the celebrated examinations at West
Point, must be passed. A Museum of Natural
History, under the supervision of the professors,
has been commenced on a scale commensurate
with the extended instructions of the school.

The Institution, besides the eminent professors
whom we have mentioned, enumerates amongst its
graduates and officers, the names of the Wiggles-
worths, the Wares, Woods, Channing, Buckmin-
ster, Norton, Palfrey, Noyes, Francis, in theo-
logy and sacred literature ; Edward Everett,
Popkin,* and Felton, in classic literature ; Ticknor,
Follen, and Longfellow, in the languages of con-
tinental Europe ; Winthrop, Webber, Bowditch,
Safford, Farrar, Peck, Cogswell, Nuttall, Harris,
Wyman, in the departments of mathematics, na-
tural history, and philosophy ; Isaac Parker, Par-
sons, Stearns, Story, Ashmun, Greenleaf, W'hea-
ton, William Kent, and Joel Parker, in the school
of jurisprudence; and the best talent of the time
and region in medicine and anatomy. Other

* A Memorial of the Rev. John Snelling Popkin was edited
by Professor Felton, in 1852. He was a man of a dry humor
and of sterling character. His lectures on classical subjects, of
which several are published, show him to have been a good
scholar and a polished man of his times.

HARVARD COLLEGE.

15

names of reputation are to be found in the list
of tutors, while the " bibliothecarii" have nobly
illustrated their calling, from early Stoddard,
Sewall, and Gookin, including Mather Byles and
the Librarian of the Astor Library, Dr. Cogswell,
to the present occupant, Dr. Harris, and the
Assistant Librarian, Mr. Sibley, than whom the
office never had a more accommodating or active
incumbent.*

The early college usages, the mode of living,
the respect to professors, interior rules and regu-
lations, the ceremonial on state occasions, offer
many curious subjects of inquiry. In 1693, the
Corporation passed an ordinance against the use
by the students in their rooms of " plum cake,"
which probably became contraband from its ac-
cessories. The Saturnalia of Commencement time
were celebrated. In the " Collection of Poems
by Several Hands," published in Boston in 1744,
to which Byles contributed, there is a pleasant
description in verse of the humors of Commence-
ment at Cambridge, recounting the adventures of
rural beaux and belles crossing the river, the fine
show made by the ladies of the town at their
windows, equalled only by the procession of stu-
dents. The church is filled, while the youth, full
of learning, declaim and debate, and having
received their degree from "the awful chief,"
proceed to " the sav'ry honors of the feast." The
fields about, in the meantime, are turned into
a fair, full of wrestlers, mountebanks, and ginger-
bread.

In 1771 was published " Brief Remarks on the
Satirical Drollery at Cambridge last Commence-
ment Day, with special reference to the character
of Stephen the Preacher, which raised such ex-
travagant mirth," by A. Croswell, V. D. M. in
Boston. The reverend divine seems to have been
greatly disturbed at the hilarity on the occasion,
created by some of the performances, " which
made the house of God to outdo the playhouses
for vain laughter and clapping." Croswell's
pamphlet drew out a reply, in " A letter to the
Rev. Andrew Croswell, by Simon the Tanner."

In the old Massachusetts Magazine for 1789,
there is a quaint paper addressed " To Students
of Colleges and Universities," eulogistic of the
beauty and opportunities of college halls and
usages.

The Fair day at Cambridge was kept up till
within quite a recent period. To this day the
banks of Boston are closed on the holiday of
Commencement, and the Governor goes out in
state to the exercises, escorted by city troops.

The second centennial anniversary of the col-
lege foundation was celebrated in September,
1836, with great eclat. A pavilion was erected
on the college grounds, where the alumni assem-
bled, answering to the roll-call of graduates. An
old man of eighty-six, of the class of 1774, was
the first to answer. The Address was delivered
by President Quincy. Odes were recited, speeches
were made by Everett, Story, and other magnates
of the institution. Everett presided, and Robert
C. Winthrop, a direct descendant of the first

His History of the Town of Union, in Maine, is a mono-
graph of local history, written with fidelity and spirit: one of
the best of a class of compositions of inestimable interest to
our American historical literature.

governor of the colony, one of the earliest sup-
porters of the college, was the marshal of the day.
The college buildings were illuminated in the
evening.

Gore Hall, the library building, completed in
1841, is named in honor of Christopher Gore, who
had been Governor of the State, and United
States Commissioner to England under the Jay
treaty, who left the college a bequest amounting
to nearly one hundred thousand dollars. The
several libraries connected with the University
contain about one hundred thousand volumes.
Among the specialities, besides the Hollis, the
Palmer, and other donations, are the Ebeling
collection of American books, purchased and
presented by Israel Thorndike in 1818, the Ame-
rican historical library of Warden, former Con-
sul at Paris, purchased at a cost of more than
five thousand dollars, and presented to the col-
lege by Samuel Atkins Eliot, in 1823, a collec-
tion further enriched by the application of the
Prescott bequest in 1845.* The library has also
its collection of portraits and statuary.

Gore Hall is of granite, of the general design
of King's College Chapel at Cambridge.

Goro Hall.

The Picture Gallery, in the room extending
through the entire lower story of Harvard Hall,
contains more than forty portraits of benefactors
of the institution, and of other eminent individu-
als. Nearly all are works of merit, being the
productions of Copley, Stuart, Trumbull, New-
ton, Smibert, and Frothingham, with other more
recent painters.

In the literary associations of Harvard, the Phi
Beta Kappa Society should not be forgotten. It
was introduced at Harvard from the original
charter, at William and Mary College, in Vir-
ginia, about the year 1778. It was a secret
society, with its grip for personal communication,
and its cypher for correspondence, though con-
fined to purely literary objects. For some time
the literary exercises usual with college clubs
were kept up by the students, though they have
been intermitted for the last twenty or thirty
years. Meetings of undergraduates are held only
to elect members from the next class; and the
entire action of the society at Cambridge is

* Jowett's Smithsonian Institution Library Report, 82.

16

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

limited to an oration and poem, and the enter-
tainment of a dinner, in. which it alternates with
the Association of the Alumni, so that each has
its exercises every second year. Edward Everett
was for several years its President at Harvard.
Its literary exercises have been distinguished by
many brilliant productions. Joseph Bartlett pro-
nounced his poem on "Physiognomy" in 1799;
Everett's poem, on " American Poets," was deli-
vered in 1812; Bryant's "Ages" in 1821;
Sprague's "Curiosity" in 1829; Dr. Holmes's
"Metrical Essay on Poetry" in 1836.

In the religious opinions of its conductors, and
its plan of education, Harvard has faithfully re-
presented the times, during the long period
through which it has passed. A glance at its cata-
logue will show its early proficiency in the studies
connected with sacred literature and natural phi-
losophy. Though always producing good scholars,
its polished Belles Lettres training has been com-
paratively of recent growth. When the first
catalogue of the library was printed in 1723, it
contained not a single production of Dryden, the
literary magnate of its period ; of the accomplished
statesman and essayist, Sir William Temple, of
Shaftesbury, Addison, Pope, or Swift."* It has,
to the present day, largely supplied the cultiva-
tion of Massachusetts, and for a long time,
from its commencement, the whole of New Eng-
land, furnishing the distinguished men of the
State and its professions. Its new professorships
of the Classics, of Rhetoric, of the Modern Lan-
guages, of Law, of Science, mark the progress of
the world in new ideas. Though for the most
part ostensibly founded with conservative reli-
gious views, our colleges have not been generally
very rigid guardians of opinion. Their course
has rather been determined by influences from
without. Established in old Puritan times, Har-
vard has suffered, of course, a disintegration
of the staunch orthodoxy of its old Chauncys
and Mathers. About the beginning of the cen-
tury, it passed over virtually into its present
Unitarianism, though the officers of instruction
and government are of nearly all denominations.

This narrative might be pursued at great length,
following out the details of bequests and legacies,
the dates of college buildings, the foundation of
scholarships and professorships through long
series of incumbents more or less eminent. Pre-
sident Quincy, who is not a diffuse writer, has
not extended the subject beyond the interest or
sympathies of his intelligent reader, in his two
large octavo volumes. For the minutiae of ad-
ministration, and other points of value in the his-
tory of education and opinion in America, we
may refer to his work — to the faithful but not so
extensive chronicle of Benjamin Peirce, the libra-
rian of the University, who closes his account with
the presidency of Holyoke, to the sketch of the
history of the College by Samuel A. Eliot, and
to the judicious History of Cambridge by Abiel
Hohnes.

THE BAT PSALM BOOK.
The first book of consequence printed in the
country was what is called Tlie Bay Psalrn

* Peirce's History of Harvard Univ. 109.

Booh. "About the year 1639," says Cotton Ma-
ther, in the Magnalia, " the new English Reform-
ers resolving upon a new translation [of the
Psalms], the chief divines in the country took each
of them a portion to be translated; among whom
were Mr. Welde and Mr. Eliot of Roxbury, and
Mr. Mather of Dorchester. The Psalms thu3
turn'd into Metre were printed at Cambridge, in
the year 1640."*

The Rev. Thomas Welde was the first minister
of Roxbury, where he was the associate of Eliot,
the Apostle to the Indians. He returned to
England with Hugh Peters, and became the
author of two tracts in vindication of the purity
of the New England worship. Mr. Richard Ma-
ther was the father of Cotton, who goes on to
add — " These, like the rest, were of so different a
genius for their poetry, that Mr. Shepard of Cam-
bridge, on the occasion, addressed them to this
purpose.

You Roxbury Poets, keep clear of the crime
Of missing to give us a very good rhyme.
And you of Dorchester your verses lengthen,
And with the text's own word you will them
strengthen.

The design was to obtains closer adherence to
the sense than the versions of Ainsworth,f which
they chiefly employed, and of Sternhold and Hop-
kins offered. The preface to the new book set
this forth distinctly as a motive of the collection,

because every good minister hath not a gift of
spiritual poetry to compose extemporary psalmes as
he hath of prayer.

* * Neither let any think, that for the metre
sake we have taken liberty or poetical licence to
depart from the true and proper sense of David's
words in the Hebrew verses, noe ; but it hath been
one part of our religious care and faithful endeavour,
to keepe close to the original text.

* * If, therefore, the verses are not always so
smooth and elegant as some may desire or expect;
let them consider that God's altar needs not our
polishings, Ex. 20 : for we have respected rather a
plain translation, than to smooth our verses with
the sweetness of any paraphrase, and so have
attended conscience rather than elegance, fidelity
rather than poetry, in translating the Hebrew words
into English language, and David's poetry into Eng-
lish metre, that so we may sing in Sion the Lord's
songs of praise according to his own will ; until he
take us from hence, and wipe away all our tears, and
bid us enter into our master's joy to sing eternal
Hallelujahs.

As specimens of this version we may give the
following, not remarkable for grace or melody,
however distinguished for fidelity.

* Magnalia, iii. 100. We take the title from the copy in the
Mass. Hist. Soc. Library, which, from an entry on a fly-leaf, was
one of the books belonging to "the New England Library,"
begun to be collected Dy Thomas Prince, upon his entering
Harvard College July 6, 1708. The Whole Book of Palms
faithfully translated into English metre. Whereunto is pre-
fixed a discourse declaring not only the lawfulness, but also the
necessity of the heavenly ordinance of singing Scripture
Psalms in the Churches of God. Imprinted 1640.

t Henry Ainsworth was a native of England, a leader of the

Brownists, and a man of eminent learning. He retired, on the

banishment of the sect, to Holland, where he published his

" Book of Psalms" in Amsterdam in 1612. The Puritans

! brought it with them to Plymouth. Sternhold and Hopkins's

i version of a portion of the Psalms was made in England aa

I early as 1549.

THE BAY PSALM BOOK.

17

PSAXSIE 18.
******

6. I in my streights, cal'd on the Lord,
and to my Gud ery'd : he did heare
from his temple my voyce, my erye,
before him came, unto his eare.

1. Then th' earth shooke and quak't and moun-
taiues
roots moov'd, and were stir'd at his ire.

8. Up from his nostrils went a smoak,
and from his mouth devouring fire:
By it the eoales inkiudled were.

9. Likewise the heavens he downe-bow'd,
and he descended, and there was
under his feet a gloomy cloud.

10. And he on cherub rode, and flew ;
yea he flew on the wings of winde.

11. His secret place hee darknes made
bis covert that him round coufinde,
Dark waters, and thick clouds of skies.

psalme 123.
A Song of degrees.

1. Blessed is every one
that doth Jehovah feare ;
that walks his wayes along.

2. For thou shalt eate with cheere

thy hands labour:
blest shalt thou bee,
it well with thee

shall be therefore.

3. Thy wife like fruitful vine
shall be by thine house side :
the children that be thine
like olive plants abide

about thy board.

4. Behold thus blest
that man doth rest,

that feares the Lord.

5. Jehovah shall thee blesse
from Sion, and shall see
Jerusalem's goodness

all thy life's days that bee.

6. And shall view well
thy children then

with their children,
peace on Isr'ell.

In a second edition of the work in 1647, were
added a few spiritual songs. This is a specimen
of the latter from the " Song of Deborah and
Barak."

Jael the Kenite, Heber's wife

'bove women blest shall be.
Above the women in the tent

a blessed one is she.
He water ask'd, she gave him milk :

in lordly dish she fetch'd
Him butter forth : unto the nail

she forth her left hand stretched :

Her right hand to the workman's maul

and Sisera hammered :
She pierced and struck his temples through,

and then cut off his head.
He at her feet bow'd, fell, lay down,

he at her feet bow'd where
He fell: whereas he bowed down

he fell distroyed there.
VOL. I. 2

" A little more art," says Mather, was found to
be necessary to be employed upon this version,
and it was committed for revision to the President
of Harvard, the Rev. Henry Dunster, who was
assisted in the task by Richard Lyon, an oriental
scholar, who came over to the colony as the tutor
to the son of Sir Henry Mildmay. The versifica-
tion improved somewhat under their hands.

Previously to the publication of this edition, to
assist it with the people, came forth the Rev. John
Cotton's treatise, " Singing of Psalms a Gospel
ordinance," urging the duty of singing aloud in
spiritual meetings, the propriety of using the
examples in Scripture, and the whole congrega-
tion joining in the duty ; and meeting the objec-
tions to the necessary deviation from the plain
text of the Bible. The circumstance that Popish
churches used chants of David's prose helped him
along in the last particular. The difficulties to be
met show a curious state of religious feeling.
That the use of the Psalms of David in religious
worship, should be vindicated, in preference to
dependence upon the special spiritual inspirations
of this kind on the occasion, such as the state of
New England literature at that time afforded, is
something notable in the Puritan history. Another
scruple it seems was in permitting women to take
part in public psalmody by an ingenious textual
argument which ran this way. By a passage in
Corinthians it is forbidden to a woman to speak
in the church — "how then shall they sing?"
Much less, according to Timothy, are they to pro-
phesy in the Church — and singing of Psalms is a
kind of prophesying. Then the question was
raised whether " carnal men and pagans" should
sing with Christians and Church-members. Such
was the illiberal casuistry which Cotton was re-
quired to meet. He handled it on its own
grounds with breadth and candor, in the spirit
of a scholar and a Christian. " Though spiritual
gifts," he wrote, " are necessary to make melody
to the Lord in singing; yet spiritual gifts are
neither the only, nor chief ground of singing ; but
the chief ground thereof is the moral duty lying
upon all men by the commandment of God : If
any oe merry to sing Psalms. As in Prayers,
though spiritual gifts be requisite to make it ac-
ceptable, yet the duty of prayer lieth upon all
men by that commandment which forbiddeth
atheism : it is the fool that saith in his heart
there is no God : of whom it is said they call not
upon the Lord, which also may serve for a just
argument and proof of the point."

The Bay Psalm Book was now adopted and
was almost exclusively used in the New England
Churches. It passed through at least twenty-
seven editions by 1750.

The first American edition of Sternhold and
Hopkins's version was published at Cambridge in
1693.

Cotton Mather, in 1718, published a new literal
version of the Psalms — " The Psalterium Ameri-
canum," of which a notice will be found in the
account of that author. The Rev. Thomas Pri nee,
the antiquarian, revised the Bay Psalm Book
with care. It was published in 1758 and intro-
duced into the Old South Church, of which he
had been pastor, in October of that year, the
Sunday after his death.

Dr. Watts's Hymns were first published in

18

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

England in 1707, and his Psalms in 1719. He
sent Specimens of them the year before to Cotton
Mather, who expressed his appro val. The Hymns
were first published in America by Dr. Franklin
in 1741, and the Psalms in the same year, in Bos-
ton. They did not come into general use till after
the Revolution.

Tate and Brady's version of the Psalms, pub-
lished in England at the close of the seventeenth
century, was not reprinted in America till 1741.
It furnished the material for the collection in use
by the Protestant Episcopal Church.

In 1752, the Eev. John Barnard, pastor at Mar-
blehead for fifty-four years, who lived in great
estimation for his high character to the. age of
eighty-eight, published a new version of the
Psalms based on the old Bay Psalm Book.*

NATHANIEL WAED.

J7Gt$nPimt$

The most quaint and far-fetched in vigorous ex-
pression of the early political and religious tracts
generated in New England, is that piece of pedan-
tic growling at toleration, and pungent advice to
British Royalty, inclosing a satire on the fashiona-
ble ladies of the day, the production of Nathaniel
Ward, Pastor of the Church at Ipswich, which
is entitled the Simple Cooler of Ag amain. \ This
was written in America in 1645, when the author
was seventy -five. It has a home thrust or two
at the affairs and manners of the colony, showing
where it was written, but is mainly levelled at
the condition of England. The style is for the
most part very affected, " a Babylonish Dialect ;"
full of the coinage of new words, — ■

Words so debas'd and hard, no stone
Was hard enough to touch them on —

passing, however, into very direct nervous Eng-
lish in the appeal to the King, then at war with
his subjects.

Theodore de la Guard, the name assumed by
the author, addresses his remarks " to his native
country." Ward was born in England in 1570,
at Haverhill, in Suffolk. His father Samuel, the
"painful minister" of that place, had four sons
in the Church, of whom, according to Dr. Fuller
in his " Worthies," people used to say that all of
them put together would not make up his abili-

*A History of Music in New England, by George Hood.
Boston : 1846. Much interesting matter has been collected by
Mr. Hood, who gives specimens of the writers. Moore's En-
cyclopasdia of Music and Psalmody.

tThe Simple Cobler of Aggawam in America, willing to help
'mend his native country, lamentably tattered, both in the
upper-leather and sole, with all the honest stitches he can
take. And as willing never to be paid for his work, by old
English wonted pay.

It is his trade to patch all the year long, gratis,
Therefore I pray, Gentlemen, keep yoiir purses.

By Theodore de la Guard. In rebus arduU ac tenui spe,
fortissimo, quaque consilia tutissima sunt. Cic. In English,

When bootes and shoes are torne up to the lefts,
Coblers must thrust their awls up to the hefts.

This is no time to feare ApcUes granvm :
Ne Sutor quid&m ultra crepidam.

London : Printed by J. D. & R. I. for Stephen Bowtell, at the
eigne of the Bible in Pope's Head Alley, 1647.

ties. Fuller has also preserved his Latin Epi-
taph :

Quo si quis scivit scitius,

Aut si quis docuit doctius ;

At rarus vixit sanctius,

Et nullus tonuit fortius :

and thus translated it : —

Grant some of knowledge greater 6tore,

More learned some in teaching;
Tet few in life did lighten more,

None thundered more in preaching.

In the library of the Mass. Historical Society
there is an old London quarto of the seventeenth
century, entitled " A Warning Piece to all Drunk-
ards and Health Drinkers," which contains a "col-
lection of some part of a Sermon long since
preached " by Mr. Samuel Ward, of Ipswich, en-
titled, A Wo to Drunkards. "He lived," con-
tinues this old writer, " in the days of famous King
James, and was like righteous Lot, whose soul was
vexed with the wicked conversation of the So-
domites. He published divers other good sermons.
His text was in Proverbs xxiii. 29, 32. To
lohom is woe t to whom is sorrow ? to whom is
strife ? In the end it will bite like a serpent, and
sting like a cockatrice, lie begins thus :

" Seer, art thou also drunk or asleep ? or hath a
spirit of slumber put out thine eyes? Up to thy
"watch-tower, what descriest thou ? Ah, Lord !
what end or number is there of the vani-
ties which mine eyes are weary of beholding?
But what seest thou ? I see men -walking like the
tops of trees shaken with the wind, like, masts of
ships reeling on the tempestuous seas : drunkenness,
I mean, that hateful night bird ; which was wont
to wait for the twilight, to seek nooks and corners,
to avoid the howting and wonderment of boys and
girls ; now as if it were some eaglet, to dare the
sun-light, to fly abroad at high noon in every street,
in open markets and fairs, without fear or shame.
* * * Go to then now ye Drunkards, listen, not
what I or any ordinary hedge-priest (as j'ou style
us) but that most wise and experienced royal
preacher hath to say unto you. * * You promise
yourself mirth, pleasure and jollity in your cups ;
but for one drop of your mad mirth, be sure of gal-
lons and tons of woe, gall, wormwood and bitter-
ness, here and hereafter. Other sinners shall taste
of the cup, but you shall drink off the dregs of
God's wrath and displeasure. * * You pretend
you drink healths and for health ; but to whom are
all kind of diseases, infirmities, deformities, pearled
faces, palsies, dropsies, headaches, if not to drunk-
ards.' "

His son Nathaniel was educated at Cambridge,
was bred a lawyer, travelled on the Continent with
some merchants in Prussia and Denmark, becom-
ing acquainted with the learned theologue Pa-
rous at Heidelberg, and influenced by his au-
thority, devoted himself to divinity. Returning
to England he took orders and procured a parish
in Hertfordshire. He had some connexion with
the Massachusetts Company in 1629, got into
difficulty as a nonconformist in 1631, was si-
lenced as a preacher and came to America in the
summer of 1634, where he was set up as pastor
of the church at Ipswich, formerly the Indian
town of Agawam. He had John Norton, on his
arrival from England the next year, as his asso-
ciate. He soon after resigned this situation, and

NATHANIEL WARD.

19

appears to have been clerical and political assistant
in general to the country. His legal training
enabled him to prepare a draft of laws, called
for by the people of the province, which was
more constitutional than the theocratical propo-
sitions of John Cotton. His suggestions were
mostly included in the code entitled "Body of
Liberties," of which he was the author. It was
the first code of laws established in New Eng-
land, being adopted in 1641. It is not to be
confounded with the "Abstract of Laws" pre-
pared by Cotton. Many of its provisions and
omissions are sagacious, and its statutes are
tersely worded. A manuscript copy of the
"Liberties" was some time since discovered by
Mr. Francis C. Gray, of Boston, who has pub-
lished tbe work in the Mass. Hist. Society Col-
lections, accompanied by a judicious review of
the early legislation.* Ward's Code exhibits,
he says, " throughout the hand of the practical
lawyer, familiar with the principles and securities
of English liberty ; and though it retains some
strong traces of the times, is in the main far in
advance of them, and in several respects in
advance of the Common Law of England at
this day." Ward returned to England, where,
shortly after his arrival in 1647, he published
The Simple Cobler, which he had written in
America. He obtained an English parish the
next year, at Shenfield in Essex, where he died in
1653. Fuller celebrates his reputation for wit in
England, as one who, " following the counsel of
the poet,

Ridentcm dicere varum,

Qui.? vctat?

What doth forbid but one may smile,

And also tell the truth the while ?

hath, in a jesting way, in some of his hooks,
delivered much smart truth of the present times.''t
Cotton Mather, in the Magnalia, has written the
life of his son who settled at Haverhill, on the
Merrimack, and has given a few lines to the
father's memory as " the author of many compo-
sures full of wit and sense ; among which, that
entituled The Simple Colder (which demonstrated
him to be a subtle statesman), was most consi-
dered ;" and in his Remarkables of his father,
Increase Mather, he alludes to Ward's hundred
witty speeches, with an anecdote of the inscrip-
tion over his mantelpiece, the four words en-
graved Sobrie, Juste, Pie, Lcete.

While looking over the notices of Ward which
remain, and which are not so many as could be
wished, it has been our good fortune to hold in
our hands the copy of The Simple Cobler which
belonged to Robert Southey, who, as is well
known, was a diligent reader and warm apprecia-
tor of the American Colonial history and records.
It is marked throughout with his peculiar pencil-
lings on the margin, of the following among other
fine passages : " the least truth of God's kingdom,
doth in its place uphold the whole kingdom of
his Truths ; take away the least vericulum out of
the world and it unworlds all potentially, and may

* Remarks on the Early Laws of Massachusetts Bay, with
the Code adopted in 164f, and called the Body of Liberties,
now first presented by F. C. Gray, LL.D., &c. Mass. Hist.
Soc. Coll., Third Series, viii. 191.

t Fuller's Worthies, Ed. 1850, iii. 1ST.

unravel the whole texture actually, if it "be not
conserved by an arm of extraordinary power" —
a sentence which has a very Coleridgean look.
Again, an illustration worthy of Milton: " Non
senescit Veritas. No man ever saw a gray hair
on the head or beard of any Truth, wrinkle or
morphew on its face : the bed of Truth is green
all the year long." This is very tersely expressed :
" It is a most toilsome task to run the wild goose
chase after a well-breath'd opinionist : they delight
in vitilitigation : it is an itch, that loves a life to
be scrub'd ; they desire not satisfaction, but satis-
diction, whereof themselves must be judges." In
these more earnest thoughts he rises beyond his
word-catching ; but one portion of his book is
very amusing in this way, that directed against
the fashionable ladies of the time. The Cobler
professes to be a solitary widower of twelve
years' standing, on the look-out for a mate, and
thinking of going to England for the purpose —
" but," says he, " when I consider how women
have tripe-wifed themselves with their cladments,
I have no heart to the vo,yage, lest their nauseous
shapes, and the sea, should work too sorely upon
my stomach. I speak sadly ; methinks it should
break the hearts of Englishmen to see so many
goodly English-women imprisoned in French
cages, peering out of their hood-holes for some
men of mercy to help them with a little wit, and
nobody relieves them." He tells us there are
" about five or six" specimens of the kind in the
colony: "if I see any of them accidentally, I
cannot cleanse my fancy of them for a month
after." On this matter the Cobler thus defines
his position : — " It is known more than enough,
that I am neither niggard nor cynic, to the due
bravery of the true gentry : if any man mislikes
a bully mong drosock more than I, let him take
her for his labour : I honour the woman that can
honour herself with her attire : a good text
always deserves a fair margent: I am not much
offended if I see a trim, tar trimmer than she
that wears it : in a word, whatever Christianity
or civility will allow, I can afford with London
measure: hut when I hear a nugiperous gentle-
dame inquire what dress the Queen is in this
week: what the nudiustertian fashion of the
court, I mean the very newest; with egg to he
in it in all haste, whatever it he ; I look at her as
the very gizzard of a trifle, the product of a quar-
ter of a cypher, the epitome of nothing, fitter to
be kickt, if she were of a kickable substance, than
either honour'd or humour'd."

Like most of the Puritans, Ward was a bit
of a poet, a cultivator of that crabbed muse
who frowned so often on such votaries. But
Ward was too sensitive a wit not to have suspi-
cion of his own verses, and says modestly and
truly enough of his attempts : — " I can impute it
to nothing, but to the flatuousness of our diet:
they are but sudden raptures, soon up, soon down."
Here are some lines for King Charles's considera-
tion which he appends to his book, and calls
" driving in half a dozen plain honest country
hobnails, such as the Martyrs were wont to
wear."

There, lives cannot be good,
There, faith cannot be sure,

Where truth cannot be quiet,
Nor ordinances pure.

20

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

* No king can ting it right,
Nor rightly away his rod ;
Who truly loves not Christ,
And truly fears not God.

He cannot rule a land,

As lands should ruled been,

That lets himself be rul'd
By a ruling Roman Queen.

ISfo earthly man can be

True subject to this state ;
Who makes the Pope his Christ,

An heretique his mate.

There peace will go to war,

And silence make a noise:
Where upper things will not

With nether equipoise.

The upper world shall rule,

While stars will run their race :

The nether world obey,

While people keep their place.*

To which we may add Ms

PEEFATOBY LINES TO THE POEMB OF ANJfE BEADSTEEET.

Mercury shov/d Apollo, Bartas book,

Minerva this, and wish'd him well to look,

And tell uprightly, which did which excel:

He view'd and view'd, and vow'd he could not tell.

They bid him hemisphere his mouldy nose,

Witn's crack'd leering glasses, for it would pose

The best brains he had in's old pudding-pan,

Sex weigh'd, which best, the woman or the man?

He peer'd, and por'd, and glar'd, and said for wore,

I'm even as wise now, as I was before.

They both 'gan laugh, and said, it was no mar'l.

The auth'ress was a right Bit Bartas girl.

Good sooth, quoth the old Don, tell me ye so,

I muse whither at length these girls will go.

It half revives my chill frost-bitten blood,

To see a woman once do ought that's good ;

And chode by Chaucer's boots and Homer's furs,

Let men look to't, lest women wear the spurs.

Ward was also the author of a humorous sati-
rical address in 1648, to the London tradesmen
turned preachers, entitled Mercurius Anti-meclia-
nicus, or the Simple Cobler's Boy,i in which he
devotes twelve chapters of punning and exhorta-
tion to the Confectioner ; the Smith ; the Eight
and Left Shoe-Maker ; the Needless Tailor from
Ms working (im)posture ; the Saddler ; the Por-
ter; the Labyrinthian Box-maker; the All-be-
smearing Soap-boiler or the sleepy Sopor ; the
Both-handed Glover; the White-handed Meal-
man ; the Chicken-man ; and the Button-maker.
He extracts from each the quaint analogies and
provocations of his particular calling, running
riot in a profusion of puns and moralities, en-
grafted by his strong vigorous sense on Ms devo-
tional ardor, study of the times, and collegiate

* The Simple Cooler, in the old editions, is a scarce hook.
The old Boston reprint bears date 1713. It has been lately
republished by Munroe & Co. in 1S43, with an introductory
notice by David Pulsifer. There is an article on Ward in the
Monthly Anthology for May, 1319, from the pen of Dr. J. G.
Cogswell.

t Mercurius Anti-mechanicus, or the Simple Cobler's Boy.
With his Lap-fnil of Caveats (or Take heeds), Documents, Ad-
vertisements and Prcemonitions, to all his honest fellow-
tradesmen-Preachers, but more especially a dozen of them, in
or about the City of London. By Theodore de la Guarden.
London : Printed for John Walker, at the Sign of the Starre
In Pipes-head Alley. 1648.

classicahties. The Cobler's boy proves Mmself as
efficient at patching and mending souls as Ms sire.
His pulpit-confectioner he warns against that
"doctrine of indulgence," reminding Mm that
" we must not speak tMngs tooth-some but whole-
some." " Coloquintida," says he, " must usher
in ambrosia. Children would never eat so much
raw and forbidden fruit (to vermiculate their in-
trals) if they could but remember that ever since
Adam's time poma fuisse mala. If sugar-plums
lead the van, scouring pills will challenge the rear.
Too much diet-bread will bring a man to a diet
drink ; mack-roones will make room for (no good)
luxury. Marmalade may marre my Lady, me it
shall not. March pane shall not be my arch-
bane." He then utters a meditation " that spice
when it is bruised and small (being beat and heat),
it sends up a sweet savour into the nostrils of the
smiter: so a gracious man, the more his God
bruises and beats Mm by afflictions, the more
small he is broken in himself, the more fragrant
and ravishing odours he sends up to heaven.
The more the Lord brayes, the more he prayes."
He reminds the Smith not to have too many irons
in the fire, and that it is easier to make his anvil
groan than the hearts of his hearers. A seared
conscience, he says, " is like the smith's dog that
hath been so addicted to sleep under the very
anvil that no noise will convince Mm to an
awakening." The Cobler's boy is of course at
home with the shoe-maker, whom he warns "not
to go beyond his last by seeking to be one of the
first." The tailor's disposition, he sa}Ts, " must be
not more cross than his legs or shears." From
the porter pursuing his trudging vocation abroad
he draws this quaint conclusion, "that he walks
abroad all day, but the evening brings him home :
many a prodigal roames abroad all the dajT of
prosperity ; but the night of adversity brings Mm
home to God. Therefore I shut up with an ad-
miring question thus, — What a strange owl-e3-ed
creature is man, who (for the most part) finds the
way home best in the dark." The box-maker
naturally recalls to so ingenious a witted person
the pulpit : " but perhaps thou accountest a pulpit
a box, and I'll tell thee a brief story to that effect.
A little child being at a sermon and observing the
minister very vehement in his words and bodily
gesture, cried out, ' Mother, why don't the people
let the man out of the box?' Then I entreat
thee behave thyself well in preaching, lest men
say truly this is Jack in a box!" His Chicken-
man is to learn " that many men woodcock -like
live by their long bills." So he puns on through
over fifty pages of typographical eccentricities in
small quarto. He was a contemporary of Dr.
Thomas Fuller, the admirable wit and Church
historian, who we have seen appreciated him,
and has much in common with his genius, though
the one was suffering with the ecclesiastical esta-
blishment, wMch the other was bent upon de-
stroying.

JOHN COTTON.-JOHN NOET03ST.
Johtn" Cotton, " the great Cotton," whose general
amiability, piety, political influence, and pastoral
'fidelity are memorable in the New England
Churches, was born at Derby, in England, in 1585.
He was an eminent student, and a fellow of Cam-

JOHN COTTON.

21

bridge, where he became a Puritan, and was after-
wards minister in Lincolnshire for twenty years,
bearing a high reputation for his personal worth
and his theological acumen, till a citation before
Laud's Ecclesiastical Court induced him to escape
prosecution in America, where he landed in 1633,
and was established the same year in the ministry
of the Boston Church, which he held nineteen years,
till his death in 1652. He was an ardent admirer
of church and state authority according to the
theocratic Mosaic dispensation of the Jews. In
1636, Cotton was appointed by the General Court
to prepare a scheme of laws for the government
of the colony. He performed the task, but his
work was not accepted, the " Body of Liberties,"
by Ward, being preferred in its stead. Cotton's
"Abstract of the Laws of New England as they
are now established,"* was printed in London, in
1641, a book which has passed incorrectly for the
code in actual operation in New England. Heresy,
by these proposed laws, was punishable with death.
Scripture authorities were freely quoted, as, for
Bending out warrants for calling of the General
Court, Josh. xxiv. 1.

The ingenuity of Cotton was considerably taxed
in his controversy with Roger Williams, in his
attempts to reconcile the authority of the civil
power with rights of conscience. Williams had
charged him with "holding a bloody tenent of
persecution ;" when Cotton entitled his reply
The Bloody Tenent washed and made white in the
Blood of the Lamb,] to which Williams rejoined.
The controversy was conducted with much polemi-
cal acuteness on both sides.

In 1642, he published a tract on Set Forms of
Prayer,\ from which we may present a charac-
teristic passage :

In ease a distressed soul do meet with a prayer
penned by a godly and well-experienced Christian,
and do find his own case pithily and amply deci-
phered and anatomized therein, we deny not but his
heart and affections may go along with it, and say

* This la reprinted in Mass. Hist. Soc. Coll., First Series, v.
178, and sequel. In 1655, after Cotton's death, this was pub-
lished in London in a complete form by William Aspinwall, as
"collected and digested into the ensuing method by that godly
grave and judicious divine Mr. John Cotton of Boston in
New England, in his lifetime, and presented to the General
Court of Massachusetts." See F. C. Gray's review of the
matter, Mass. Hist. Soc. Coll., Third Series, viii. 192, 8.

t The Bloody Tenent, washed and made white in the Blood
of the Lamb: being discussed and discharged of blood-guilti-
ness by just defence. Wherein the great questions of this
present time are handled, viz. How farre liberty of conscience
ought to be given to those that truly fear God? And how fane
restrained to turbulent and pestilent persons, that not only
raze the foundation of godliness, but disturb the Civil Peace
where they live? Also how f.irre the magistrate may proceed
in the duties of the firstTnblo? And that all magistrates ought
to study the word and will of God, that they may frame their
government according to it. Discussed as they are alledged
from various Scriptures, out of the Old and New Testaments.
Wherein also the practice of Princes is debated, together with
the judgment of ancient and late writers of most precious
esteem. Whereunto is added a Reply to Mr. Williams' An-
swer to Mr. Cotton's Letter. By John Cotton, Batchelor in
Divinity, and Teacher of the Church of Christ at Boston, in
New England. London: Printed bv Matthew Svmmons, for
Hannah Allen, at the Ciowne in Pope's-Head Alley, 1(H7. 4to.
Pp. 105, 144.

t From a modest and clear Answer to Mr. Ball's Discourse
of Set Form* of Prayer, set forth in a most seasonable time,
when this kingdom is now in consultation about matters of
that nature, and so many godly long after the resolution in
that point. Written by the Reverend and learned John Cot-
ton. B.D., and Teacher of the Church of Christ, at Boston in
NewEngland. London: Printed bv E. O.anrt G.D , for Henry
Overton, in Pope's Head Alley. 1642. 4to. pp. 51.

Amen to it, and thus far may find it a lawful help
to him ; but if you set apart such a prayer to sup-
port him as a crutch in his prayers (as without
which he cannot walk straight and upright in that
duty), or if he that penned that prayer, or others
that have read it, do enjoin it upon him, and forbid
him to pray (and especially with others), unless he
use that form, this, instead of a crutch, will prove a
cudgell, to break the bones of the spirit in prayer,
and force him to halt in worshipping God after the
precepts of men ; as it hath been said before, so it
may be again remembered here ; a man may help
his spirit in meditation of his mortality, by behold-
ing a dead man's scalp cast in his way, by God's
providence ; but if he should set apart a death's
head, or take it up as enjoined to him by others,
never to meditate or confer with others about his
mortality, and estate of another life, but in the sight
and use of the death's head, such a soul shall find
but a dead heart, and a dead devotion from such a
means of mortification ; if 6ome forms of prayer,
especially such as gave occasion to this dispute, do
now seem to be as bread to the hungry, we say no
more but this: then hungry souls will never be
starved, that never want store of such like bread as
this is.

Cotton's Keys of the kingdom of Heaven and
Power thereof exhibits his system of church go-
vernment.* He published numerous discourses
and religious treatises of a practical and expository
character, from a catechism to sermons on the
Revelations, beside his controversial religious and
political writings. The titles of some of these
writings are in the quaint style of the times, as his
Mills for Babes, a Catechism, and his Meat for
Strong Men, which was an exposition of civil
government in a plantation founded with religious
motives.

f Co(6c

o-n,

Like most of the old New England divines,
he could on occasion turn his hand to verse.
A specimen of this kind has been preserved in
Secretary Morton's "New England's Memorial."

ON MY REVEREND AND DEAR BROTHER, MR. THOMAS HOOKER,
LATE CASTOR OF THE CHURCH AT HARTFORD ON CONNECTICUT.

To see three things was holy Austin's wish,
Rome in her flower, Christ Jesus in the flesh,
And Paul i' the Pulpit : lately men might see,
Two first, and more, in Hooker's ministry.

Zion in beauty, is a fairer sight,

Than Rome in flower, with all her glory dight:

Yet Zion's beauty did most clearly shine

In Hooker's rule and doctrine ; both divine.

Christ in the spirit is more than Christ in flesh,
Our souls to quicken, and our states to bless
Yet Christ in spirit brake forth mightily,
In faithful Hooker's searching ministry.

Paul in the pulpit, Hooker could not reach,
Yet diil he Christ in spirit so livelv preach
That living hearers thought he did inherit
A double portion of Paul's lively spirit.

*The Keys of tbe Kingdom of Heaven and Power thereof,
according to the word of God. by that Learned and Judicious
Divine, Mr. John Cotton, Teacher of the Church at Boston, in
New England, tending to reconcile some present differences
about discipline, was published in London in 1644. with a pre-
liminary address to the Reader, by Thomas Goodwin and
Philip Nye. members of the .Westminster Assembly. It was
reprinted by Tappan & Dennet, Boston, 1843.

22

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAS' LITERATURE.

Prudent in rule, in argument quick, full ;
Fervent in prayer, in preaching powerful ;
That well did learned Ames record bear,
The like to him he never wont to hear.

'Twas of Geneva's worthies said, with wonder,
(Those worthies three) Farell was wont to thunder ;
Viret, like rain, on tender grass to shower;
But Calvin, lively oracles to pour.

All these in Hooker's spirit did remain,
A son of thunder, and a shower of rain,
A pourer forth of lively oracles,
In saving souls, the sum of miracles.

Now blessed Hooker, thou art set on high,
Above the thankless world, and cloudy sky;
Do thou of all thy labour reap the crown,
Whilst we here reap the seed which thou hast sown.

to which we may add from John Norton's life,
"A taste of the Divine Soliloquies between God
and his Soul, from these two transcribed poems
left behind him in his study, written with his own
hand. The one entituled thus,"' —

A THANKFUL ACKNOWLEDGMENT OF GOD'S PEOVTDENCE.

In mother's womb thy fingers did me make
And from the womb thou didst me safely take :
From breast thou hast me nurst my life throughout,
That I may say I never wanted ought.

In all my meals my table thou hast spread,
In all my lodgings thou hast made my bed :
Thou hast me clad with changes of array,
And chang'd my house for better far away.

In youthful wandrings thou didst stay my slide,
In all my jouruies thou hast been my Guide:
Thou hast me sav'd from many an unknown danger,
And shew'd me favour, even where I was a stranger.

In both my callings thou hast heard my voice,
In both my matches thou hast made my choice:
Thou gav'st me sons, and daughters, them to peer,
And giv'st me hope thou'lt learn them thee to fear.

Oft have I seen thee look with Mercy's face,

And through thy Christ have felt thy saving grace.

This is the Heav'n on Earth, if any be :

For this, and all, my soul doth worship Thee.

"Another poem, made by Mr. Cotton (as it
seemeth), upon his removal from Boston to this
wilderness :"

I now may expect some changes of miseries,

Since God hath made me sure
That himself by them all will purge mine iniquities,

As fire makes silver pure.

Then what though I find the deep deceitfuluess

Of a distrustful heart!
Tet I know with the Lord is abundant faithfulness,

He will uot lose his part.

When I think of the sweet and gracious company

That at Boston once I had,
And of the long peace of a fruitful Ministry

For twenty years enjoy'd :

The joy that I found in all that happiness

Doth still so much refresh me,
That the grief to be cast out into a wilderness

Doth not so much distress me.

For when God saw his people, his own at our town,

That together they could not hit it,
But that they had learned the language of Askelon,

And one with another could chip it.

He then saw it time to send in a busy Elf,

A Joyner to take them asunder,
That so they might learn each one to deny himself,

And so to peece together.

When the breach of their bridges, and all their
banks arow,
And of him that school teaches;
When the breach of the Plague, and of their Trade
also
Could not learn them to see their breaches.

Then God saw it time to break out on their Minis-
ters,

By loss of health and peace ;
Tea, withall to break in upon their Magistrates,

That so their pride might cease.

Cotton Mather has written his life in the
Magnalia, with great unction and many puns.
" If Boston," says he, " be the chief seat of New
England, it was Cotton that was the father
and glory of Boston," in compliment, by the way,
to whose Lincolnshire residence the city was
named, and he celebrates the divines who came
with him in the ship from England : — " Mr. Cot-
ton, Mr. Hooker, and Mr. Stone, which glorious
triumvirate coming together, made the poor peo-
ple in the wilderness, at their coming, to say, that
the God of heaven had supplied them with what
would in some sort answer their three great
necessities: Cotton for their clothing, Hooker
for their fishing, and Stone for their building.'"

One of Mather's conceits in this " Life" is worthy
of Dr. Fuller ; it has a fine touch of imagination.
"Another time, when Mr. Cotton had modestly
replied unto one that would much talk and crack
of his insight into the Revelations ; " Brother, I
must confess myself to want light in those mys-
teries :" — the man went home and sent him a
pound of candles ; upon which action this good
man bestowed only a silent smile. He would not
set the beacon of his great soul on fire at the land-
ing of such a little cocJcboat."

Mather quotes the funeral eulogy on Cotton
written by Benjamin Woodbridge,* the first gradu-
ate of Harvard, which was probably read by
Franklin before he wrote the famous typographi-
cal epitaph on himself :

A living, breathing Bible ; tables where
Both covenants, at large, engraven were;
Gospel and law, in's heart, had each its column ;
His head an index to the sacred volume ;
His very name a title-page ; and next,
His life a commentary on the text.
0, what a monument of glorious worth,
When, in a new edition, he comes forth,
Without erratas, may we think he'll be
In leaves and covers of eternity !

It was to Cotton New England was indebted
for the custom of commencing the Sabbath on
Saturday evening. " The Sabbath," says Mather,
"he began the evening before: for which keep-
ing of the Sabbath, from evening to evening, he
wrote arguments before coming to New England :

* The- Rev. Benjamin Woodbridge, the first graduate from
Harvard College (1642), was born in 1622. He returned to Eng-
land and preached at Newbury, Berks, with reputation as a
scholar and orator. In 1662 he was ejected, but by particular
favor of the king, by whom he was highly esteemed, was al-
lowed to preach privately. He died at Inglefield, Berks, 16S4.
A few of his sermons were published.

JOHN COTTON.

23

and, I suppose, 'twas from his reason and practice
that the Christians of New England have gene-
rally done so too."

The life of Cotton was also written by his succes-
sor in the Church at Boston, John Norton", an
English curate, who came to America and was set-
fled as the colleague of Ward at Ipswich. While
at the latter place, he acquired distinguished litera-
ry reputation by the elegant latinity of his Answer
. to Apollonius, the pastor of the Church in Mid-
dlebury, who, at the request of the divines of
Zealand, had sent over various questions on
Church Government to the clergy of New Eng-
land. Of this work, published in London in
164S, Dr. Thomas Fuller, that warm appreciator
of character, says in his Church h^tory,* of his
inquiries into the tenets of the Congregatioualists,
" that of all the authors I have perused concern-
ing the opinions of these Dissenting Brethren,
none to me was more informative than Mr. John
Norton (one of no less learning than modesty),
minister in New England, in his answer to Apol-
lonius." Norton, in his services to the state, was
charged with a delicate commission from the Pu-
ritans of New England to address bis Majesty
Charles II. on the Restoration. He died suddenly
in 1663, shortly after his return from this em-
bassy.

Norton's Life and Death of that deservedly
famous Man of God, Mr. John Cotton^ shows a
scholar's pen as well as the emotion of the divine,
and the warm heart of the friend. It abounds
with those quaint learned illustrations which
those old preachers knew how to employ so well,
and which contrast so favorably with the gene-
rally meagre style of the pulpit of the present day.
Thus, in introducing Cotton on the stage of life,
be treats us to a quaint and poetical essay on
youthful education. " Though vain man would
be wise, yet may he be compared to the cub, as
well as the wild asses' colt. Now we know the
bear when she bringeth forth her young ones,
they are an ill favored lump, a mass without
shape, but by continual licking, they are brought
to some form. Children are called infants of the
palms (Lam. ii. 20), or educations, not because
they are but a span in length, but because the
midwife, as soon as they are born, stretcheth out
their joints with her hand, that they may be more
straight afterwards." A conceit is not to be re-
jected by these old writers, come from what
quarter it may ; as George Herbert says —

All things are big with jest: nothing that's plain
But may be witty, if thou hast the vein.

Here is something in another way : " Three in-
gredients Aristotle requires to complete a man,
an innate excellency of wit, instruction, and
government ; the two first we have by nature, in
them man is instrumental ; the first we have by
nature more immediately from God. This native
aptitude of mind, which is indeed a peculiar gift
of God, the naturabst calls the sparklings and

* Book xi. sec. 51, 2.

t Abel being dead yet speaketh ; or the Life and Death of
that deservedly famous man of God, Mr. John Cotton, late
teacher of the Church of Christ, at Boston, in New England.
By John Norton, teacher of the same church. London : Tho.
Newcomb. 1658. 4to. pp. 51. This work is dated by the
author, Boston, Nov. 6, 1657.

seeds of virtue, and looks at them as the prin-
ciples and foundations of better education. These
the godly-wise advise such to whom the inspec-
tion of youth is committed, to attend to, as spring
masters were wont to male a trial of tlie virtue
latent in waters, by the morning vapors that
ascend from them;" and in a marginal reference
be quotes Clemens Alexandrinus, " Animi nostri
sunt agi-i animatiy " Idleness in youth," he
says, " is scarcely healed without a scar in age."
When be arrives at Cotton's distinguished college
years, be has this picture of a student's bfe.

He is now in the place of improvement, amongst
his KpaniWot, beset with examples, as so many objects
of better emulation. If he slacken his pace, his
compeers will leave him behind ; and though he
quicken it, there are still those which are before.
Notwithstanding Themistocles excelleth, yet the tro-
phies of MUtiades suffer him not to sleep. Cato,
that Hclluo, that devourer of books, is at Athens.
Ability and opportunity are now met together;
unto both which industry actuated with a desire to
know, being joined, bespeaks a person of high ex-
pectation. The unwearied pains of ambitious and
unquiet wits, are amongst the arrangements of ages.
Asia and Egypt can hold the seven wonders ; but
the books, works, and motions of ambitious minds,
the whole world cannot contain. It was an illicit
aspiring after knowledge, which helped to put forth
Eve's hand unto the forbidden fruit : the less mar-
vel if irregenerate and unelevated wits have placed
their summum bonum in knowledge, indefatigably
pursuing it as a kind of deity, as a thing ruinous,
yea, as a kind of mortal-immortality. Diogenes,
Democritus, and other philosophers, accounting large
estates to be an impediment to their proficiency in
knowledge, dispossessed themselves of rich inherit-
ances, that they might be the fitter students ; pre-
ferring an opportunity of study before a large patri-
mony. Junius, yet ignorant of Christ, can want Ins
country, necessaries, and many comforts; but he
must excel. " Through desire a man having sepa-
rated himself, seeketh and intermeldleth with all
wisdom," Prov. xviii. 1. The elder Plinius lost his
life in venturing too near to search the cause of the
irruption of the hill Vesuvius. It is true, knowledge
excelleth other created excellences, as much as life
excelleth darkness; yet it agreeth with them in
this, that neither can exempt the subject thereof
from eternal misery. Whilst we seek knowledge
with a selfish interest, we serve the decree ; and
self being destroyed according to the decree, we
hence become more able to serve the command.

Cotton was on one occasion a correspondent of
Cromwell, on an appbeation in 1651 for the en-
couragement of the Gospel in New England.
The reply of the Lord Protector — For my esteemed
Friend, Mr. Cotton, Pastor of the Church at Bos-
ton, in New England : These — is characteristic of
his bewildered dogmatic godliness. " What is the
Lord adoing ? What prophecies are now fulfilling?
Indeed, my dear Friend, between you and me,
you know not me," and the like. Carlyle, in his
Oliver Cromwell, has printed the letter and pre-
faced it with this recognition of the old divine —
" Reverend John Cotton is a man still held in
some remembrance among our New England
Friends. A painful Preacher, oracular of high
Gospels to New England ; who in his day was
well seen to be connected with the Supreme Pow-
ers of this Universe, the word of him being as a

24

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

live-coal to the hearts of many. lie died some
years afterwards ; — was thought, especially on
his deathbed, to have manifested gifts even of
Prophecj', — -a thing not inconceivable to the
human mind that well considers Prophecy and
John Cotton."*

THOMAS HOOKEE.

7T U^

fc^.

Thomas Hookee was born at Marfield, Leices-
tershire, in 1586. He was educated at Cam-
bridge, became a fellow of Emanuel college, and,
on leaving the university, a popular preacher
in London. In 1626 he removed to Chelms-
ford, Essex. After officiating as "lecturer" for
four years in this place, in consequence of non-
conformity with the established church he was
obliged to discontinue preaching, and, by request,
opened a school, in which he employed John
Eliot, afterwards the Apostle to the Indians, as
his usher. He not long after went over to Hol-
land, where he remained three years, preaching
at Amsterdam and Rotterdam. He then emi-
grated to Massachusetts, arriving at Boston, with
Mr. Cotton and Mr. Stone, Sept, 4, 1633, and be-
came the pastor of the congregation at Newtown,
or Cambridge, with Mr. Stone as his assistant.
" Such multitudes," says Cotton Mather, " flocked
over to New England after them that the planta-
tion of Newtown became too straight for them,"
and in consequence Hooker, with one hundred of
his followers, penetrated through the wilderness
to the banks of the Connecticut, where they
founded Hartford. A difference of opinion on
minor points of church government with his
clerical associates had its share in effecting this
removal. Neither distance nor difference, how-
ever, led to any suspension of friendly intercourse,
Hooker occasionally visiting and preaching in
Massachusetts Bay, where he was always re-
ceived by admiring crowds.

"With the exception of these visits, the remain-
der of his life was spent at the colony he had
founded. He enjoyed throughout his career a
great reputation as a pulpit orator, and several
stories are told by Mather of wonders wrought
by his prayers and sennons. On one occasion,
while preaching in " the great church of Leices-
ter (England), one of the chief burgesses in the
town much opposed his preaching there; and
when he could not prevail to hinder it, he set
certain fidlers at work to disturb him in the
church porch or churchyard. But such was the
vivacity of Mr. Hooker, as to proceed in what he
was about, without either the damping of his
mind or the drowning of his voice ; whereupon
the man himself went unto the church door to
overhear what he said," with such good result
that he begged pardon for his offence, and became
a devout Christian. His bearing was so dignified
that it was said of him, "he coidd put a king in
his pocket."

His charities were as liberal as his endowments.

* Oliver Cromwell's Letters and Speeches, with Elucidations,
i. 8.

He frequently bestowed large sums on widows
and orphans, and on one occasion when there
was a scarcity at Southampton, on Long Island,
joined with a few others in despatching "a whole
bark's load of corn of many hundred bushels " to
the relief of the place.

I

Hooker's Residence at Hartford.

"He would say," remarks Mather, "that he
should esteem it a favor from God, if he might
live no longer than he should be able to hold up
lively in the work of his place ; and that when
the time of his departure should come, God would
shorten the time, and he had his desire." A few
days' illness brought him to his deathbed. His
last words were in reply to one who said to him,
" Sir, you are going to receive the reward of all
your labors," " Brother, I am going to receive
mercy." A little after he closed his eyes with
his own hands, " and expired his blessed sold into
the arms of his fellow-servants, the holy angels;"
on July 7, 1647.

Two hundred of his manuscript sermons were
sent to England by John Higginson, the minister
of Salem, himself a man of some literature, who
died in 1708, at the extreme age of ninety-two
years, seventy-two of which he had passed in the
ministry.* Nearly one hundred of these sermons
were published ; and he was also the author of
several tracts, and of a Survey of the Sum of
Cliurch Discipline, which was published in Lon-
don, 1648, under the care of Dr. Thomas Good-
win, who declares that to praise either author or
work, " were to lay paint upon burnished marble,
or add light unto the sun."t

The Application of Redemptionoy tlie Effectual
Work of the Word and Spirit of Christ, for the
Bringing Home of Lost Sinners to God, which
was printed from the author's papers, written
with his own hand, and attested to be such in an
epistle by Thomas Goodwin and Philip Nye, had
reached a second edition in London in 1659. It

* His associate at Salem. Nicholas Noyes, wrote an elegy on
him, in which he says quaintly :

For rich array cared not a fig,
And wore Elisha's periwig.
At ninety-three had comely face,
Adorned with majesty and grace."
Before he went among the dead.
He children's children's children had.
Noyes published an Election Sermon, 1698 ; a poem on the
Death of Joseph Green, of Salem. 1715: and appears among
the commendatory poets of the Magnalia. — Allen's Biog. Diet
t Allen's Biog. Diet.

JOHN WINTHROP.

25

is a compact small quarto of seven hundred pages,
exhibiting his practical divinity in the best man-
ner of the Puritan school. One of his most popu-
lar works was The Poor Doubting Christian
drawn to Christ ; a seventh edition was pub-
lished in Boston, 1743.

FROM TIIE APPLICATION OF REDEMPTION.

Follow sin by the fruits of it, as by the bloody
footsteps, and see what havoc it makes in every
place wherever it eoines: go to the prisons, and see
so many malefactors in irons, so many witches in
the dungeon ; these are the fruits of sin ; look aside,
and there you shall see one drawn out of the pit
where he was drowned; cast your eye but hard by,
and behold another lying weltering in his blood, the
knife in his throat, and his hand at the knife, and
his own hands become his executioner; thence go to
the place of execution, and there you 6hall hear
many prodigal and rebellious children and servants
upon the ladder, leaving the last remembrance of
their untimely death, which their distempers have
brought about. I was born in a good place where
the gospel was preached with plainness and power,
lived under godly masters and religious parents; a
holy and tender-hearted mother I had, many prayers
she made, tears she wept for me, and those have met
me often in the dark in my dissolute courses, but I
never had a heart to hear and receive. All you
stubborn and rebellious, hear and fear, and learn by
my harms; hasten from theuce into the wilderness,
and see Corah, Dathan, and Abiram going down
quick to hell, and all the people flying and crying
lest we perish also ; Lo, this rebellion hath brought ;
Turn aside but to the Red sea, and behold all the
Egyptians dead upon the shore; and ask who slew
them? and the story will tell you a stubborn heart
was the cause of their direful confusion : From
thence send your thoughts to the cross where our
Saviour was crucified, he who bears up heaven and
earth with his power, and behold those bitter and
brinish tears, and hideous' cries, My God, my God,
why hast Thou forsaken me? And make but a peep-
hole into hell, and lay your ear and listen to those
veilings of the devils and damned, cursing the day
that ever they were born, the means that ever they
enjoyed, the mercies that ever they did receive, the
worm there gnawing, and never dies, the fire there
burning, and never goes out, and know this sin hath
done, and it will do so to all that love it and live in
it.

FROM THE DOUBTING CHRISTIAN DRAWN TO CHRIST.

Many a poor soul mourns and cries to heaven for
mercy, and prays against a stubborn, hard heart,
and is weary of his life, because this vile heart
remains yet in him; and yet haply gets little or no
redress. The reason is, and the main wound lies
here, he goes the wrong way to work ; for, he that
would have grace must (first of all) get Faith, Faith
will bring all the rest : buy the field and the pearl
is thine; it goes with the purchase. Thou must
not think with thine own struggling to get the mas-
tery of a proud heart; for that will not do: Dut let
thy faith go first to Christ, and try what that can
do. There are many graces necessary in this work ;
as meekness, patience, humility, and wisdom: Now
faith will fetch all these, and possess the soul of
them. Brethren, therefore if you set any price upon
these graces, buy the field, labor for faith ; get that
and you get all. The apostle saith, 2 Cor. iii. 18:
We all with open face beholding, as in a glass, the
glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image,
from glory to glory. The Lord Christ is the glass,
and the glorious grace of God in Christ, is that

glory of the Lord : Therefore, first behold this grace
in Christ by faith (and thou must do so before thou
canst receive grace). First, see humility in Christ,
and then fetch it thence: First see strength and
courage in him, whereby to enable thy weak heart,
and strength will come ; there fetch it, and there
have it. Would you then have a meek, gracious,
and humble heart? I dare say for some of you that
you had rather have it than anything under heaven,
and would think it the best bargain that ever you
made ; which is the cause why you say, " Oh, that
I could once see that day, that this proud heart of
mine might be humbled : Oh, if I could see the last
blood of my sins, I should then think myself happy,
none more, and desire to live no longer." But is
this thy desire, poor soul? Then get faith, and so
buy the whole, for they all go together: Nor think
to have them upon any price, not having faith. I
mean patience, and meekness, and the humble
heart: But buy faith, the field, and you have the
pearl. Further, would you have the glory of God
in your eye, and be more heavenly minded? Then
look to it, and get it by the eye of faith : Look up
to it in the face of Jesus Christ, and then you shall
see it; and then hold you there: For there, and
there only, this vision of the glory of God is to be
seen, to your everlasting peace and endless condbrt.
AVhen men use to make a purchase, they speak of
all the commodities of it, as, there is so much
wood, worth so much ; and so much stock, worth so
much; and then they offer for the whole, answer-
able to these severals, So here; there is item for
an heavenly mind, and that's worth thousands; and,
item for an humble heart, and that's worth millions:
and so for the rest. And are those graces so much
worth? What is faith worth then ? Hence we may
conclude and say, Oh, precious faith! precious in-
deed, that is able, through the spirit of Christ, to
bring so many, nay, all graces with it: As one de-
gree of grace after another, grace here and happi-
ness for ever hereafter. If we have but the hearts
of men (I do not say of Christians) me thinks this
that is spoken of faith should provoke us to labor
always, above all things, for this blessed grace of
God, the grace of faith.

JOHN WINTHROP,

TrrE first Governor of Massachusetts, was de-
scended from a highly honorable English family,
and born at the family seat at Groton, county
of Suffolk, January 12, 1587.* His father, Adam
Winthrop, was an accomplished lawyer; and the
following, from his pen, reprinted in the Massa-
chusetts Historical Society Collections, shows him
to have been possessed of poetic feeling.

VERSES MADE TO THE LADIE MILDMAY AT YE BIRTH OF HER
SONNE HENERY.

Madame: I mourn not like the swan
That ready is to die,
But with the Phoenix I rejoice,
When she in fire doth fry.

My soul doth praise the Lord,

And magnify his name.
For this sweet child which in your womb

He did most finely frame.

And on a blessed day

Hath made him to be born,
That with his gifts of heavenly grace,

His soul he might adorn.

* Mather (Magnalin, Ed. 1^53, i- 119) has it June, and Is fol-
lowed by Eliot January is the true date from the family
record.

26

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

God grant him happy days,
In joy and peace to live,

And more of his most blessed fruit
He unto you do give.

Amen.

VEIISES TO HER SON.

Ah, me ! what do I mean
To take my pen in hand ?

More meet it were for me to rest,
And silent still to stand.

For pleasure take I none

In any worldly thing,
But evermore methinks I hear

My fatal bell to ring.

Yet when the joyful news

Did come unto my ear,
That God had given to her a so;),

Who is my nephew dear,

My heart was filled with joy,

My spirits revived all,
And from my old and barren brain

These verses rude did fall

Welcome, sweet babe, thou art

Unto thy parents dear,
Whose hearts thou filled hast with joy,

As well it doth appear.

The day even of thy birth,

When light thou first didst see,

Foresheweth that a joyful life
Shall happen unto thee.

For blessed is that day,

And to be kept in mind ;
On which our Saviour Jesus Christ

Was born to save mankind.

Grow up, therefore, in grace,

And fear his holy name,
Who in thy mother's secret womb

Thy members all did frame,

And gave to thee a soul,

Thy body to sustain,
Which, when this life shall ended be,

In heaven with him shall reign.

Love him with all thy heart,
And make thy parents glad,

As Samuel did, whom of the Lord
His mother Anna had.

God grant that they may live

To see from thee to spring
Another like unto thyself,

Who may more joy them bring.

And from all wicked ways,

That godless men do trace,
Pray daily that he will thee keep

By his most mighty grace.

That when thy days shall end,

In his appointed time
Thou mayest yield up a blessed soul,

Defiled with no crime.

And to thy mother dear

Obedient be, and kind;
Give ear unto her loving word3,

And print them in thy mind.

Thy father also love,
And willingly obey,

That thou mayst long possess those lands
Which he must leave one day.*

The son was, though inclined to the study of
theology, also bred to the law, and at the early
age of eighteen was made a justice of the peace.
He discharged the duties of this responsible post
in an exemplary manner, and in his private
capacity was celebrated for his piety and hospi-
tality.

Usypl4?

S?o,

He was chosen leader of the colony formed
in England to proceed to Massachusetts Bay,
and, having converted an estate yielding an in-
come of six or seven hundred pounds into
cash, left England, and landed at Salem, June
12, 1630. Within five days he made, with a few
companions, a journey of twenty miles through
the forest, which resulted in the selection of the
peninsula of Shawmut as the site of Boston.
During the first winter, the colonists suffered
severely from cold and hunger. The Governor
endured his share of privation with the rest, liv-
ing on acorns, ground-nuts, and shellfish. He
devoted himself with unsparing assiduity to the
good of the commonwealth, and was annually
elected Governor until 1634, and afterwards from
1637 to 1640, 1642 to 1644, and 1648 to his
death, which occurred in consequence of a cold,
followed by a fever, March 26, 1649. His ad-
ministration of the government was firm and
decided, and sometimes exposed him to tempo-
rary unpopularity. He bore opposition with
equanimity, and served the state as faithfully in
an inferior official or private position as when at
its head. He opposed the doctrines of Anne
Hutchinson and her followers, and was active in
their banishment, but at the same time used his
influence in the synod called to consider their
doctrines, in favor of calm discussion and cool
deliberation.

His private character was most amiable. On
one occasion, having received an angry letter,
he sent it back to the writer with the answer :
" I am not willing to keep by me such a matter
of provocation." Soon after, the scarcity of pro-
visions forced this person to send to buy one of
the Governor's cattle. ' He requested him to ac-
cept it as a gift, upon which the appeased oppo-
nent came to him, and said, "Sir, your overcoming
yourself hath overcome me."

During a severe winter, being told that a
neighbor was making free with his woodpile, he
sent for the offender, promising to "take a course
with him that should cure him of stealing." The
" course" was an announcement to the thief that he
was to help himself till the winter was over. It
was his practice to send his servants on errands
to his neighbors at meal times, to spy out the
nakedness of the land, for the benevolent purpose
of relieving them from his own table.

* These lines are preserved in a Miscellany of Poetry of the
time, now No. 1598 of the Harleian MSS. (British Museum).
Mass. Hist. Soc. Coll., Third Series, x. 152.

.JOHN WINTHROP.

27

Governor Winthrop left five sons, the eldest of
whom — John, born 12th February, 1605-C — was
the founder of the colony at Saybrook, and ob-
tained from Charles II. the charter of Connecti-
cut, of which colony he was annually elected
Governor for the fourteen years preceding his
death, April 5, 1676.

Governor Winthrop's house — -afterwards tenant-
ed by the historian Prince — remained standing
until 1775, when it was pulled down with many
others by the British troops, for firewood. A
piece of ground, first allotted to him in lajing out
the town of Boston, became the site of the Old
South Church*

Winthrop left a MS. Journal of the public oc-
currences in the Massachusetts colony from Easter
Monday, March 29, 1630, to Jan. 11, 1649, which
was consulted by Mather, Hubbard, and Prince.
The manuscript was divided into three parts, the
first two of which remained in the possession of
the family until the Revolution, when Governor
Trumbull procured them aud copied a large por-
tion of their contents. After the death of Tram-
bull, Noah Wehster, in 1790, with the consent
of the Winthrop family, published these, believ-
ing them to be the entire work, in an octavo
volume. In 1816, the third part was discovered
among a mass of " pamphlets and papers, where
it attracted instant notice by its fair parchment
binding, and the silken strings by which its covers
were tied, and the whole work perfectly pre-
served"t by Abiel Holmes, the author of Ameri-
can Annals. A transcript was made by Mr.
James Savage, who also collated the volume print-
ed in 1790 with the original volume, and pub-
lished the whole with many valuable notes from
his own hand in two volumes 8vo. in 1826, un-
der the title of " The History of New England
from 1630 to 1649." A new edition, with fresh
annotations by the same editor, has been issued
in 1853.

Winthrop is also the author of " A Modell of
Christian Charity, written on board the Arbella,
on the Atlantic Ocean," which has been printed
from the original MS. in the New York Histori-
cal Society in the Massachusetts Historical Socie-
ty's Collections.:]:

"We present two extracts, the first a passage of
his Journals, the second, part of a speech which
the Governor calls his " little speech," but which
Grahaine, in his History of the United States, has
cited as a remarkable definition of true liberty,
and which the Modern Universal History (vol.
xxxix. 291, 2) says, "is equal to anything of
antiquity, whether we consider it as coming from
a philosopher or a magistrate."

OF A FEW PERSONS WHO LEFT TOE COLONY IN 1042.

They fled for fear of want, and many of them fell
into it, even to extremity, as if they had hastened
into the misery which they feared and fled from,
besides the depriving themselves of the ordinances
and church fellowship, and those civil liberties
which they enjoyed here ; whereas, such as staid in
their places, kept their peace and ease, and enjoyed
still the blessing of the ordinances, and never tasted

* Holmes's Annuls, i. 291.

t Account in Mass. Hist. Soc. Coll., Second Series, iv. 21)0.

X Third Series, vii. 31.

of those troubles and miseries, which they heard to
have befallen those who departed. Much disputa-
tion there was about liberty of removing for out-
ward advantages, and all ways were sought for an
open door to get out at; but it is to be feared many
crept out at a broken wall. For such as come to-
gether into a wilderness, where are nothing but wild
beasts and beasts like men, aud there confederate
together in civil and church estate, whereby they
do, implicitly at least, bind themselves to support
each other, and all of thcrn that society, whether
civil or sacred, whereof they are members, how
they can break from this without free consent, is
hard to find, so as may satisfy a tender or good con-
science in time of trial. Ask thy conscience, if thou
wouldst have plucked up thy stakes, and brought
thy family 8O00 miles, if thou hadst expected that
all, or most, would have forsaken thee there? Ask
again, what liberty thou hast towards others, which
thou likest not to allow others towards thyself; for
if one may go, another hiay, aud so the greater
part: aud so church and commonwealth may be left
destitute in a wilderness, exposed to misery and re-
proach, and all for thy ease and pleasure, whereas
these all, being now thy brethren, as near to thee
as the Israelites were to Moses, it were much safer
for thee, after his example, to choose rather to suffer
affliction with thy brethren, than to enlarge thy
ease aud pleasure by furthering the occasion of their
ruin.

LIBERTY AND LAW.

From Gov. Winthrop's Speech to the Assembly of Massachvr
setts in llAo.

I am unwilling to stay you from your urgent
affairs, yet give me leave (upon this special occasion)
to speak a little more to this assembly. It may be
of some good use, to inform and rectify the judg-
ments of 6ome of the people, and may prevent such
distempers as have arisen amongst us. The great
questions that have troubled the country, are about
the authority of the magistrates and the liberty of
the people. It is yourselves who have called us to
this office, and being called by you, we have our
authority from God, in way of an ordinance, such
as hath the image of God eminently stamped upon
it, the contempt aud violation whereof hath been
vindicated with examples of divine vengeance. I
entreat you to consider, that when you choose
magistrates you take them from among yourselves,
men subject to like passions as you are. Therefore,
when you see infirmities in us, you should reflect
upon your own, and that would make you bear the
more with us, and not be severe eensurers of the
failings of your magistrates, when you have con-
tinual experience of the like infirmities in yourselves
and others. We account him a good servant, wdio
breaks not his covenant. The covenant between
you and us is the oath you have taken of us, which
is to this purpose, that we shall govern you and
judge your causes by the rules of God's laws and
our own, according to our best skill. When you
agree with a workman to build you a ship or a
house, Ac, lie undertakes as well for his skill as for
his faithfulness, for it is his profession, and you pay
him for both. But when you call one to be a magis-
trate, he doth not profess nor undertake to have
sufficient skill for that office, nor can you furnish
him with gifts, (fee, therefore you must run the
hazard of his skill and ability. But if he fail in
faithfulness, which by his oath he is bound unto,
that he must answer for. If it fall out that the case
be clear to common apprehension, and the rule clear
also, if he transgress here, the errour is not in the
skill, but in the evil of the will ; it must be required

23

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

of liim. But if tlie cause be doubtful, or the rule
doubtful, to men of such understanding and parts as
your magistrates are, if your magistrates should err
here, yourselves must bear it.

For the other point, concerning liberty, I observe
a great mistake in the country about that. There
is a two-fold liberty, natural (i mean as our nature
is now corrupt) and civil or federal. The first is com-
mon to man with beasts and other creatures. By
this man, as he stands in relation to man simply, hath
liberty to do what he lists; it is a liberty to evil as
well as to good. Tins liberty is incompatible and
inconsistent with authority, and cannot endure the
least restraint of the most just authority. The exer-
cise and maintaining of this liberty makes men
grow more evil, and in time to be worse than brute
beasts: omnes su?nus licantid detcrlorcs. Tins is that
great enemy of truth and peace, that wild beast,
"which all the ordinances of God are bent against, to
restrain and subdue it. The other kind of liberty I
call civil or federal, it may also be termed moral, in
reference to the covenant between God and Man, in
the moral law, and the political covenants and con-
stitutions, amongst men themselves. This liberty
is the proper end and object of authority, and can-
not subsist without it; and it is a liberty to that
only which is good, just, and honest. This liberty
you are to stand for, with the hazard (not only of
our goods, but) of your lives if need be.

THOMAS MORTON.

Tite readers of Nathaniel Hawthorn cannot fail
to remember "the May-pole of Merry Mount."
The sketch, in its leading features, is a faithful
presentation of a curious episode in the early
history of New England. It has been narrated
by the chief actor in the scene, " Mine Host of
Ma-re Mount" himself, and his first telling of the
" twice told tale" is well worth the hearing.

Thomas Morton, " of Clifford's Inn, gent.,"
came to Plymouth in 1G23, with "Weston's party.
Many of these returned the following year, and
the remainder were scattered about the settle-
ments. Our barrister says that they were very
popular with the original settlers as long as their
liquors lasted, and were turned adrift afterwards.
Be that as it may, he remained in the country,
and we hear of him a few years afterwards as
one of the company of Captain Wollaston who
came to America in 1625. Wollaston appears
to have had a set of fellows similar to those of
Weston. He carried a portion of them off to
Virginia, leaving the remainder in charge of one
Filcher, to await the summons to Virginia also.
Morton was one of these, and persuaded his com-
panions to drive away Filcher, place themselves
nnder his leadership, and found a settlement at
Mount Wollaston. This he effected, and he
henceforward speaks of himself as "mine host of
Ma-re Mount." Here he set up a May-pole — but
we shall allow him to be his own narrator.

The inhabitants of Pasonagessit (having trans-
lated the name of their habitation from that ancient
savnge name to Ma-re Mount; and being resolved
to have the new name confirmed for a memorial to
after ages), did devise amongst themselves to have I
it performed in a solemn manner with Revels and
merriment after the old English custom, prepared to
set lip a May-pole upon the festival day of Philip
and Jacob ; and therefore brewed a barrel of ex-
cellent beer, and provided a case of bottles to be
spent, with other good cheer, for all comers of that

day. And because they would have it in a Complete
form, they had prepared a song fitting to the time
and present occasion. And upon May-day they
brought the May-pole to the place appointed, with
drums, guns, pistols, and other fitting instruments,
for that purpose ; and there erected it with-the help
of salvages, that came thither of purpose to see the
manner of our Revels. A goodly pine tree of 80
feet long, was reared up, with a pair of buck-horns
nailed on, somewhat near unto the top of it ; where
it stood as a fair sea mark for directions ; how to
find out the way to mine Host of Ma-re Mount.
* * * *

There was likewise a merry song made, which
(to make their Revels more fashionable) was sung
with a eorus, every man bearing his part ; which
they performed in a dance, hand in hand about the
May-pole, whiles one of the company sung, and
filled out the good liquor like gammedes and Jupiter.

Drink and be merry, merry, 11161x71)073,
Let all your delight be in Hymen's joys,
Io to II_ymen now the day is come.
About the merry May-pole take a roome.

Make green garlons, bring bottles out;
And fill sweet Nectar freely about.
Uncover thy head, and fear no harm,
For here's good liquor to keep it warm.

Then drink and be merry, &c.

Io to Hymen, &c.

Nectar is a thing assign 'd,

By the Deities own mind,

To cure the heart opprest with grief,

And of good liquors is the chief.

Then drink, &c.

Io to Hymen, &c.

Give to the Melancholy man,
A cup or two of 't now and than,
This physic will soon revive his blood,
And make him be of a merrier mood.

Then drink, &c.

Io to Hymen, &c

Give to the nymph that's free from scorn,
No Irish stuff, nor Scotch over worn ;
Lasses in beaver coats come away,
Ye shall be welcome to us night and day.

To drink and be merry, &c.

Io to Hymen, &c

This harmless mirth made by young men (that
lived in hope to have wives brought over to them,
that would save them a labour to make a voyage
to fetch any over) was much distasted of the precise
Separatists ; that keep much ado, about the tithe of
mint and cummin, troubling their brains more than
reason would require about things that are in-
different ; and from that time sought occasion against
my honest Host of Ma-re Mount to overthrow his
undertakings, and to destroy his plantation quite and
clear.

Such proceedings of course caused great scan-
dal to the Plymouth colonist. Nathaniel Morton,
the first chronicler of the colony, thus describes
the affair.

After this (the expulsion of Filcher) they fell to
great licentiousness of life, in all profaneness, and the
said Morton became lord of misrule, and maintained
as it were, a school of Atheism, and after they had
got some goods into their hands, and got much by
trading with the Indians, they spent it as vainly in
quaffing and drinking both wine and strong liquors
in great excess, as some have reported ten pounds
worth in a morning, setting up a May-pole, drink-
ing, and dancing about it, and frisking about it like
so many faries, or furies rather, yea and worse

Eractices, as if they had anew revived and cele-
rated the feast of the Roman goddess Flora, or the
beastly practices of the mad Bacchanalians.

THOMAS MORTON.

29

Morton was also charged, and it appears justly,
with employing the Indians to hunt for him, fur-
nishing them with, and instructing them in the
.use of, firearms for that purpose. The colonists,
"fearing that they should get a blow thereby;
also, taking notice' that if he were let alone in his
"way, they should keep no servants for him,
because he*vould entertain any, how vile soever,"*
met together, and after remonstrating with him
to no effect, obtained from the governor of Ply-
mouth the aid of Captain Miles Standish to
arrest him. Morton was taken prisoner, but,
according to his own story, which he makes an
amusing one, effected his escape :

Much rejoicing was made that they had gotten
their capital enemy (as they concluded him), whom
they purposed to hamper in such sort that he should
not be able to uphold his plantation at Ma-re Mount.

The conspirators sported themselves at my honest
host, that meant them no hurt; and were so jocund
that they feasted their bodies and fell to tippeliag,
as if they had obtained a great prize ; like the
Trojans when they had the custody of Hippeus'
pine tree horse.

Mine host feigned grief, and could not be per-
suaded either to eat or drink, because he knew
emptiness would be a means to make him as watch-
ful as the geese kept in the Roman eapitol ; whereon
the contrary part, the • conspirators would be so
drowsy, that he might have an opportunity to give
them a slip instead of tester. Six persons of the
conspiracy were set to watch him at Wessaguscus,
but lie kept waking, and in the dead of night (one
lying on the bed for further surety) up gets mine
host a'nd got to the second door that he was to pass,
which (notwithstanding the look) he got open; and
shut it after him with such violence that it affrighted
some of the conspirators.

The word which was given with an alarm was,
0, he's gone, he's gone, what shall we do, he's
gone ! The rest, half asleep, start up in a maze,
and, like rams, run their heads one at another, full
butt, in the dark.

Their grand leafier, Captain Shrimp, took on most
furiously, and tore his clothes for anger, to see the
empty nest and their bird gone.

The rest were eager to have torn their hair from
their heads, but it was so Bhort that it would give
them no hold.

He returned to Ma-re Mount, where he soon
afterwards surrendered, and was sent to England,
coming back the next year to his old quarters,
which during his absence had been visited by
Endicott, who caused the may-pole to be cut
down, "and the name of the place was again
changed and called Dagon.''t The year following
his return his house was searched on the charge
of his having corn belonging to other persons in
it.

After they had feasted their bodies witli that they
found there, carried all his corn away, with some
other of his goods, contrary to the laws of hospi-
tality, a small parcel of refuse corn only excepted,
which they left mine host to keep Christmas with.
But when they were goue, mine host fell to make
use of his gun (as one that had a good faculty in
the use of that instrument) and feasted his body
nevertheless with fowl and venison, which he pur-
chased with the help of that instrument ; the plenty

* New England's Memorial.

t Ibid.

of the country and the commodiousness of the
place affording means, by the blessing of God; and
he did but deride Captain Littleworth, that made
his servants snap short in a country so much abound-
ing with plenty of food for an industrious man, with
great variety.

Soon after Governor Winthrop's arrival, in 1630,
he was again arrested, convicted, and sent to Eng-
land, where he arrived, he says, "so metamor-
phosed with a long voyage, that he looked like
Lazarus in the painted cloth.''*

His book,t from which our extracts are taken,
bears date, Amsterdam, 1637. It was probably
printed in London, this device being often resort-
ed to at the time, with works of a libellous or
objectionable character. "With perseverance wor-
thy of a better cause, he returned to New Eng-
land, in 1643, and was arrested and imprisoned
in Boston a year, on account of his book. His
advanced age only, it is said, saved him from the
whipping-post. He died in poverty, in 1616, at
Agamenticus. His book shows facility in com-
_position, and not a little humor. Butler appears
to have derived one of the stories in Hudibras
from it.

Our brethren of New England use
Choice malefactors to excuse,
And hang the guiltless in their stead;
Of whom the churches have less need,
As lately 't happened : in a town
There liv'd a cobbler, and but one,
That out of doctrine could cut use,
And mend men's lives as well as shoes.
This precious brother having slain,
In time uf peace, an Indian,
Not out of malice, but mere zeal,
Because he was an infidel,
The mighty Tottipottimoy
Sent to our elders an envoy,
Complaining sorety of the breach
Of league, beld forth by brother Patch,
Against the articles in force
Between both churches, his and ours ;
For which he crav'd the saints to render
Into his hands or hang the offender :
But they maturely having weigh'd
They had no more but him o' the trade,
A man that serv'd them in a double
Capacity, to teach and cobble,
Resolv'd to spare him ; yet to do
The Indian Hogau Moghan too
Impartial justice, in his stead did
Hang an old weaver that was bed-rid :\

* A common colloquial phrase of the period. It is used by
FalstafT (a character somewhat akin to mine host) in the first
part of Henry IV. ''Ragged as Lazarus in the painted cloth."
The painted cloth was used, like tapestry, for covering and
decorating the walls of apartments.

+ New English Canaan, or New Canaan, containing an
abstract of New Eng'and, composed in three Bookes. The first
Booke, setting forth the original! of the Natives, their Manners
and Customs, together witli their tractable Nature and Love
towards the English. The second Booke, setting forth the
naturall Indowmenls of the Country, and what staple Com-
modities it yealdeth. The third Booke, setting forth what
people are planted there, their prosperity, what remarkab'o
accidents have happened since the first planting of it, together
with their Tenents and practise of their Church. Written
by Thomas Morton, of Clifford's Inne, gent., upon tenne yeares'
knowledge and experiment of the Country.

Printed at Amsterdam, By Jacob Frederick Stam, in the
yeare 1G37.

The original edition of his "New England's Canaan" is ex-
tremely scarce. We are indebted for the use of a copy to the
valuable American collection of the Rev. Dr. Hawks. It is
reprinted in Col. Force's Historical Tracts.

t Hudibras, Part II., Canto II. 409-430.

30

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

A young man, as Morton's story goes, was ar-
rested for stealing corn from an Indian, and the
following mode of dealing with the case was pro-
posed by one of the general assembly of the com-
munity called to adjudge punishment. Says he :
" You all agree that one must die, and one shall
die. This young man's clothes we will take off,
and put upon one that is old and impotent; a
sickly person that cannot escape death ; such is
the disease on him confirmed, that die he must.
Put the young man's clothes on this man, and let
the sick person he hanged in the other's stead.
Amen, says one, and so says many more."

A large portion of the volume is devoted to the
aborigines and the natural features of the country.
He thus expatiates on his first impressions :

And whiles our houses were building, I did en-
deavor to take a survey of the country ; the more
I looked, the more I liked it. When I had more
seriously considered of the beauty of the place, with
all her fair endowments, I did not think that, in all
the known world, it could be paralleled. For so
many goodly groves of trees ; dainty, fine, rounds
rising hillocks ; delicate, fair, large plains ; sweet
crystal fountains, and clear running streams, that
twine in fine meanders through the meads, making
so sweet a murmuring noise to hear, as would even
lull the senses with delight asleep, so pleasantly
do they glide upon the pebble stones, jetting most
jocundly where they do meet, and hand in hand
run down to Neptune's court, to pay the yearly tri-
bute which they owe to him as sovereign lord of all
the springs. Contained within the volume of the
land, fowls in abundance; fish in multitude; and
discovered besides, millions of turtle doves on the
green boughs, which sate pecking of the full, ripe,
pleasant grapes, that were supported by the lusty
trees, whose fruitful load did cause the arms to bend,
while here and there despersed, you might see lillies,
and of the Daphnean tree, which made the land to
me seem paradise, for in mine eye it was Nature's
masterpiece, her chiefest magazine of all, where fives
her store. If this land be not rich, then is the whole
world poor.

He is amusingly at fault in his natural history.
The beaver, he says, sits " in his house built on
the water, with his tayle hanging in the water,
which else would over-heate and rot off." An-
other marvel is, " a curious bird to see to, called
a humming-bird, no bigger than a great beetle ;
that out of question lives upon the bee, which he
catcheth and eateth amongst Flowers ; for it is his
custom to frequent those places. Flowers he can-
not feed upon by reason of his sharp bill, which
is like the point of a Spannish needle but short."

WILLIAM BRADFORD.

William Bradford was born at Ansterfield, in
the north of England, in 1588. He was educated
as a farmer, and inherited a large patrimony.
Embracing at an early age the tenets of the Puri-
tans, he connected himself with the congregation
of the celebrated John Robinson, and at the age
of nineteen, after two unsuccessful attempts, joined
his associates at Amsterdam. He remained in
Holland until 1G20, when he formed one of the
ship's company of the Mayflower. While explor-
ing the bay in a small boat, for the purpose of
selecting a place for settlement, his wife was
drowned. After the death of Governor Carver,

April 5, 1621, he was chosen his successor. He
established by gentleness and firmness a good un-
derstanding with the Indians, and conducted the
internal affairs of the colony with equal sagacity.
He was annually re-tdected for twelve years, and
then, in the words of Governor Winthrop, " by
importunity got off" from the cares of office for
two years, when he was re-elected, and continued
in power, with the exceptions of the vears 1636,
'38, and '44, until his death, May 9,"l657. He
was twice married, and left two sons by his second
wife, Alice Southworth. The eldest, William,
was deputy-governor of the colony, and had nine
sons and three daughters.

Numerous anecdotes are related of Governor
Bradford, indicative of ready wit and good com-
mon sense. When in 1622, during a period of
great scarcity in the colony, Canonicus, Sachem
of Narragansett, sent him a bundle of arrows
tied with the skin of a serpent, the messenger
was immediately sent back with the skin stuffed
with powder and ball, which caused a speedy and
satisfactory termination to the correspondence.
Suspecting one Lyford of plotting against the ec-
clesiastical arrangements of the colony, he'boarded
a ship, which was known to have carried out a
large number of letters written by him, after she
had left port, examined them, and thus obtained
evidence by which Lyford was tried and banished.

Governor Bradford's reputation as an author is
decidedly of a posthumous character. He left a
MS. history, in a folio volume of 270 pages, of the
Plymouth colony, from the formation of their
church in 1602 to 1647. It furnished the mate-
rial for Morton's Memorial, was used \>y Prince
and Governor Hutchinson in the preparation of
their histories, and deposited, with the collection
of papers of the former, in the library of the Old
South Church, in Boston. During the desecration
of this edifice as a riding-school by the British
in the Revolutionary war, the MS. disappeared.*
A copy of a portion closing with the year 1620,
in the handwriting of Nathaniel Morton, was dis-
covered by the Rev. Alexander Young in the li-
brary of the First Chnrch, at Plymouth, and
printed in his Chronicles of the Pilgrim Fathers
of the Colony of Plymouth, in 1841. A "letter-
book," in which Bradford preserved copies of his
correspondence, met with a similar fate, a portion
onlv having been rescued from a grocer's shop in
Halifax, and published in the Collections of the
Massachusetts Historical Society, in 1794, vol. iii.
of the first series of Collections, with a fragment
of a poem on New England. These, with two
other specimens of a few lines each, first pub-
lished by the same Society in 1838,t form, with
the exception of some slight controversial pieces,
the whole of his literary productions.

" I commend unto your wisdom and discre-
tion," he says in his will, " some small bookes
written by my own hand, to be improved as you
shall see meet. In special, I commend to you a

* It was given up for lost till 1855, when it was found com-
plete in the Fulham Library, England,
t Third Series, vii.

WILLIAM BRADFORD.

31

little booke -with a black cover, wherein there is
a word to Plymouth, a word to Boston, and
a word to New England, with sundry useful
verses."

OF BOSTON IN NEW ENGLAND.

O Boston, though thou now art grown
To be a great and wealtl y town,
Yet I have seen thee a void place,
Shrubs and bushes covering thy face;
And house then in thee none were there,
Nor such as gold and silk did weare ;
No drunkenness were then in thee,
Nor such excess as now we see.
We then drunk freely of thy spring,
Without paying of anything ;
We lodged freely where we would,
All things were tree and nothing sold.
And they that did thee first begin,
Had hearts as free and as willing
Their poor friends for to entertain,
And never looked at sordid gain.

Some thou hast had whome I did know,
That spent theirselves to make thee grow,
And thy foundations they did lay,
Which do remain unto this day.
When thou wast weak they did thee nurse,
Or else with thee it had been worse;
They left thee not, but did defend
And succour thee unto their end.
Thou now hast grown in wealth and 6tore,
Do not forget that thou wast poor,
And lift not up thyself in pride,
From truth and justice turn not aside.
Remember thou a Cotton had,
Which made the hearts of many glad ;
What he thee taught bear thou in mind,
It's hard another such to find.
A Winthrop once in thee was known,
Who unto thee was as a crown.
Such ornaments are very rare,
Yet thou enjoyed this blessed pair.
But these are gone, their work is done,
Their day is past, set is their sun:
Yet faithful Wilson still remains,
And learned Norton doth take pains.

Live ye in peace. I could say more.
Oppress ye not the weak and poor.
The trade is all in your own hand,
Take heed ye do not wrong the land,
Lest he that hath lift you on high,
When, as the poor to him do cry,
Do throw you down from your high state,
And make you low and desolate.

FBAGMENTAEY POESI ON NEW ENGLAND.

Famine once we had,
But other things God gave us in full store,
As fish and ground-nuts, to supply our strait,
That we might learn on Providence to wait;
And know, by bread man lives not in his need,
But by each word that doth from God proceed.
But a while after plenty did come in,
From his hand only who doth pardon sin.
And all did flourish like the pleasant green,
Which in the joyful spring is to be seen.

Almost ten years we lived here alone,

In other places there were few or none;

For Salem was the next of any fame,

That began to augment New England's name ;

But after multitudes began to flow,

More than well knew themselves where to bestow ;

Boston then began her roots to spread,

And quickly soon she grew to be the head,

Not only of the Massachusetts Bay,

But all trade and commerce fell in her way.

And truly it was admirable to know,

How greatly all things here began to grow.

New plantations were in each place begun,

And with inhabitants were filled soon.

All sorts of grain which our own land doth yield,

"Was hither brought, and sown in every field:

As wheat and rye, barley, oats, beans and pease,

Here all thrive, and they profit from them raise.

All sorts of roots and herbs in gardens grow,

Parsnips, carrots, turnips, or what you'll sow.

Onions, melons, cucumbers, radishes,

Skirets, beets, coleworts, and fair cabbages.

Here grow fine flowers many, and 'niongst those,

The fair white lily and sweet fragrant rose.

Many good wholesome berries here you'll find,

Fit for man's use, almost of every kind,

Pears, apples, cherries, plumbs, quinces and peach,

Are now no dainties ; yon may have of each.

Nuts and grapes of several sorts are here,

If you will take the pains them to seek for.

******
But that which did 'bove all the rest excel,
God in his word, with us he here did dwell;
Well ordered churches, in each place there were,
And a learn'd ministry was planted here.
All marvell'd and said: "Lord, this work is thine,
In the wilderness to make such lights to shine."
And truly it was a glorious thing,
Thus to hear men pray, and God's praises sing.
Where these natives were wont to cry and yell
To Satan, wdio 'niongst them doth rule and dwelL
Oh, how great comfort it was now to see
The churches to enjoy free liberty!
And to have the Gospel preach'd here with power,
And such wolves repell'd as would else devour;
And now with plenty their poor souls were fed,
With better food than wheat, or angel's bread,
In green pastures, they may themselves solace,
And drink freely of the sweet springs of grace;
A pleasant banquet is prepar'd for these,
Of fat things, and rich wine upon the lees ;
" Eat,,0 my friends (saith Christ), and drink freely,
Here's wine and milk, and all sweet spieery;
The honey and its comb is here to be had ;
I myself for you have this banquet made:
Be not dismayed, but let your heart rejoice
In this wilderness, O let me hear your voice;
My friends you are, whilst you my ways do keep,
Your sins I'll pardon aud your good I'll seek."
And they, poor souls, again to Christ do say:
" 0 Lord, thou art our hope, our strength and stay,
Who givest to us all these thy good things,
Us shelter still, in the shadow of thy wings:
So we shall sing, and laud thy name with praise,
'Tis thine own work to keep us in thy ways;
Uphold us still, 0 thou which art most high,
We then shall be kept, and thy name glorify,
Let us enjoy thyself, with these means of grace,
And in our hearts shine, with the light of thy face;
Take not away thy presence, nor thy word,
But, we humbly pray, us the same afford."

JOHN DAVENPORT.

John Davenport, the first minister of New Ha-
ven, and an important theological writer of his
time, was bora in Coventry, England, in 159'T.
He was educated at Merton and Magdalen col-
leges, Oxford, but left before taking a degree.
Soon after removing to London he became minis-
ter of St. Stephen's Church, Coleman St., at nine-
teen, and obtained great celebrity as a pulpit
orator. In the year 1630 he united with others

32

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

in purchasing church property held hy laymen
•with a view of devoting the revenue therefrom to
provide clergymen for destitute congregations.
By the exertions of Laud, who feared that the
scheme would be turned to the advantage of the
non-conformists, the company was broken up,
and the money which had been collected, confis-
cated. In 1023, in consequenceof non-conformity,
he resigned his church, and removed to Holland.
After preaching to the English congregation for
two years as the colleague of John Paget, he be-
came engaged in a controversy in consequence of
his opposition to the plan there pursued, of the
general baptism of infants, and retiring from the
pulpit devoted himself to teaching, until he was
induced by John Cotton to emigrate to Boston.
He had been an early friend of the colony, having
been one of the applicants for the original char-
ter. His name does not appear in the list of pa-
tentees, having been omitted at his own request
lest it should excite the opposition of Laud to the
scheme. He arrived at Boston, June, 1637, and in
August took part in the Synod called in reference
to the opinions of Anne Hutchinson. He sailed,
March 30, 1 638, with a company for Quinnipiack or
New Haven, where he preached under an oak on
the eighteenth of April, the first Sunday after his
arrival, as their minister, a position he retained
for thirty years, during which he was instrumen-
tal in the passage of the rigid laws regarding
church membership established in the colony.
He displayed great courage in concealing the
Regicides, Whalley and Gofle, in his own house,
in 1661, and by preaching when their pursuers
were expected in the city from the text, " Hide
the outcasts; bewray not him that wandereth.
Let mine outcasts dwell with thee, Moab; be
thou a covert to them from the face of the spoiler"
(Isaiah xvi. 3, 4). On the death of John Wilson,
minister of the first church in Boston, in 1667,
he accepted a call to become his successor, believ-
ing that as affairs in New Haven were in a 'settled
condition he could do more good in Boston, where,
as he thought, ecclesiastical discipline had been
unduly relaxed. He was instituted pastor, Dec.
9,1688, and died of apoplexy March 15, 1670.

He was the author of several pamphlets on the
controversy between himself and the English
church at Amsterdam, of A Discourse about
Civil Government in a new Plantation, whose de-
sign is religion, and of TJie Saints Anchor Hold
in all Storms and Tempests, a collection of ser-
mons. He also prepared an Exposition on the
Canticles, of which Mather tells us, " the death of
the gentleman chiefly concerned in the intended
impression proved the death of the impression
itself."*

ROGER WILLIAMS.
In the political history of the country, the name
of Williams, as the apostle of civil and religious
liberty, holds the first rank ; his literary achieve-
ments, exhibiting his graces of character, entitle
him to an honorable place in this collection. He
was one of the first of the learned university men
who came to New England for conscience sake,
and the principle which brought him across the
Atlantic did not depart on his landing. Religious

* Magnalia, Ed. 1858, i. 880.

liberty, the right divine of conscience, was not
simply having his own way, while he checked
other people's. He did not fly from persecution
to persecute. Born in Wales in 1606,* edu-
cated at Oxford ; if not a student at law with
Sir Edward Coke, enjoying an early intimacy
with him; then a non-conformist minister in con-
flict with the ecclesiastical authorities of the
times, he arrived in Massachusetts in 1631.
Asserting at once his views of religious tolera-
tion, the independence of conscience of the civil
magistrate, and the separation of Church and
State, he was driven from Salem, where he had
become established as a preacher, by an order of
the General Council in 1635, into exile, for "his
new and dangerous opinions against the authority
of magistrates." He then made his memorable
journey in the winter season, through what was
then a wilderness, to the vicinity of Narragansett
Bay, where, received in friendship by the Indians,
he established himself at Seekonk; but finding
himself within the limits of the Plymouth colony,
he sailed with his friends in a canoe down the
river to found on the opposite shore the city of
Providence, a living name which will always bear
witness to his persecution and trust in God.
Here he maintained friendly relations with the
Indians, warded off disaster, by quieting their
threatened aggressions, from the people who had
driven him away, received fugitives for conscience
sake from Massachusetts Bay, and promoted the
settlement of Rhode Island. In 1643 he sailed
from New Amsterdam for England, as an agent
to procure a charter. On his way thither at sea,
he wrote his Key into the Language of America,
which he published in London, on his arrival.f
"I drew," he says in his address, "to my dear
and well, beloved friends and countrymen in Old
and New England, the materials in a rude lump
.at sea, as a private help to my own memory, that
I might not hy my present absence lightly lose
what I had so dearly bought in some few years of
hardship and charges among the Barbarians," and
he committed it to the public for the benefit of
his friends. " A little key," he says, " may open
a box, where lies a bunch of keys."

Msji/;« m

* We follow here the Oxford University entry presented by
Dr. Elton, in preference to the usual statements which make
bim seven or eight years older.

t A Key into the Language of America, or an help to the
Language of the Natives in that part of Amehica called New
Encland ; together with briefe Observations of the Customs,
Manners and Worships, &c. of the aforesaid Nations, in Peace
and Wane, in Life and Death. On all which are added Spirit-
ual! Observations, General and Particular, by the Authour, of
chiefe and special! use (upon all occasions) to all the English
Inhabiting those parts ; yet pleasant and profitable to the view
of all men : By lioger Williams, of Providence, in New Eng-
land. London: Printed by George Dexter, 18mo„ pp. 200.
1648. There are very few copies of the original edition of this
book in existence, the library of the Massachusetts Historical
Society has one, from which a reprint has been made in the
first volume of the Collections of the Ehode Inland Historical
Society. Providence, 1S27. Mr. James Lenox, of New York,
in his valuable Collection, has another, which we have had the
privilege of consulting for this article. The Licenser's Im-
primatur on the last page is curious. " I have read over tluse
thirty chapters of the American Language, to me wholly ml-
knenone, and the Observations, tliexe I conceive inoffensive ;
and tltat Vie Worke may conduce to the happy end intended
hy t/ie Author. Jo Lak'glev."

ROGER WILLIAMS.

33

The book is in a series of thirty-two chapters,
each containing a vocabulary, with an occasional
enlargement at a suggestive word relating to man-
ners or notions ; and concluding with a copy of
verses. To the second chapter, " of Eating and
Entertainment," this pious and benevolent man
touchingly adds: —

Coarse bread and water's most their fare,

O England's diet fine ;
Thy cup runs o'er with plenteous store

Of wholesome beer and wine.

Sometimes God gives them fish or flesh,

Yet they're content without ;
And what comes in they part to friends

And strangers round about.

God's providence is rich to his,

Let none distrustful be ;
In wilderness, in great distress,

These Ravens have fed me.

There is the same simplicity and faith in Pro-
vidence in the rest of these little poems, wher-
ever the topic gives him an opportunity to ex-
press it. The notes are simply jottings down of
facts he had noticed — but even these few words
are somehow instinct with his kindly spirit. " I
once travailed," he says, "to an island of the
wildest in our parts, where in the night an In-
dian (as he said) had a vision or dream of the Sun
(whom they worship for a God) darting a beam
into his breast, which he conceived to be the mes-
senger of his death. This poor native called his
friends and neighbors, and prepared some little
refreshing for them, but himself was kept wak-
ing and fasting in great humiliations and invo-
cations for ten days and nights. I was alone
(having travelled from my bark the wind being
contrary) and little could I speak to them, to their
understanding, especially because of the change of
their dialect or maimer of speech from our neigh-
bors : yet so much (through the help of God) I
did speak, of the true and living only wise God,
of the Creation, of Man and his fall from God,
&c, that at parting many burst forth, Oh when
will you come again, to bring us some more news
of this God f And to this follow the " more
particular" reflections :—

God gives them sleep on ground, on straw,

On sedgy mats or board :
"When English softest beds of down,

Sometimes no sleep afford.

I have known them leave their house and mat,

To lodge a friend or stranger,
"When Jews and Christians oft have sent

Christ Jesus to the manger.

Tore day they invoeate their gods.

Though many false and new ;
0 how should that God worshipt be,

Who is but one and true ?

" How sweetly," he says, " do all the several
sorts of heaven's birds, in all coasts of the world,
preach unto men the praise of their maker's wis-
dome, power, and goodnesse, who feeds them
and their young ones summer and winter with
their several sorts of food : although they neither
sow nor reap, nor gather into barns ! "

vol. i. — 3

If birds that neither sow nor reape,

Nor store up any food,
Constantly to them and theirs

A maker kind and good !

If man provide eke for his birds,

In yard, in coops, in cage,
And each bird spends in songs and tunea,

His little time and age!

What care will man, what care will God

For his wife and children take ?
Millions of birds and worlds will God

Sooner than his, forsake.

To the general " observations of their travel,"

God makes a path, provides a guide,

And feeds in wilderness!
His glorious name while breath remains,

0 that I may confess.

Lost many a time, I have had no guide,

No house, but hollow tree !
In stormy winter night no fire,

No food, no company :

In him I have found a house, a bed,

A table, company :
No cup so bitter, but's made sweet,

When God shall sweetning be.

His business with Parliament was successful.
He obtained a Charter of Incorporation of Pro-
vidence Plantations in 1644. Before his return
he published in London, the same year, a
pamphlet, Mr. Cotton's Letter, lately printed,
Examined and Answered, a refutation of the rea-
sons of his dismissal, and also his celebrated
work, which embodies the principles of tolera-
tion, The Bloody Tenent of Persecution, for
cause of Conscience, discussed in a Conference
between Truth and Peace.*

The history of this composition is curious. "A
witness of Jesus Christ, close prisoner in New-
gate," wrote a tract "against persecution in
cause of Conscience," which he penned on paper
introduced into his prison as the stoppers to a
bottle of milk, the fluid of which served him for
ink. Williams thus introduces it in the prefatory
part of his book, the "Tenent:" —

Arguments against persecution in milk, the answer
for it (as I may say) in blood

The author of these arguments (against persecu-
tion) (as I have been informed) being committed by
some then in power, close prisoner to Newgate, for
the witness of some truths of Jesus, and having not
the use of pen and ink, wrote these arguments in
milk, in sheets of paper, brought to him by the
woman his keeper, from a friend in London, as the
stoppers of his milk bottle.

In such paper written with milk, nothing will
appear, but the way of reading it by fire being
known to this friend who received the papers, he
transcribed and kept together the papers, although
the author himself could not correct, nor view what
himself had written.

It was in milk, tending to soul nourishment, even
for babes and sucklings in Christ.

It was in milk, spiritually white, pure, and inno-

* The Bloody Tenent of Persecution, for cause of Con-
science, discussed in a Conference between Truth and Peace,
who, in all tender affection, present to the High Court of Par-
liament, as the Eesult of their Discourse, these, amongst
other, Passages of highest consideration. Printed in tho year
1644 4to. pp.247.

34

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

cent, like those white horses of the 'word of truth
and meekness, and the white linen or armour of
righteousness, in the army of Jesus. Rev. vi. & xix.

It was in milk, soft, meek, peaceable, and gentle,
tending both to the peace of souls and the peace of
states and kingdoms.

This was a mild introduction to controversy :
yet being sent to New England, was answered
Dy John Cotton, when "Williams published both
arguments with his reply. The " Bloody Tenent "
is a noble work, full of brave heart and tender-
ness ; a book of learning and piety, — the composi-
tion of a true, gentle nature. How sweet, delicate,
and reverential are the soft approaches of the
dialogue as " Peace " and " Truth " address one
another. "But hark," says Truth, "what noise is
this ?" as she listens to the din of the wars for Con-
science. Those," is the reply, "are the doleful
drums and shrill-sounding trumpets, the roaring,
murdering cannons, the shouts of conquerors, the
groans of wounded, dying, slaughtered righteous,
with the wicked. Dear Truth, how long? How
long these dreadful sounds and direful sights ? How
long before my glad return and restitution?"
This is the expression of a poet. For his posi-
tion as an asserter of religious toleration, we may
quote the sentence of Bancroft: "He was the
first person in modern Christendom to assert in
its plenitude the doctrine of the liberty of con-
science, the equality of opinions before the law,
and in its defence he was the harbinger of Mil-
ton, the precursor and the superior of Jeremy
Taylor."*

"Williams returned to America in 1644, and at
the close of 1651 again visited England to secure
the Confirmation of the Charter, in which he
succeeded. Cotton had in the meantime replied,
in 1647, to the "Bloody Tenent" in his "Bloody
Tenent "Washed and Made "White in the Blood of
the Lamb," to which "Williams was ready in Lon-
don with his rejoinder, The Bloody Tenent yet
more Bloody, by Mr. Cotton's Endeator to Wash
it White in, the Blood of the Lambe^ in which
he pursued his argument with his old zeal and
learning. He published at the same time, in a
small 4to., The Hireling Ministry none of Chrisfs,
or a Discourse touching the Propagating the
Gospel of Christ Jesus; humbly presented to
such Pious and Honorable Hands, whom the pre-
sent Debate thereof concerns.

In 1853, there were first published at Provi-
dence, in the Life of Roger Williams by Romeo
Elton,| a brief series of letters which passed be-
tween Williams and the daughter of his old bene-

* Bancroft's Hist. TJ. S. i. 8T6.

t The Bloody Tenent yet more Bloody, by Mr. Cotton's
Endeavor to wash it white in the Blood of the Lambe, of
whose precious Blood spilt in the Blood of his Servants, and
of the Blood of Millions spilt in former and later Wars for
Conscience' Sake, that most Bloody Tenent of Persecution for
Cause of Conscience, upon a second Tryal, is now found more
apparently, and more notoriously guilty. In this Rejoynder
to Mr. Cotton are principally, 1. The Nature of Persecution;
2. The Power of the Civill Sword in Spiritualls examined ; 3.
Tbo Parliament's Permission of dissenting Consciences justi-
fied. Also (as a Testimony to Mr. Clark's Narrative) is added
a Letter to Mr. Endicott, Governor of the Massachusetts in
N. E. By P.. Williams, of Providence, in New England. Lon-
don printed for Giles Calvert, and are to be sold at the Black
Spread Eagle, at the West End of Paul's, 1652.

X Life of Roger Williams, the Earliest Legislator and true
Champion for a full and absolute liberty of Conscience. By
Romeo Elton, 96-11)9. This is a work of original research and
much interesting information.

factor, Sir Edward Coke, Mrs. Anne Sadleir, on
this second visit to England in 1652-3. They
are full of character on both sides ; the humor of
them consisting in the lady being a royalist, well
disposed to the church establishment, a sharp-
shooter in her language and a bit of a termagant,
while Williams was practising his politest graces
and most Christian forbearance, as he steadily
maintained his independent theology. He ad-
dresses her, "My much-honored friend, Mrs.
Sadleir," and tenders her one of his compositions
to read, probably the work he had just published
iu England, entitled, Experiments of Spiritual
Life and Health and their Preservatives,* which
he describes as " a plain and peaceable discourse,
of my own personal experiments, which, in a
letter to my dear wife — upon the occasion of her
great sickness near death — I sent her, being ab-
sent myself among the Indians." He courteously
invites attention and even censure. "I have
been oft glad," he says, "in the wilderness of
America to have been reproved for going in a
wrong path, and to be directed by a naked In-
dian boy in my travels." He quietly throws out
a few hints of the virtues of his own position in
church matters. Mrs. Sadleir quotes Scripture in
reply.

Mr. Williams, — Since it has pleased God to make
the prophet David's complaint ours (Ps. lxxis.) : " O
God, the heathen," (fee, and that the apostle St. Peter
has so long ago foretold, in his second epistle, the
second chapter, by whom these things should be oc-
casioned, I have given over reading many books,
and, therefore, with thanks, have returned yours.
Those that I now read, besides the Bible, are, first,
the late king's book ; Hooker's Ecclesiastical Polity ;
Reverend Bishop Andrews's Sermons, with his other
divine meditations ; Dr. Jer. Taylor's works ; and
Dr. Tho. Jackson upon the Creed. Some of these
my dear father was a great admirer of, and would
often call them the glorious lights of the church of
England. These lights shall be my guide; I wish
they may be yours ; for your new lights that are so
much cried up, I believe, in the conclusion, they
will prove but dark lanterns ; therefore I dare not
meddle with them.

Your friend in the old way,

Anne Sadleir.

Which little repellant, Williams, feeling the sting,
answers, offering another book : —

MY MUCH-HONORED, KIND FRIEND, MrS. SaDLETR,

My humble respects premised to your much-honored
self, and Mr. Sadleir, humbly wishing you the sav-
ing knowledge and assurance of that life which is
eternal, when this poor minute's dream is over. In
my poor span of time, I have been oft in the jaws
of death, sickening at sea, shipwrecked on shore, in
danger of arrows, swords and bullets : and yet, me-
thinks, the most high and most holy God hath re-
served me for some service to his most glorious and
eternal majesty.

I think, sometimes, in this common shipwreck of
mankind, wherein we all are either floating or sink-
ing, despairing or struggling for life, why should I
ever faint in striving, as Paul saith, in hopes to save
myself, to save others — to call, and cry, and ask,
what hope of saving, what hope of life, and of the

* Prof. GammeU's Life of Roger Williams, 218. We are
much indebted to his careful bibliography. Certainly there
should not bo suffered to remain much longer any difficulty of
access to all which Roger Williams wrote.

ROGER WILLIAMS.

35

eternal shore of mercy ? Your last letter, my honored
friend, I received as a bitter sweeting — as all, that
is under the sun, is — sweet, in that I hear from you,
and that you continue striving for life eternal ; bit-
ter, in that we differ about the way, in the midst of
the dangers and the distresses.

For the scope of this rejoinder, if it please the
Most High to direct your eye to a glance on it,
please you to know, that at my last being in Eng-
land, I wrote a discourse entitled, " The Bloudy
Tenent of Persecution for Cause of Conscience." I
bent my charge against Mr. Cotton especially, your
standard-bearer of New Englaud ministers. That
discourse he since answered, and calls his book,
" The Bloody Tenent made white in the Blood of
the Lamb." This rejoinder of mine, aa I humbly
hope, unwashed his washings, and proves that in
soul matters no weapons but soul weapons are reach-
ing and effectual.

His " much-honored, kind friend" replies : —

Sir, — I thank God my blessed parents bred me up
in the old and best religion, and it is my glory that
I am a member of the Church of England, as it was
when all the reformed churches gave her the right
hand. When I east mine eye upon the frontispiece
of your book, and saw it entitled " The Bloudy
Tenent," I durst not adventure to look into it, for
fear it should bring into my memory the much
blood that has of late been shed, and which I would
fain forget ; therefore I do, with thanks, return it.
I cannot call to mind any blood shed for conscience:
— some few that went about to make a rent in our
once well-governed church were punished, but none
suffered death. But this I know, that since it has
been left to every man's conscience to fancy what
religion he list, there has more christian blood been
shed than was in the ten persecutions. And some
of that blood will, I fear, cry to the day of judg-
ment. But you know what the Scripture says, that
when there was no king in Israel, every man did
that which was right in his own eyes, — but what
became of that, the sacred story will tell you.

Thus entreating you to trouble me no more in this
kind, and wishing you a good journey to your
charge in New Providence, I rest

Your Fkiend, in the Old and Best Way.

Williams, not to be diseoneerted, triples the
length of his response, with new divisions and
scripture citations, and this among other biting
paragraphs on the lady's favorite reading : —

I have read those books you mention, and the
king's book, which commends two of them, Bp. An-
drews's and Hookers — yea, and a third also, Bp.
Laud's: and as for the king. I know his person,
vicious, a swearer from his youth, and an oppressor
and persecutor of good men (to say nothing of his
own father), and the blood of so many hundred
thousands English, Irish, Scotch, French, lately
charged upon him. Against his and his blasphemous
father's cruelties, your own dear father, and many
precious men, shall rise up shortly and cry for ven-
geance.

But for the book itself — if it be his — and theirs
you please to mention, and thousands more, not only
prote3tants of several sects, but of some papists and
Jesuits also — famous for worldly repute, <fec. — I have
found them sharp and witty, plausible and delight-
ful, devout and pathetieaL And I have been
amazed to see the whole world of our forefathers,
wise and gallant, wondering after the glory of the
Romish learning and worship. (Rev. xiii.) But
amongst them all whom I have so diligently read
and heard, how few express the simplicity, the

plainness, the meekness, and true humility of the
learning of the Son of God.

with this telling postscript : —

My honored friend, since you please not to read
mine, let me pray leave to request your reading of
one book of your own authors. I mean the " Liberty
of Prophesying," penned by (so called) Dr. Jer.
Taylor. In the which is excellently asserted the
toleration of different religions, yea, in a respect,
that of the Papists themselves, which is a new way
of soul freedom, and yet is the old way of Christ
Jesus, as all his holy Testament declares.

I also humbly wish that you may please to read
J over impartially Mr. Milton's answer to the king's
book.

Mrs. Sadleir waxes indignant, and replies more
at length — getting personally discourteous and
scandalous on John Milton : —

Me. Williams, — I thought my first letter would
have given you so much satisfaction, that, in that
kind, I should never have heard of you any more ;
but it seems you have a face of brass, so that you
cannot blush.
*******

For Milton's book, that you desire I should read,
if I be not mistaken, that is he that has wrote a
book of the lawfulness of divorce.; and, if report
says true, he had, at that time, two or three wives
living. This, perhaps, were good doctrine in New
England ; but it is most abominable in Old England.
For his book that he wrote against the late king
that you would have me read, you should have
taken notice of God's judgment upon him, who
stroke him with blindness ; and, as I have heard, he
was fain to have the help of one Andrew Marvell,
or else he could not have finished that most accursed
libel. God has began his judgment upon him here
— his punishment will be hereafter in hell. But
have you seen the answer to it ? If you can get it,
I assure you it is worth your reading.

I have also read Taylor's book of the Liberty of
Prophesying; though it please not me, yet I am
sure it does you, or else I [know]* you [would]*
not have wrote to me to have read it. I say, it and
j'ou would make a good fire. But have you seen
his Divine Institution of the Office Ministerial ? I
assure that is both worth your reading and practice.
Bishop Laud's book against Fisher I have read long
since ; which, if you have not done, let me tell you
that he has deeply wounded the Pope ; and, I be-
lieve, howsoever he be slighted, he will rise a saint,
when many seeming ones, such as you are, will rise
devils.

This winds up the correspondence. Mrs. Sad-
leir, as she puts it aside, for publication a couple
of hundred years later, writing on the back of
Williams's first letter : — " This Roger Williams,
when he was a youth, would, in short hand, take
sermons and speeches in the Star Chamber, and
present them to my dear father. He, seeing so
hopeful a youth, took such liking to him that he
sent him in to Sutton's Hospital, and he was the
second that was placed there; full little did he
think that he would have proved such a rebel to
God, the king, and the country. I leave his let-
ters, that, if ever he has the face to return into his
native country, Tyburn may give him welcome."

* These words nre not in the MS.

36

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

For which scrap of biographical information, in
the too general dearth of anecdote respecting a
good and great man, we thank her.*

After his return he writes to his friend John
Winthrop, subsequently the Governor of Connec-
ticut, relating, among other incidents of his visit
to England, this anecdote of his exchange of lan-
guages with John Milton in his blindness — " It
pleased the Lord to call me for some time, and,
with some persons, to practice the Hebrew, the
Greek, Latin, French and Dutch. The Secretary
of the Council, Mr. Milton, for my Dutch I read
him, read me many more languages.''! lie was
intimate with Cromwell and passed much time
with Sir Henry Vane, the old Governor of Mas-
sachusetts. In this journey he was associated
with his friend Mr. John Clarke, who remained
in England as the agent of the colony, and in
whose behalf, on his return, he addressed a plea
to his "beloved friends and countrymen," the
General Assembly of Rhode Island. It is a good
example of his love of justice, directness, and
business tact, and, as such, we present a portion
of it in our extracts.^

"Williams was active as usual in the affairs of
the colony, and was chosen its President in 1654.
The persecution of the Quakers then followed in
Massachusetts; then' rights were maintained in
Rhode Island, though Williams held a controversy
with Fox and his disciples, an account of which
he embodied in the last of his publications in
1676, George Fox digged out of his Burrowes,% a
pun on the names of the Quaker leaders. Fox
replied to this in his New England Firebrand
Quenched, with abundant bitterness ; and Edmund-
son, one of Williams's personal antagonists in the
controversial encounter, which was held both at
Newport and Providence, in his Journal of his
Life, Sufferings, and Labor, speaks of " one Roger
Williams, an old priest and an enemy to truth,
putting forth fourteen propositions, as he called
them."|| It was an unpleasant affair, but the
Quakers had laid themselves open to attack
by some outrageous extravagances. Seven years
afterwards, in 1683, in the seventy-eighth year
of his age, the Founder of Rhode Island, the
friend of peace and asserter of liberty, died at
Providence, on the spot which his genius and
labors had consecrated. He left a wife and six
children. There is no portrait of him. The
engraving prefixed to the Life in Sparks's Ameri-

* Mr. Elton was lerl to the knowledge of these letters by Mr.
Bancroft the historian, and copied them from the original'MSS.
preserved in the library of Trinity College, Cambridge.

+ Elton's Life, 114.

i It was first published in the Ehode Island Book in 1840.

§ George Fox digg'd out of his Burrowes, or an Offer of Dis-
putation, on fourteen Proposal!* made this last Summer, 1672,
(so call'd), unto G. Fox. then present on Eode Island, in New
England, by E. W. As also how (G. Fox slily departing) the
Disputation went on, being managed three Dayes at Newport
on Eode Island, and one Day at Providence, between John
Stubbs, John Burnet, and William Edmundson, on the one
Part, and E. W. on the other. In which many Quotations
out of G. Fox and Ed. Burrowes Book in Folio are alledged.
With an Appendix, of some Scores of G. F., his simple lame
Answers to his Oppositcs in that Book quoted and replied to,
by E. W. of Providence in N. E. Boston, printed by John
Foster, 16T6.

H See Memoir of Eoger Williams, the Founder of the State
of Ehode Island, by James D. Knowles, for much careful his-
torical investigation on this and other poiuts. Mr. J. E. Bart-
lett has given an account of Edmundson's book, printed in
London 1718, in some Early Notices of Ehode Island, in the
Prwiil&tice Journal for 1855.

can Biography, is from an old painting put forth
a few years since, which was soon pronounced an
indifferent likeness of Benjamin Franklin.

CONFERENCE BE'

EN TEOTH AND PEACE. — FE03I THE
BLOODY TENENT.

Truth. In what dark corner of the world (siuect
Peace) are we two met? How hath this present
evil world banished me from all the coasta and
quarters of it? and how hath the righteous God in
judgment taken thee from the earth, Rev. vi. 4.

Peace. 'Tis lamentably true (blessed Truth) the
foundations of the world have long been out of
course : the gates of earth and hell have conspired
together to intercept our joyful meeting and our
holy kisses: with what a weary, tired wing have I
flown over nations, kingdoms, cities, towns, to find
out precious truth ?

Truth. The like enquiries in my flights and travels
have I made for Peace, and still am told, she hath
left the earth, and fled to heaven.

Peace. Dear Truth, what is the earth hut a dun-
geon of darkness, where Truth is not ?

Truth. And what is the Peace thereof but a fleet-
ing dream, thine ape and counterfeit?

Peace. Oh, where's the promise of the God of
Heaven, that Righteousness and Peace shall kiss
each other?

Truth. Patience (sweet Peace), these heavens and
earth are growing old, and shall be changed like a
garment, Psal. cii. They shall melt away, and be
burnt up with all the works that are therein; and
the most high Eternal Creator shall gloriously create
new heavens and new earth, wherein dwells right-
eousness, 2 Peter iii. Our kisses shall then have
their endless date of pure and sweetest joys ; till
then both thou and I must hope, and wait, and
bear the fury of the dragon's wrath, whose mon-
strous lies and furies shall with himself be cast into
the lake of fire, the second death, Rev. xx.

Peace. Most precious Truth, thou knowest we are
both pursued and laid for. Mine heart is full of
sighs, mine eyes with tears. Where can I better
veut my full oppressed bosom, than into thine,
whose faithful lips may for these few hours revive
my drooping, wandering spirits, and here begin to
wipe tears from mine eyes, and the eyes of my
dearest children?

Truth. Sweet daughter of the God of Peace,
begin, pour out thy sorrowes, vent thy complaints ;
how joyful am I to improve these precious minutes
to revive our hearts, both thine and mine, and the
hearts of all that love the Truth and Peace, Zaeh. viii.

Peace. Dear Truth, I know thy birth, thy nature,
thy delight. They that know thee, will prize thee
far above themselves and lives, and sell themselves
to buy thee. Well spake that famous Elizabeth to
her famous attorney, Sir Edward Coke: "Mr.
Attorney, go on as thou hast begun, and still
plead, not pro Domina Regina, but pro Domi/ia
Veritate.

Truth. 'Tis true, my crown is high, my sceptres
strong to break down strongest holds, to throw
down highest crowns of all that plead (though but
in thought) against me. Some few there are, but
oh, how few are valiant for the Truth and dare to
plead my cause, as my witnesses in sackcloth,
Revel, ii. While all men's tongues are bent like
boughs to shoot out lying words against me!

Peace. Oh, how could I spend eternal days and
endless dates at thy holy feet, in listening to the
precious oracles of thy mouth. All the words of
thy mouth are Truth, and there is no iniquity in
them. Thy lips drop as the honeycomb. But oh !
since we must part anon, let us (as thou saidst) im-

ROGER WILLIAMS.

37

prove our minutes, and (according as tliou pro-
niisedst) revive me with thy words, which are
sweeter than the honey, and the honeycomb.

CONCLUSION.

Peace. "We have now (dear Truth) through the
gracious hand of God clambered up to the top of
this our tedious discourse.

Truth. Oh, 'tis mercy unexpressible that either thou
or I have had so long a breathing time, and that
together !

Peace. If English ground must yet be drunk with
English blood, oh, where shall Peace repose her wea-
ried head and heavy heart?

Truth. Dear Peace, if thou find welcome, and the
God of peace miraculously please to quench these
all-devouring flames, yet where shall Truth find rest
from cruel persecutions ?

Peace. Oh, will not the authority of holy scrip-
tures, the commands and declarations of the Son of
God, therein produced by thee, together with all
the lamentable experiences of former and present
slaughters, prevail with the sons of men (especially
with the sons of Peace) to depart from the dens of
lions, and mountains of leopards, and to put on the
bowels (if not of Christianity, yet) of humanity each
to other!

Truth. Dear Peace, Habacuck's fishes keep their
constant bloody game of persecutions in the world's
mighty ocean; the greater taking, plundering, swal-
lowing up the lesser: 0 happy he whose portion is
the God of Jacob! Who hath nothing to lose under
the sun, but hath a state, a house, an inheritance, a
name, a crown, a life, past all the plunderers, ra-
vishers, murtherers reach and fury!

Peace. But lo ! Who's here ?

Truth. Our sister Patience, whose desired com-
pany is as needful as delightful! 'Tis like the wolf
will send the scattered sheep iu one: the common
pirate gathers up the loose and scattered navyi the
slaughter of the witnesses by that bloody beast unites
the Independents and Presbyterians. The God of
Peace, the God of Truth will shortly seal this truth,
and confirm this witness, and make it evident to the
whole world,

That the doctrine of persecution for cause of con-
science, is most evidently and lamentably contrary
to the doctrine of Christ Jesus the Prince of Peace.
Amen.

PLEA FOE JOUN CLARKE.

The first is peace, commonly called among all
men, the King's Peace, among ourselves and among
all the King's subjects and friends, in this country
and wheresoever : and, further, at our agent's most
reasonable petition, the King prohibits all his sub-
jects to act any hostility toward our Natives inha-
biting with us without our consent, which hath
hitherto been otherwise practiced to our continual
and great grievance and disturbance.

The second jewel is Liberty. The first, of our
spirits, which neither Old nor New England knows
the like, nor no part of the world a greater.

2d. Liberty of our persons; no life, no limb taken
from us, no corporeal punishment, no restraint but
by known laws and agreements of our own making.

3. Liberty of our Estates, horses, cattle, lands,
goods, not a penny to be taken by any rate from us,
without every man's free debate by his deputies,
chosen by himself, and Bent to the General As-
sembly.

4. Liberty of society or corporation, of sending or
being sent to the General Assembly, of choosing and
being chosen to all offices and of making or repealing
all laws and constitutions among us.

5. A liberty, which other charters have not, to
wit, of attending to the laws of England, with a
favorable mitigation, viz. not absolutely, but respect-
ing our wilderness estate and condition.

I confess it were to be wished, that these dainties
might have fallen from God, and the King, like
showers and dews and manna from heaven, gratis
and free, like a joyful harvest or vintage, without
any pains of our husbandry ; but since the most holy
God, the first Cause, hath ordered second causes
and means and agents and instruments, it is no more
honest for us to withdraw in tlus case, than for men
to come to an Ordinary and to call for the best wine
and liquor, the best meats roast and baked, the best
attendance, <fec, and to be able to pay for all and
yet most unworthily steal away and not discharge
the reckoning.

My second witness is Common Gratitude, famous
among all mankind, yea, among brute beasts, even
the wildest and fiercest, for kindness received. It
is true, Mr. Clarke might have a just respect to his
own and the peace and liberty of his friends of his
own persuasion. But I believe the weight that
turned the scale with him was the truth of God, viz.
a just liberty to all men's spirits in spiritual matters,
together with the peace and prosperity of the whole
colony. This, I know, put him upon incredible
pains and travail, straits and anguish, day and night,
himself and his friends and ours, which I believe a
great sum of money would not hire him to wade
through the like again. I will not trouble you with
the allowances, payments, and gratuities of other
colonies in like eases. Only let me present you with
a famous story out of our English records. Henry
the Third, as I remember, fell out with the city of
London, took away their charter and set a governor
over them, which brought many evils and sorrows
on them. But Doctor Redman, so called, pacified
the King's anger and procured a restitution of their
charter, though with great charges and payments of
moneys. Sow while this Redman lived, they ho-
nored him as a father and heaped all possible gra-
tuities upon Mm; and when he died they decreed
that the Lord Mayor and Aldermen and chief citi-
zens, should yearly and solemrdy visit his tomb,
which mine eyes have seen performed in the public
walks in Paul's, and I presume, it is practised to this
day. I will not trouble you with the application of
this story, but present you with my third Witness
of the fairness of this matter, which is Christianity,
which we all pretend to, though in various and dif-
ferent persuasions. This witness soars high above
Common justice and Common gratitude, yea, above
all religions. This not only speaks home for due
payment and due thankfulness, but of doing good for
evil, of paying blessing for cursing, of praying for
enemies and persecutors, of selling houses and lands,
yea, of laying down lives for others. Common jus-
tice would not, Common gratitude would not, least
of all will Christianity, employ a public messenger
unto a mighty King and there leave him to shift for
his living and means to go through so high a service,
nor leave him to shift for moneys and to mortgage
his house and lands to carry on our business and
thus to forfeit and lose them ; and lost they are, a3
all must see, except a speedy redemption save them.
Shall we say we are christians, yea but ingenuous
or just men, to ride securely, hi a troublous sea and
time, by a new cable and anchor of Mr. Clarke's
procuring and to be so far from satisfying his en-
gagement about them, that we turn him adrift to
languish and sink, with his back broke, for putting
under his shoulder, to ease us. "Which of you,"
said Christ Jesus to his enemies, " will see an ox or a
sheep fall into a pit and not pull it out on the Sab-

38

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

bath day?" What beast can labor harder, in plough-
ing, drawing, or carrying, than Mr. Clarke hath done
so long a time, and with so little provender? Shall
we now, when he looks for rest at night, tumble
him by our neglects into a ditch of sadness, grief,
poverty, and ruin?
*******

If we wholly neglect this business, what will be-
come of our credit? Rhode-Island, in the Greek
language, is an Isle of Roses, and so the King's Ma-
jesty was pleased to resent it; and his honorable
commissioners in their last letter to the Massachu-
setts from the eastward, gave Rhode-Island and this
whole colony an honorable testimony which is like
to be pointed to the view of the whole world. Shall
we now turn our roses into hemlock and our fra-
grant ointment into carrion? Our own names, in a
righteous way, ought to be more precious to us than
thousands of gold or silver, how much infinitely
more precious, the name of the most Holy and most
High and his holy truth of soul-liberty amongst us.

JOHN CLAEKE,

The friend of Roger Williams, was one of the
earliest authors of Rhode Island. He was born
in 1G09, and is supposed to have been a native
of Bedfordshire. He was educated as a physi-
cian. Soon after his emigration to Massachu-
setts he publicly claimed, with Roger Williams,
full license for religious belief. He was one of
the eighteen, who on the seventh of March 1637-8,
having formed themselves into an association,
purchased Aquetneck and became the Founders of
Rhode Island. In 1644, he formed and became
the pastor of the Baptist Church at Newport, a
charge he retained until his death. In 1649 he
was treasurer of the colony. In 1651 he visited
his friends at Lynn, and while preaching there on
the forenoon of Sunday, July 20, was arrested,
compelled to attend meeting in the afternoon, and
on the 31st, after trial, condemned to pay a fine
of twenty pounds. He wrote from prison pro-
posing a discussion of his theological principles, a
course which had been suggested by the judge,
Endicott, in passing sentence ; but the challenge
was not taken up, and Clarke soon after paying
his fine, was ordered to leave the colony. In
1651 he went with Roger Williams on an embassy
to England, where he remained until he obtained
the second charter of the colony dated July 8,
1663. He published in London in 1652, III News
from New England* It contains a narrative of
his difficulties and a discussion of various theolo-
gical points, with an inculcation of the great doc-
trine of toleration. The work is reprinted in the
last volume (second of the fourth series) of the Mas-
sachusetts Historical Society, where it occupies 113
octavo pages. Its style is diffuse, the sentences
being of intolerable length, but is in general ani-
mated, and passages occasionally occur which ap-
proach to eloquence.

After his return, Clarke was elected for three suc-
cessive years deputy governor of the colony. He

* HI News from New England, or a Narrative of New Eng-
land's Persecution, wherein is declared that while old England
is becoming new, NewEngland is become old. Also four pro-
posals to the Honoured Parliament and Council of State, touch-
ing the way to Propagate the Gospel of Christ (with small
charge and great safety), both in Old England and New. Also
four conclusions touching the faith and order of the Gospel of
Christ, out of bis last Will and Testament, confirmed aud jus-
tified.

died at Newport in 1676, childless, and by his
will, directed the annual income produced by his
farm (which has amounted to about $200*) to he
given to the poor, and employed for the promo-
tion of religion and learning. The same instru-
ment bears testimony to his learning as well as
charity, as he also bequeathes " to his dear friend "
Richard Bailey, his Hebrew and Greek books,
with a Concordance and Lexicon written by
himself. He also left a paper expressing his Cal-
vinistic belief.

SAMUEL GOETON.

Samuel Gorton was born in the town of Gorton,
England, where his ancestors had resided for
many generations. " I was not brought up," he
says, in a letter written to Nathaniel Morton, the
annalist, "in the schools of human learning, and
I bless God that I never was." In his address to
Charles the Second, in 1679, he speaks of "his
mother," the Church of England, but in 1636 we
find him emigrating from the city of London,
where he was engaged in business as a clothier,
to Boston, that he might " enjoy liberty of con-
science, in respect to faith towards God, and for
no other end." After a short residence in Boston,
not finding the theology there prevalent to his
taste, he removed to Plymouth, where his wife's
servant, having smiled in church, "wr.s threat-
ened with banishment from the colony as a com-
mon vagabond.''t Gorton incurred odium by his
defence of the offender, which was increased by
his success as a preacher in drawing off hearers
from the Plymouth church. This was peculiarly
distasteful to the pastor, the Rev. Ralph Smith,
who was instrumental in his arraignment and
conviction on the charge of heresy. The court,
Gorton says, "proceeded to fine and imprison-
ment, together with sentence given, that my
family should depart out of my own hired house
within the space of fourteen days, upon the
penalty of another great sum of money (besides
my fine paid), and their further wrath and dis-
pleasure, which time to depart fell to be in a
mighty storm of snow as I have seen in the
country ; my wife being turned out of doors in

the said storm and myself to travel in the

wilderness I knew not whither, the people com-
forting my wife and children when I was gone
with this, that it was impossible for me to come
alive to any plantation."! This was in the win-
ter of 1637-8.

He removed to Aquetneck, or Rhode Island,
where he soon became involved in difficulty about
"a small trespass of swine." He was brought
before the governor, Coddington, who ordered,
" You that are for the king, lay hold on Gorton."
He again, on the other side, called forth, "All
you that are for the king, lay hold on Codding-
ton." He was whipped and banished from the
island.

He next removed to Providence, wh ere, in Janu-
ary, 1642, he purchased land at Pawtuxet. Here
he was followed, as at his previous Residences, by
those who sympathized with his doctrines. He

* Allen's Biog. Diet. 1836.

t Life of Gorton, by John M. Mackie, a work to which wc
are chiefly indebted in the preparation of this article. It is ono
of the series of American Biographies edited by Jared Sparks.

X Letter to Nath. Morton.

. EDWARD JOHNSON ; JOHN" ELIOT.

39

soon took part, with his usual warmth, in a dis-
pute between the inhabitants of the settlements at
Moshassuck and Pawtuxet. His opponents, in the
absence of any chartered government of their own
colony, applied to Massachusetts Bay tor assistance.
That colony answered that they had " no calling
or warrant to interfere in their contentions." A
second application in September, 1642, was con-
strued into an admission of the jurisdiction of
Massachusetts Bay, and Gorton was summoned
to Boston. ' He returned a reply on the 20th of
November, denying the jurisdiction of the " men
of Massachusetts," in which he was clearly in the
right; and again removed in 1642 to lands pur-
chased at Shawomet, from a sachem called Mian-
tonomo. It was not long, however, before two
inferior sachems, acknowledging the jurisdiction
of Massachusetts, were instigated to claim the
purchased lands as their property. The inhabit-
ants of Shawomet were cited to appear at Boston
to answer the complaint of these sachems. On
their refusal to do so an armed commission was
sent to settle the affair. The negotiations failed,
and Gorton finally consented to appear, with his
followers, at Boston. On their arrival the ques-
tion of the title to the lands was dropped, and
they were tried for heresy. Gorton was convict-
ed, and, narrowly escaping the punishment of
death, was sentenced to " be confined to Charles-
town, there to be set on work, and to wear such
bolts or irons, as may hinder his escape, and to
continue during the pleasure of the court." In
case he should preach or publish his doctrines he
was to be put to death. In January, 1644, this
punishment was commuted to banishment. Gor-
ton repaired with his followers to Aquetneck,
where they persuaded the sachems to deed their
lands, and place themselves under the protection
of the English crown. In the same year he sailed
from New Amsterdam for England, where ho
published, in 1646, his tract, entitled Simplicities
Defence against Seven-Headed Policy. He also
preached on several occasions to large audiences.
He returned in 1648 to Boston, with a letter from
the Earl of Warwick, requesting that he might
be allowed to pass through Massachusetts unmo-
lested, and on his arrival at Shawomet, named
the place Warwick, in acknowledgment of this
and other services from that nobleman. He had
secured, while in England, the protection of the
government, and passed the remainder of his days
in tranquillity. He died at an advanced age in
the latter part of the year 1677, leaving several
children, one of whom, Samuel, lived to the age
of ninety-four. His sect seems to have survived
him abont a century, as President Stiles, of Yale
College, remarks, in his manuscript diary on visit-
ing at Providence, November 18, 1771, Mr. John
Angell, aged eighty years : — " He is a Gortonist,
and the only one I have seen. Gorton lives now
only in him ; his only disciple left."

In addition to " Simplicitie's Defence," a tract
of one hundred and eleven pages quarto, which
was reprinted in 1647, and has also been repub-
lished in the second volume of the Transactions
of the Rhode Island Historical Society, Gorton
wrote a commentary on the one hundred and
tenth psalm, with the title of An Incorruptible
Key, composed of the ex. Psalm, wherewith you
may Open the rest of the Holy Scriptures, 1647,

pp. 240 ; Saltmarsh returned from the Dead, a
commentary on the General Epistle of James, 4to.
pp. 108; and An Antidote against th-e common
Plague of the World, a commentary on the de-
nunciations of the scribes and pharisees in the
twenty-third chapter of St. Matthew's Gospel.
A MS. commentary on chapter vi. 9-13 of the
same Gospel, in 130 folio pages, is preserved in
the library of the Rhode Island Historical Society.

EDWAED JOHNSON.
Edward Joiixson is supposed to have, emigrated
to New England with Governor Winthrop in
1630. He was a prominent man in the organiza-
tion of the town and church of Woburn in 1642,
was chosen its representative in 1 643, and annu-
ally re-elected, with the exception of the year
1648, until 1671. He held the office of recorder
of the town from its incorporation until his death
in 1682. His Wonder Working Providence of
Skin's Saviour, in New England, is a history of
the country " from the English planting in the
year 1628 until the year 1652." It was published
in London in 1654, and reprinted in the second
series of the Mass. Hist. Soc. Coll., where it forms
about 230 pages. It is somewhat rambling and
diffuse in style and matter, and contains a num-
ber of verses on various New England worthies,
of which the following, on Hooker, is an average
specimen.

Come, Hooker, come forth of thy native soil ;

Christ, I will run, says Hooker, thou hast set
My feet at large, here spend thy last day's toil ;

Thy rhetoric shall people's affections whet.

Thy golden tongue and pen Christ eausM to be
The blaziug of his golden truths profound,

Thou sorry worm, it's Christ wrought this in thee ;
What Christ hath wrought must needs be very
sound.

Then look on Hooker's works, they follow him
To grave, this worthy resteth there awhile :

Die shall he not that hath Christ's warrior been ;
Much less Christ's truth, cheer'd by his people's
toil.

Thou angel bright, by Christ for light now made;

Throughout the world as seasoning salt to be,
Although in dust thy body mouldering fade,

Thy Head's in heaven, and hath a crown for thee.

The opening of his preface is pithily expressed,

Good Reader : As large gates to small edifices, so
are long prefaces to little books; therefore I will
briefly inform thee that here thou shalt find the
time when, the manner hov, the cause why, and the
great success which it hath pleased the Lord to give
to this handful of his praising saints in N. Eng., cfec

JOHN ELIOT,

<ybiUn.

l^V/—

TnE " Apostle to the Indians," was born at
Nasing, County of Essex, England, in 1604, and
educated, like many of the early New England
divines, at Cambridge. He was afterwards usher
to Hooker in his grammar-school at Little Bad-
dow, near Chelmsford, Essex. He emigrated to
New England in 1631, arriving in Boston har-
bor on the ninth of November. He was soou

40

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE,

after followed by a young lady to -whom he had
been betrothed in England, and on her arrival
they were married. He had commenced preach-
ing before he left England, and had promised the
friends to whom he officiated that if they would
come to New England he would maintain the
same relation to them in the new as in the old
home. They did so, and settling at Roxbury
chose him as their pastor.

Eliot was intrusted, in company with Welde and
Eichard Mather, with the preparation of the
metrical version of the Psalms published in 1640,
and known as the " Old Bay Psalm Book."

In 1646 an order was passed requesting the
elders of the churches to take into consideration
the subject of the conversion of the Indians. Eliot,
who had some time before this commenced the
study of the Indian language with a native, " a
pregnant-witted young man," who could speak
English, and was especially interested in the race
from his belief that they were the long lost tribes
of Israel, came forward to respond to the call.
Notice was given of his intention, and on the 28th
of October, 1646, he proceeded with three others
to address for the first time in history, the North
American Indians on the subject of Christianity.
The text of his sermon delivered in English, and
translated sentence by sentence by an interpreter,
was from Ezekiel xxxvii. 9, 10.* It was anhour
and a quarter long, but listened to with attention
by its auditors. A conversation followed, in which
the Indians propounded several questions on the
topics of the discourse, and expressed a wish to
live together in a town.

A second assembly was held a fortnight after,
when Eliot addressed them in their own language.
Other meetings followed, and a settlement of
'• praying Indians," as they were styled, was form-
ed, called Nonantum. The Indians assembled,
lived in accordance with the instructions they had
received, and labored diligently for their subsist-
ence, under the instructions of their missionary,
who taught them the use of farming tools.

A second effort was made at Neponset, within
the town of Dorchester, and with similar success.
The Indians at Concord, Pawtucket, and on Cape
Cod, were also visited and addressed by Eliot.

Two tracts, Tlie Day Breaking, if not the
Sun Rising of the Gospel with the Indians in
New England,, by an anonymous author (proba-
bly the Rev. John "Wilson, "of Boston), and The
Clear Sunshine of the Gospel oreaking forth vpon
the Indians in New England, by the Eev. Tho-
mas Shepard, of Cambridge, were published in
England in 1647 and ft48. The accounts they
gave of these transactions were read with interest,
and an appeal was made to Parliament for aid in
the cause, which resulted in the formation in 1 640
of a corporation, " The President and Society for
the Propagation of the Gospel in New England."
Money was collected and transmitted to preachers
and teachers among the Indians. On the Resto-
ration, in 1660, the society was preserved from

* Then said he unto me. Prophesy unto the ■wind. Prophesy,
eon of maD, and say to the wind. Thus saith the Lord God ;
Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these
slain, that they may live.

So I prophesied as be commanded me. and the breath came
npon them, and tbey lived, and stood up upon their feet, an
exceeding great array.

extinction by the exertions of the Hon. Robert
Boyle, who was made its president. This distin-
guished man took a deep interest in Eliot's efforts.
He maintained a correspondence with him, por-
tions of which have been published in the collec-
tions of the Massachusetts Historical Society;
and by his influence obtained an annual stipend
of fifty pounds from the Society for the mission-
ary.

Meanwhile Eliot was instructing the Indians in
Christianity and civilization ; and in 1651, found-
ed the Indian town of Natick, eighteen miles
southwest of Boston. He framed laws for the
inhabitants, which were an exact copy of those of
the Pentateuch. In 1660, a church was formed,
and the Indian converts, having given sufficient
testimony of the sincerity of their faith to satisfy
the prudent and practical missionary, were admit-
ted to the Holy Communion.

In a letter written to Winslow, in 1649, Eliot
had expressed his desire to translate " some part
of the scriptures" into the Indian tongue. In
1651 we find by a letter written by him to Eng-
land, that he was engaged on the task, but with
" no hope to see the Bible translated, much les3
printed, in my days." He, however, kept steadily
at work, and the society in England supplying
funds, the New Testament in the Indian language,
commenced in 1658 at the first press set up in
the colony at Harvard, was published in Septem-
ber, 166L In 1663, the Old Testament was add-
ed to it, a catechism and translation of the Bay
Psalm Book being included in the volume. A.
dedication to the king was prefixed to the copies
sent to England, but to few of those circulated at
home.

This Bible was printed by Samuel Green and
Marmaduke Johnson, It was the first, and for
nearly a century after, the only version of the
Scriptures published in the colonies. A second
edition of the New Testament appeared in 16S0,
and of the Old in 1685. Two thousand copies
were printed of these, and fifteen hundred, it is
estimated, of the former editions. Eliot received
no remuneration for his labor, and contributed
from his small salary to defray the expense of
publication. The translation is written in a dia-
lect of the Mohegan tongue, which has long since
become extinct. The work has been of great
service to the students of the Indian languages,
and although it has proved, by the dispersion of
those for whom it was designed, of less practical
benefit than its author anticipated, it must ever be
honored as a monument of Christian zeal, patient
toil, and earnest scholarship.

Eliot published in 1664 a translation of Baxter's
Call to the Unconverted in the Indian language,
and in 1666 an Indian grammar. Several com-
munities of Christian Indians had been formed,
who were progressing satisfactorily in a life in
accordance with their profession, when an inter-
ruption occurred to their advance, which proved
eventually fatal to their existence. This was
King Philip's war. The "praying Indians"
suffered from the hatred of the red men, as well
as from the distrust of the white, and at the close
of the contest many of their communities had
been broken up.

Eliot had, throughout the whole period of his
Indian labors, retained his connexion with Rox-

JOHN ELIOT.

41

bury, and had also found time to prepare several
short religious treatises. He died at the age of
eighty-six, on the 20th of May, 1690.

Eliot's Indian grammar, and his letters to the
Hon. Robert Boyle, have been reprinted in the
Collections of the Massachusetts Historical Society.
His other writings are The Christian Common-
wealth, a treatise on government, framed from
the Scriptures for his Indian converts, which he
published in London in 1654, with a preface
recommending its adoption to the people of Eng-
land ;* The Communion of Churches ; or the
Divine Management of Gospel Churches by the
Ordinance of Councils, constituted in Order,
according to the Scriptures, a tract published in
1665 ; and a volume of one hundred and thirty-
one pages, published in 1678, entitled, The Har-
mony of the Gospels in the holy History of the
Humiliation and Sufferings of Jesus Christ, from
his Incarnation to his Death and Burial.

In addition to the translations already men-
tioned, he published in 1685 a version of the
" Practice of Piety," a popular devotional work,
written by Lewis Bayly, chaplain to James I., and
Bishop of Bangor, from 1616 to his death in
1632, and in 1688, of two tracts by Thomas
Shepard, "The Sincere Convert," and "The
Sound Believer." He also published an Indian
primer.

In his intercourse with his parishioners, and in
his private life, Eliot was remarkable for mild-
ness, meekness, and generosity. He combined
with the latter virtue a total forgetfulness of self,
and his household affairs would often have been
in sorry plight, had he not had a good wife who
shared his old age as she had his youth, to look
after them. She one day, by way of a joke,
pointing out their cows before the door, asked
him whose they were, and found that he did not
know. The treasurer of his church paying him
a portion of his salary on one occasion, tied the
coin in the pastor's pocket-handkerchief with
an abundance of knots, as a check to his free-
dom of disbursement in charity. On his way
home, the good man stopped to visit a destitute
family, and was soon tugging at the knots to get
at his money. Quickly growing impatient he
gave the whole to the mother of the family, say-
ing, " Here, my dear, take it ; I believe the Lord
designs it all for you." He showed an equally liberal
disregard of self in his dealings with his congre-
gation, proposing in place of the usual rate or tax
by which the clergy was supported, to depend for
his maintenance on the voluntary contributions of
his congregation, and towards the close of his life
suggested the appointment of an assistant, on
whom he offered to bestow his entire salary. His
congregation answered, that they would count his
very presence worth a salary, when he should be
so superannuated as to do no further service to
them.

The last years of his life were much occupied
with endeavors to promote education among the
negroes who had been introduced into the coun-
try. " He did not live," says Mather,t " to make
much progress in the undertaking."

* It is reprinted in tho third series of the Collections of the
Mass. Hist. Soc, volume ix.
t Mather's Magnalia,

Extremely simple and frugal in his personal
habits, though by no means ascetic, he opposed
violently the use of tobacco, and with Puritan
consistency, the wearing of long hair or of wigs.

Out of six children, but two survived him.
" My desire was," he said of the others, " that they
should have served God on earth ; but if God will
choose to have them rather serve him in heaven,
I have nothing to object against it, but his will
be done."

Eliot's life has been written by Convers Fran-
cis, in Sparks's American Biography, occupying an
entire volume of that series. Mather devotes
many pages of the Magnalia to the record of his
good words and works — pithily and quaintly
remarking of him, that "lie was a Boniface as
well as a Benedict," and gives us a report, " writ
from him as he uttered it," of one of his ser-
mons, " a paraphrase that I have heard himself
to make upon that Scripture, ' Our conversation
is in heaven."

Behold, said he, the ancient and excellent cha-
racter of a true Christian ; 'tis that which Peter
calls "holiness in all manner of conversation;" you
shall not find a Christian out of the way of godly
conversation. For, first, a seventh part of our
time is all spent in heaven, when we are duly
zealous for, and zealous on the Sabbath of God.
Besides, God has written on the head of the Sab-
bath, remember, which looks both forwards and
backwards, and thus a good part of the week will
be spent in sabbatizing. Well, but for the rest of
our time! Why, we shall have that spent in heaven,
ere we have done. For, secondly, we have many
days for both fasting and thanksgiving in our pil-
grimage; and here are so many Sabbaths more.
Moreover, thirdly, we have our lectures every week;
and pious people won't miss them, if they can help
it. Furthermore, fourthly, we have our private
meetings, wherein we pray, and sing, and repeat
sermons, and confer together about the things of
God; and being uow come thus far, we are in heaven
almost every day. But a little farther, fifthly, we
perform family-duties every day ; we have our
morning and evening sacrifices, wherein having
read the Scriptures to our families, we call upon
the name of God, and ever now and then carefully
catechise those that are under our charge. Sixthly,
we shall also have our daily devotions in our
closets; wherein unto supplication before the Lord,
we shall add some serious meditation upon his word :
a David will be at this work no less than thrice a
day. Seventhly, we have likewise many scores of
ejaculations in a day; and these we have, like Ne-
hemiah, in whatever place we come into. Eighthly,
we have our occasional thoughts and our occasional
talks upon spiritual matters ; and we have our occa-
sional acts of charity, wherein we do like the inha-
bitants of heaven every day. Ninthly, in our call-
ings, in our civil callings, we keep up heavenly
frames ; we buy and sell, and toil ; yea, we eat and
drink, with some eye both to the command and the
honor of God in all. Behold, I have not now left
an inch of time to be carnal ; it is all engrossed for
heaven. And yet, lest here should not be enough,
lastly, we have our spiritual warfare. We are
always encountering the enemies of our souls, which
continually raises our hearts unto our Helper and
Leader in the heavens. Let no man say, " 'Tis im-
possible to live at this rate;" for we have known
some live thus; and others that have written of
such a life have but spun a web out of their own
blessed experiences. New England has example of

42

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

this life: though, alas! 'tis to be lamented that the
distractions of the world, in too many professors, do
becloud the beauty of an heavenly conversation.
In fine, our employment lies in heaven. In the morn-
ing, if we ask, " Where am I to be to-day ?" our souls
must answer, " In heaven." In the evening, if we
ask, " Where have I been to-day?" our souls may
answer, " In heaven." If thou art a believer, thou
art no stranger to heaven while thou livest ; and
when thou diest, heaven will be no strange place to
thee; no, thou hast been there a thousand times
before.

Gookin, in his Historical Collections of the
Indians, gives this pleasing picture of Eliot's
teaching : —

Besides his preaching to them, he framed two
catechisms in the Indian tongue, containing the
principles of the Christian religion ; a lesser for
children, and a larger for older persons. These also
he communicated unto the Indians gradually, a few
questions at a time, according unto their capacity
to receive them. The questions lie propounded one
lecture day, were answered the next lecture day.
His manner was, after he had begun the meeting
with prayer, then first to catechise the children ;
and they would readily answer well for the gene-
rality. Then would he encourage them with some
small gift, as an apple, or a 6mall biscuit, which he
caused to be bought for the purpose. And, by this
prudence and winning practice, the children were
induced with delight to get into their memories the
principles of the Christian religion. After he had
done the children, then would he take the answers
of the catechetical questions of the elder persons ;
and they did generally answer judiciously. AVhen
the catechizing was past, he would preach to them
upon some portion of scripture, for about three
quarters of an hour; and then give liberty to the
Indians to propound questions, as I intimated before;
and in the close, finish all with prayer.

^«2> amti

Daniel Gookin, a native of Kent, in England,
was among the early settlers of Virginia, and in
1644 removed to Cambridge, in consequence of
his doctrinal sympathies with the New England
Puritans. He was soon appointed captain of the
military company of the town, and a member of
the House of Deputies. In 1652 he was elected
assistant or magistrate, and appointed in 1656 by
the General Court, superintendent of all the In-
dians who acknowledged the government of Mas-
sachusetts, an office he retained until his death.
In 1656 he visited England, and had an interview
with Cromwell, who authorized him to invite the
people of New England to remove to Jamaica,
then recently conquered from Spain. In 1662 he
was appointed one of the two licensers of the
Cambridge printing-press. His work, Historical
Collections of the Indians in New England,
bears date 1674. The breaking out of King
Philip's war soon after, led to the passage of
several measures against the Natick and other
Indians who had submitted to the English.
Gookin was the only magistrate who joined
Eliot in opposing these proceedings, and, conse-
quently, subjected himself to reproaches from his

fellow-magistrates and insult in the public streets.
He took an active part on the side of the people
against the measures which terminated in the
withdrawal of the charter cf the colony, in 1686.
He died the next year, so poor, that we find John
Eliot soon after soliciting a gift of ten pounds
from Eobert Boyle, for his widow.

There is an account of Gookin in the first vo-
lume of the Massachusetts Historical Collections,
appended to the reprint of his Collections of the
Indians — one of the most pleasing of the original
narratives of the aborigines.

It was by Eliot's influence that an attempt was
made to educate Indian youths with reference to
Harvard, which encouraged the work. The plan,
however, proved unsuccessful. The health of
some of the students failed, and the courage of
others ; a number fell oft' to different occupations.
The name of one graduate is on the catalogue of
the University, of the year 1665, "Caleb Chees-
hahteaumuck Indus." He soon afterwards died
of consumption. Gookin speaks of another, "a
good scholar and a pious man, as I judge,'' who,
within a few months of the time of taking his
degree, made a voyage to his relatives at Martha's
Vineyard, and was drowned by shipwreck or mur-
dered by the savages on his return. At a later
day, in 1714, an Indian student of Harvard,
named Larnel, spoken of as "an extraordinary
Latin poet and a good Greek one," died during
his college course.*

THOMAS SHEPAED.
Thomas Sbepaed, a writer whose reputation has
been among the most permanent of his brethren
of the early New England clergy, was born at
Towcester, near Northampton, England, in 1605,
and educated at Emanuel college, Cambridge.
On obtaining the degree of Master of Arts, he
became a preacher at Earls Coin, in Essex, where
a lecturti had been established by endowment for

'Jhtuuti) Sflepewi

three years. His services proved so acceptable
to the people, that at the expiration of the time
they raised a voluntary subscription for his sup-
port, and he remained among them until silenced
not long after for non-conformity.

After passing some time "with the kind family
of the Harlakendens,"| he removed to Butter-
crambe, near York, where he resided in the
family of Sir Richard Darby, whose daughter he
married, and preached in the neighborhood, until
again silenced. After a third attempt, at Hed-
don, in Northumberland^ with like result, he

* Mass. Hist. Soc. Col., First Series, i. 173. Quincy's Hist,
of Harvard, i. 444.

t These lectures were originally established by benevolent .
persons, as a provision for spiritual instruction in large or des-
titute parishes, to aid the established clergy, and in connexion
with the national church.

X The second son of Mr. Harlakenden, Roger, accompanied
Shepard to New England, settled with him at Cambridge, and
died at the eariy age of twenty-seven. " He was," says Win-
throp, "a very godly man, and of good use, both in the com-
monwealth and in the church. He was buried with military
honor, because he was lieutenant-colonel. He left behind a
virtuous gentlewoman and two daughters. He died in great
peace, and left a sweet memorial behind him of his piety and
virtue. Young's Chron. Mass. Bay, 51T.

§ According to Mather, he hired a house in this place which

THOMAS SHEPARD.

43

resolved to emigrate to New England. He em-
barked with Cotton at Yarmouth, at the close of
the year 1634. The vessel, encountering a storm
in Yarmouth roads, returned to port in a disabled
condition. Passing a few months in retirement,
he again sailed in July from Gravesend, "in a
bottom too decayed and feeble indeed for such a
voyage; but yet well accomodated with the
society of Mr. Wilson, Mr. Jones, and other
christians, which more significantly made good
the name of the ship, the Defence."* The vessel
sprang a leak, which was, however, got under,
and Mr. Shepard landed in New England on the
third of October. On the first of the following
February he succeeded Mr. Hooker as minister at
Cambridge, where he remained until his death, at
the early age of forty-four years, August 25th,
1649.

" The published composures of this laborious
person," to me Cotton Mather's phrase, were,
Theses Sabbat icce ; The Matter of the Visible
Church; The Church Membership of Little
Children; a letter entitled, New England's
Lamentation for Old England's Err ours ; several
sermons; The Sincere Convert; The Sound Be-
liever; and the Parable of the Ten Virgins
Opened, published after his death in a folio
volume. The two last mentioned of these works,
with his Meditations and Spiritual Experience,
and a treatise on Evangelical Conversion, have
been reprinted in England within the last quarter
of a century, in a popular form.

Shepard left an autobiography, which remained
unpublished until 1832, when it was printed for
the use of the Shepard Congregational Society at
Cambridge. It is also printed in the Chronicles
of the First Planters of the Colony of Massachu-
setts Bay, collected and edited by the Rev. Alex-
ander Young, where it occupies fifty-eight octavo
pages.

It is written in a simple, earnest style, and is
occupied in a great measure with an account of
his spiritual experiences, reminding us somewhat
of John Bunyan. He received the name of the
doubting Apostle, be tells us, because be was born
"upon the fifth day of November, called the
Powder Treason day, and that very hour of the
day wherein the Parliament should have been
blown up by Popish priests, which occasioned my
father to give me this name Thomas; because he
said, I would hardly believe that ever any such
wickedness should be attempted by men against
so religious and good a Parliament." Speaking of
his proposed removal to Coggeshall, he introduces
an anecdote of Thomas Hooker. " Mr. Hooker
only did object to my going thither; for being
but young and unexperienced, and there being an
old, yet shy and malicious minister in the town,
who did seem to give way to have it (the lecture)
there, did therefore say it was dangerous and un-
comfortable for little birds to build under the
nests of old ravens and kites."

?h ?,ft J5™ 'te"anted hl a wit«h, and performed prodigies in
SffiKP™ t ha',ff TSvS' aa he had P">™uslysilenced the
b£S3w "L bf" ^°"1DS at two °'c!ock at night at the Har-
lakenJer, homestead. Shepard himself says, "When we

Xltfh; ° D.01SeS four or flTe me?hts together we
hi 5S.S mby PIayer >-t0 remoTe so sore a tr'a|; and the Lord
* AI th 0S "nd rem0Ted the tr°oble "

One of the most noticeable passages of the
work is the account of the shipwreck off Yar-
mouth.

In the year 1634, about the beginning of the win-
ter, we set sail from Harwich. And having gone
some few leagues on to the sea, the wind stopped us
that night, and so we cast anchor in a dangerous
place, and on the morning the wind grew fierce, and
rough against us full, and drave us toward the sands.
But the vessel being laden too heavy at the head,
would not stir for all that which the seamen could
do, but drave us full upon the sands near Harwich
harbour; and the ship did grate upon the sands, and
was in great danger. But the Lord directed one
man to cut some cable or rope in the ship, and so
she was turned about, and was beaten quite back-
ward toward Yarmouth, quite out of our way.

But while the ship was in this great danger, a
wonderful miraculous providence did appear to us.
For, one of the seamen, that he might save the ves-
sel, fell in when it was in that danger, and so was
carried out a mile or more from the ship^aud given
for dead and gone. The ship was then in such daa-
ger, that none could attend to follow him ; and when
it was out of the danger, it was a very great hazard
to the lives of any that should take the skitf to seek
to find him. Yet it pleased the Lord, that being
discerned afar off floating upon the waters, three of
the seamen adventured out upon the rough waters,
and at last, about an hour after he fell into the sea
(as we conjectured), they came and found him float-
ing upon the waters, never able to swim, but sup-
ported by a divine hand all this while. When the
men came to him, they were glad to find him, but
concluded he was dead, and so got him into the
skiff, and when he was there, tumbled him down as
one dead. Yet one of them said to the rest, " Let
us use what means we can, if there be life, to pre-
serve it;" and thereupon turned his head downward
for the water to run out. And having done so, the
fellow began to gasp and breathe. Then they ap-
plied other means they had: and so he began at last
to move, and then to speak, and by that time he
came to the ship, he was pretty well, and able to
walk. And so the Lord showed us his great power.
Whereupon a godly man in the ship then said, " This
man's danger and deliverance is a type of ours; for
he did fear dangers were near unto us, and that yet
the Lord's power should be shown in saving of us."
For bo, indeed, it was. For the wind did drive us
quite backward out of our way, and gave us no
place to anchor at until we came unto Yarmouth
roads — an open place at sea, yet fit for anchorage,
but otherwise a very dangerous place. And so we
came thither through many uncomfortable hazards,
within thirty hours, and cast anchor in Yarmouth
roads. Which when we had done, upon a Saturday
morning, the Lord sent a most dreadful and terrible
storm of wind from the west, so dreadful that to this
day the seamen call it Windy Saturday ; that it also
scattered many ships on divers coasts at that time,
and divers ships were cast away. One among the
rest, which was the seaman's ship who came with us
from Newcastle, was cast away, and he and all his
men perished. But when the wind thus arose, the
master cast all his anchors ; but the storm was so
terrible, that the anchors broke, and the ship drave
toward the sands, where we could not but be cast
away. Whereupon the master cries out that we
were dead men, and thereupon the whole company
go to prayer. But the vessel still drave so near to
the sands, that the master shot off two pieces of ord-
nance to the town, for help to save the passengers.
The town perceived it, and thousands came upon

44

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

the Trails of Yarmouth, and looked upon us, hearing
we were New-England men, and pitied much, and
gave us for gone, because they saw other ships per-
ishing near unto us at that time ; but could not send
any help unto us, though much money was offered
by some to hazard themselves for us.

So the master not knowing what to do, it pleased
the Lord that there was one Mr. Cock, a drunken
fellow, but no seaman, yet one that had been at sea
often, and would come in a humor unto New Eng-
land with us ; whether it was to see the country, or
no, I cannot tell. But sure I am, God intended it
for good unto us, to make him an instrument to save
all our lives; for he persuaded the master to cut
down his mainmast. The master was unwilling to
it, and besotted, not sensible of ours and Mb own loss.
At lost this Cock calls for hatchets, tells the master,
" If you be a man, save the lives of your passengers,
cut down your mainmast." Hereupon he encou-
raged all the company, who were forlorn and hope-
less of life : and the seamen presently cut down the
mast aboard, just at that very time wherein we all
gave ourselves for gone, to see neither Old nor New
England, nor faces of friends any more, there being
near upon two hundred passengers in the ship.
And so when the mast was down, the master had
one little anchor left, and cast it out. But the ship
was driven away toward the sands still ; and the
6eamen came to us, and bid us look, pointing to the
place, where our graves should shortly be, conceiv-
ing also that the wind had broke off this anchor
also. So the master professed he had done what he
coidd, and therefore now desired us to go to prayer.
So Mr. Norton in one place, and myself in another
part of the ship, he with the passengers, and myself
with the mariners above decks, went to prayer, and
committed our souls and bodies unto the Lord that
gave them.

Immediately after prayer, the wind began to
abate, and the ship stayed. For the last anchor was
not broke, as we conceived, but only rent up with
the wind, and so drave, and was drawn along,
ploughing the sands with the violence of the wind ;
which abating after prayer, though still very terri-
ble, the ship was stopped just when it was ready to
be swallowed up of the sands, a very little way
off from it. And so we rid it out ; yet not without
fear of our lives, though the anchor stopped the
ship ; because the cable was let out) so far, that a
little rope held the cable, and the cable the little
anchor, and the little anchor the great ship, in this
great storm. But when one of the company per-
ceived that we were so strangely preserved, had
these words, " That thread we hang by will save us ;"
for so we accounted of the rope fastened to the an-
chor in comparison of the fierce storm. And so
indeed it did, the Lord showing his dreadful power
towards us, and yet his unspeakable rich mercy to
us, who, in depths of mercy, heard, nay, helped us,
when we could not cry through the disconsolate
fears we had, out of these depths of seas, and miseries.

Shepard's wife contracted a consumption in
consequence of exposure during the stormy pas-
sage in a crazy vessel across the Atlantic, and
died a few years after their arrival. He married
a second wife, a daughter of Thomas Hooker, and
the autobiography closes with a beautiful and pa-
thetic eulogy on her mild virtues.

In 1645 Shepard published a brief tract, New
England's Lamentations for Old England's Er-
rors* from which we quote a passage on tolera-
tion:

VIEWS OF TOLEEATION.

To cut off the hand of the magistrate from touch-
ing men for their consciences (which you also men-
tion), will certainly, in time (if it get ground), be
the utter overthrow, as it is the undermining, of the
Reformation begun. This opinion is but one of the
fortresses and strongholds of Sathan, to keep his head
from crushing by Christ's heel, who (forsooth), be-
cause he is crept into men's consciences, and because
conscience is a tender thing, no man must here med-
dle with him, as if consciences were made to be the
safeguard of sin and error, and Sathan himself, if
once they can creep into them. As for New Eng-
land, we never banished any for their consciences,
but for sinning against conscience, after due means
of conviction, or some other wickedness which they
had no conscience to plead for ; they that censure
New England for what they have done that way,
should first hear it speak before they condemn. We
have magistrates, that are gracious and zealous ; we
have ministers, that are aged and experienced, and
holy and wise ; no man was yet ever banished from
us, but they had the zeal and care of the one, the
holiness, learning, and best abilities of the other,
seeking their good before they were sent from the
coasts. And when they have been banished, as they
have had warrant from the word, so God from hea-
ven hath ever borne witness, by some strange hand
of his providence against them, either delivering
them up to vile lusts and sins, or to confusion amongst
themselves, or to some sudden and terrible deaths,
for their obstinacy against the light, and means used
to heal their consciences. I could tell you large
stories (if need were) of these things.

BOGEB CLAP.

b&frs* qCoo^

* Xew England's Lamentation for Old England's present er-

Ohe of the most touching memorials of the New
England worthies, is the simple narrative of Cap-
tain Roger Clap of Dorchester, which he prepared
for the benefit of his children. The incidents it
contains are few, but the manner in which it re-
flects the spirit of the time makes it valuable as
an historical document, while it is far from being
without claims to attention in a literary point of
view. Roger Clap was horn at Sallom, Devon-
shire, in 1609, emigrated to Massachusetts in
1630, settled at Dorchester, served in the Peqnot
war, and died in 1691. He had a large family,
who bore the genuine Puritan names of Samuel,
"William, Elizabeth, Experience, "Waitstill, Pre-
served, Hopestill, "Wait, Thanks, Desire, Thomas,
Unite, and Supply. His manuscript "Memoirs''
were first published by the Rev. Thomas Prince,
the antiquarian, in 1731, and have been five times
reprinted, the last impression having been issued
by the Dorchester Historical Society, in a duo-
decimo volume.

NEW ENGLAND EETEOSPECT.

In those days God did cause his people to trust in
him, and to be contented with mean things. It was

rours and divisions, and their feared future desolations, if not
timely prevented ; occasioned by the increase of Anabaptists,
Bigid Separatists, Antinomians, and Familists ; together with
some seasonable remedies against the infection of those errours,
prescribed in A Letter, sent from Mr. Thomas Shepard, some-
time of Immanuel College, in Cambridge, and now Minister of
the Gospel in Cambridge, in New England, to a godly friend of
his in Burrs, in Suffolk. London, printed by George Miller,
1645.

NATHANIEL MORTON; PETER BULKLEY; JOSIAH WINSLOW.

45

not accounted a strange thing in those days to drink
■water and to eat samp or hominy without butter
or milk. Indeed it would have been a strange thing
to see a piece of roast beef, mutton, or veal ; though
it was not long before there was roast goat. After
the first winter, we were very healthy; though
Borne of us had no great store of corn. The Indians
did sometimes bring corn, and truck with us for
clothing and knives ; and once I had a peck of corn
or thereabouts, for a little puppy-dog. Frost fish,
muscles, and clams were a relief to many. If our
provision be better now than it was then, let us not
(and do you, dear children, take heed that you do
not) forget the Lord our God. You have better
food and raiment than was in former times, but have
you better hearts than your forefathers had ? If so,
rejoice in that mercy, and let New England then
shout for joy. Sure all the people of God in other
parts of the world, that shall hear that the children
and grandchildren of the first planters of New
England have better hearts, and are more heavenly
than their predecessors ; they will doubtless greatly
rejoice, and will say, This is the generation whom
the Lord hath blessed.

And now, dear children, I know not the time of
my death ; my time is in God's hands ; but my age
shows me it cannot be far o/f. Therefore while I
am in health and strength, I tho't good to put into
writing and leave with you, what I have desired in
my heart, and oftentimes expressed to you with my
tongue.

NATHANIEL MORTON— PETEE BULKLEY-JOSLAH
WINSLOW— EDWARD BULKLEY— SAMUEL STONE-
JONATHAN MITCHELL-JOHN SHEEMAN^JOSHUA
SCOTTOW.

Nathaniel Morton was born in the north of
England in 1612. His father, George Morton
emigrated to Plymouth with his family in 1623
and died the following year. Nathaniel was
elected Clerk of the Colonial Court in 164-5, and
held the office until his death, in 1685.

The colony records show him to have been a
faithful and capable officer, and he is said to have
been equally estimable in all the other relations
of life. His New England's Memorial ; or, a
brief Relation of the most memorable and re-
markable Passages of the Providence of God,
manifested to the Planters of New England in
America; with special reference to the First
Colony thereof called New B&ymouth, published
for the use and benefit of present and future
generations, was published at Cambridge in
1669, a second edition in 1721, and three others
have since appeared, the last in 1826, with a
large body of valuable notes by the Hon. John
Davis. The work is arranged in the form of annals,
commencing with the departure of the Pilgrims
from England, and closing with the date of pub-
lication. Apart from Ms honorable position, as
the first historian of the country, Secretary Mor-
ton possesses some claim-*, from the purity and
earnestness of his style, to favorable notice*

Secretary Morton has preserved much of the
contemporary poetry of his time by the insertion
of the elegies, written by their fellows on the
worthies whose deaths he has occasion to record
in the progress of Ms annals — a practice wMch
was also followed by Mather. Two of these —

the Mies on Hooker by Cotton, and part of the
tribute to Cotton by Woodbridge — have been
already given. We add a few other specimens,
with brief accounts of their authors.

There is an Elegy on Hooker, by Peter Bulk-
lev. After twenty-one years' service in the
English Church, he was silenced for non-confor-
mity, and came to Cambridge, in New England,
in 1635. The following year he founded the
town of Concord, where he remained until his
death, in 1659. He published several sermons,
and some brief Latin poems.

A LAMENTATION FOR TITE DEATH OF THAT PRECIOUS AND WOR-
THY MINISTER OF JESUS CHRIST, MR. THOMAS HOOKER, WHO
DIED JULY 7, 1647, AS THE SUN WAS SETTING. THE SAME
HOUR OF THE DAY DIED BLESSED CALVIN, THAT GLORIOUS
LIGHT.

* * * *

Let Hartford sigh, and say, I've lost a treasure ;

Let all New England mourn at God's displeasure,

In taking from us one more gracious

Than is the gold of Ophir precious.

Sweet was the savour which his grace did give,

It season'd all the place where he did live.

His name did as an ointment give its smell,

And all bear witness that it aavour'd well.

Wisdom, love, meekness, friendly courtesy,

Each moral virtue, with rare piety,

Pure zeal, yet mixt with mildest clemency,

Did all conspire in this one breast to lie.

Deep was his knowledge, judgment was acute,

His doctrine solid, which none could confute.

To mind he gave light of intelligence,

And search'd the corners of the conscience.

To sinners stout, which no law could bring under,

To them he was a son of dreadful thunder,

When all strong oaks of Bashan us'd to quake,

And fear did Lebanus his cedars shake ;

The stoutest hearts he filled full of fears,

He clave the rocks, they melted into tears.

Yet to sad souls, with sense of siu cast down,

He was a son of consolation.

Sweet peace he gave to such as were contrite;

Their darkness sad he turn'd to joyous light.

Of preacMug he had learn' d the Tightest art,

To every one dividing his own part.

Each ear that heard him said, He spake to me .-

So piercing was his holy miuistry.

His life did shine, time's changes stain'd it not,

Envy itself could not there find a spot.

Josiah Winslow celebrates Governor Bradford.
Winslow was the first Governor born in New
England. He was annually chosen in the Ply-
mouth colony, from 1678 to 1680. In King
Philip's war he was commander of the Plymouth
forces, and did good service in the field. He died
at Marshfield in 1680.

BY THE HONOURED MAJOR JOSLAS WTNBLOW, ON MR. WILUAM
BRADFORD, AS FOLLOWElTi:

If we should trace him from the first, we find
| He flies his country, leaves his friends behind,
i To follow God, and to profess his ways,
[ And here encounters hardships many days.

He is content, with Moses, if God please,
Renouncing honour, profit, pleasure, ease,
To suffer tossings, and unsettlements,
And if their rage doth rise, to banishments.

He weighs it not, so he may still preserve
His conscience clear, and with God's people serve
Him freely, 'cording to his mind and will,
If not in one place, he'll go forward still.

46

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

If God have work for him in th' ends of th' earth,
Safe, danger, hunger, colds, nor any dearth;
A howling wilderness, nor savage men,
Discourage him, he'll follow God again.

And how God hath made him an instrument
To us of quiet, peace and settlement ;
I need not speak ; the eldest, youngest know,
God honour'd him with greater work than so.

To sum up all, in this he still went hence,
This man was wholly God's ; his recompense
Remains beyond expression, and he ia
Gone to possess it in eternal bliss.

He's happy, happy thrice : unhappy we
That still remain more changes here to see:
Let's not lament that God hath taken him
From troubles hence, in seas of joys to swim.

The death of Samuel Stone introduces Edward,
the son of Peter Bulkley, just mentioned. Ho
succeeded his father in his pastoral charge at Con-
cord.

Samuel Stone was born at Hartford, England,
educated at Cambridge, and came to Plymouth
in the same ship with Cotton and Hooker. He
accompanied the latter to Hartford, which was
named after his native place, where he acted as
his associate for fourteen years, and for sixteen
more as his successor. The latter part of his life
was embittered by a dispute between himself and
the ruling elder on a speculative point of divinity,
which led to a division of the church. He printed
a sermon and left behind him two works in MS.,
one of which was a body of divinity, " a rich
treasure," says Cotton Mather, which " has often
been transcribed by the vast pains of our candi-
dates for the ministry." Neither has been
printed.

A TnRENODIA UPON OUR CHURCnES SECOND DARK ECLIP6E,
HAPPENING JULY 20, 1663, BY DEATH'S INTERPOSITION BE-
TWEEN US AND THAT GREAT LIGHT AND DIVINE PLANT, MR.
SAMUEL STONE.

A stone more than the Ebenezer fam'd ;

Stone splendent diamond, right orient named ;

A cordial stone, that often cheered hearts

With pleasant wit, with Gospel rich imparts ;

Whetstone, that edgify'd th' obtusest mind ;

Loadstone, that drew the iron heart unkind ;

A pond'rous stone, that would the bottom sound

Of Scripture depths, and bring out Arcan's found ;

A stone for kingly David's use so fit,

As would not fail Goliah's front to hit;

A stone, an antidote, that brake the course

Of gangrene errour, by convincing force ;

A stone acute, fit to divide and square ;

A squared stone became Christ's building rare.

A Peter's living, lively stone (so rear'd)

As 'live, was Hartford's life ; dead, death is fear'd.

In Hartford old, Stone first drew infant breath,

In New, effus'd his last : 0 there beneath

His corps are laid, near to his darling brother,

Of whom dead oft he sigh'd, Not such another.

Heaven is the more desirable, said he,

For Hooker, Shepard, and Hat/nes' company.

E. B. (probably Edward Bulkley).

These lines, remarkable for their quaint simpli-
city, on John Wilson, are attributed to Jonathan
Mitchell, a graduate of Harvard of 1 647, and the
successor of Shepard at Cambridge in 1650. He
died in 1668, at the age of forty-four.

UPON THE DEATH OP THAT REVEREND, AGED, EVER HONOURED.
AND GRACIOUS SERVANT OF CHRIST, MR. JOHN "WILSON.

Ah ! now there's none who does not know,

That this day in our Israel,
Is fall'n a great and good man too,

A Prince, I might have said as well :
A man of princely power with God,

For faith and love of princely spirit ;
Our Israel's chariots, horsemen good,

By faith and prayer, though not by merit,
Renown'd for practick piety

In Englands both, from youth to age;
In Cambridge, Inns-Court, Sudbury,

And each place of his pilgrimage.
As humble as a little child,

When yet in real worth high-grown:
Himself a nothing still he stil'd,

When God so much had for him done.
In love, a none-such ; as the sand,

With largest heart God did him fill,
A bounteous mind, an open hand,

Affection sweet, all sweet'ning still.
Love was his life; he dy'd in love;

Love doth embalm his memory ;
Love is his bliss and joy, above

With God now who is love for ay :
A comprehending charity

To all, where ought appear'd of good ;
And yet in zeal was none more high

Against th' apparent serpent's brood.
*******
Gaius, our host, ah now is gone !

Can we e'er look for such another ?
But yet there is a mansion,

Where we may all turn in together.
No moving inn, but resting place,

Where his blest soul is gathered ;
Where good men going are a pace

Into the bosom of their Head.
Ay, thither let us haste away,

Sure heaven will the sweeter be,
(If there we ever come to stay)

For him, and others such as he.

Mitchell, in his turn, is soon commemorated by
John Sherman, a non-conformist emigrant from
England, who officiated at Watertown and New
Haven as a clergyman, and took an active part as
civil magistrate. He was a mathematician, and
published for many years an Almanac, well gar-
nished with moral reflections. He was married
twice, and was the father of twenty-six children.
He died at the age of sixty-two, in 1675.

AN EPITAPH UPON TnE DEPLORED DEATH OF THAT SUPEEEMI-
NENT MINISTER OF THE GOSPEL, MR. JONATHAN MITCHELL.

Here lies the darling of his time,

Mitchell expired in his prime ;

Who four years short of forty-seven,

Was found full ripe and pluck'd for heaven.

Was full of prudent zeal and love,

Faith, patience, wisdom from above ;

New-England's stay, next age's story ;

The churches gem; the college glorj\

Angels may speak him ; ah ! not I,

(Whose worth s above Hyperbole)

But for our loss, wer't in my power,

I'd weep an everlasting shower. J. S.*

J. S. has also been supposed to refer to Joshua
Scottow, a merchant of Boston. The only

* Guided bv those initials only, we are inclined to attribute
the lines to which they are annexed, to the liev. John Sherman,
(Davis's note.)

ANNE BRADSTREET.

47

dates known in reference to his life, are those of
his admission to church membership in the Old
Church, Boston, on " the nineteenth of the third
month," 1639, with his brother Thomas, as the
" sonnes of our sister Thomasine Scottowe," the
record of the birth of seven of his children, the
eldest of whom was born, September 30, 1646;
the date of his will, June 23, 16y6 ; and of its
probate, March 3, 1698. His name is, however,
of frequent recurrence in the town records, and
he appears to have maintained throughout his
long life an honorable position.

He was the author of Old Men's fears for
their own declensions, mixed with fears of their
and posterities further falling off from New
England's Primitive Constitution. Published
by some of Boston's old Planters, and some other.
1691. pp. 26. It contains a vigorously written
presentation of what the writer regarded as the
degeneracy of his times.

HEW ENGLAND'S DECLINE.

Our spot is not the spot of God's children ; the
old Puritan garb, and gravity of heart, and habit
lost and ridiculed into strange and fantastic fashions
and attire, naked backs and bare breasts, and fore-
head, if not of the whorish woman, yet so like unto
it, as would require a more than ordinary spirit of
discernment to distinguish ; the virgins dress and
matrons veil, showing their power on their heads,
because of the holy angels, turned into powdered
foretops and top-gallant attire, not becoming the
Christian, but the comedian assembly, not the
church, but the stage play, where the devil sits
regent in his dominion, as he once boasted out of
the mouth of a demoniack, church member, he there
took possession of, and made this response to the
church, supplicating her deliverance ; so as now we
may and must say, New England is not to be found
in New England, nor Boston in Boston ; it is become
a lost town (as at first it was called) ; we must now cry
out, our leanness, our leanness, our apostacy, our
apostacy, our Atheism, spiritual idolatry, adultery,
formality in worship, carnal and vain confidence
in church privileges, forgetting of God our rock,
and multitude of other abominations.

Thh tract was reprinted, with the omission of
the address to the reader, by D. Gookin, in 1749.
In 1694, A Narrative of the Planting of the
Massachusetts Colony, Anno 1628, with the Lord's
signal presence the first Thirty years. Also a
caution from New England's Apostle, the great
Cotton, how to escape the calamity, which might
befal them or their posterity, and confirmed by
the evangelist Norton, with prognostics from the
famous Dr. Owen, concerning the fate of these
Churches, and Animadversions upon the anger of
Cod in sending of evil angels among us. Pub-
lished by Old Planters, the authors of the Old
Men's Fears, a pamphlet of seventy-eight pages,
appeared, much in the style of the author's former
productions*

ANNE BEADSTEEET.

It is with a fine flourish of his learned trump of
fame that Cotton Mather, in his Magnalia, intro-
duces Anne Bradstreet, who wrote the first vo-
lume of poems published in New England. "If

* Memoirs of Scottow, Mass. Hist. Soc. Coll., Second Series,
iv. 10.

the rare learning of a daughter was not the least
of those bright things which adorned no less a

Judge of England than Sir Thomas More ; it must
now be said, that a Judge of New England, name-
ly, Thomas Dudley, Esq., had a daughter (besides
other children) to be a crown unto him. Reader,
America justly admires the learned women of the
other hemisphere. She has heard of those that
were witnesses to the old professors of all philo-
sophy : she hath heard of Hippatia, who formerly
taught the liberal arts; and of Sarocchia, who,
more lately, was very often the moderatris in the
disputations of the learned men of Rome : she
has been told of the three Corinnas, which equal-
led, if not excelled, the most celebrated poets of
their time : she has been told of the Empress Eu-
docia, who composed poetical paraphrases on va-
rious parts of the Bible ; and of Rosnida, who
wrote the lives of holy men ; and of Paraphilia,
who wrote other histories unto the life : the writ-
ings of the most renowned Anna Maria Schur-
man, have come over unto her. But she now
prays that into such catalogues of authoresses as
Beverovicius, Hottinger, and Voetius, have given
unto the world, there may be a room now given
unto Madam Ann Bradstreet, the daughter of our
Governor Dudley, and the consort of our Governor
Bradstreet, whose poems, divers times printed,
have afforded a grateful entertainment unto the
ingenious, and a monument for her memory be-
yond the stateliest marbles."

Thomas Dudley, the father of this gifted lady,
had been a soldier of the Protestant wars of Eli-
zabeth in the Low Countries, and afterwards re-
trieved the fortunes of the Earl of Lincoln by his
faithful stewardship of his estates. He came
over to Massachusetts with a party of Puritan re-
fugees, among whom was his son-in-law, Simon
Bradstreet, from the Earl's count}-, in 1630; and
four years afterwards, succeeded Winthrop as Go-
vernor of the Colony. In addition to his various
valorous and religious qualities, he would appear
from an Epitaph, of which Mather gives us a
poetical translation, to have been something of a
book-worm.

In books a prodigal, they say ;
A living cyclopaedia ;
Of histories of church and priest,
A full compendium, at least;
A table-talker, rich in sense,
And witty without wit's pretence.

So that the daughter may have inherited some
of her learning. Morton, in his " Memorial," has
preserved these lines by Dudley, found in his
pocket after his death, which exhibit the severity
of his creed and practice.

Dim eyes, denf ears, cold stomach shew
My dissolution is in view ;
Eleven times seven near lived have I,
And now God calls, I willing die:
My shuttle's shot, my race is run,
My sun is set, my deed is done ;
Mjr span is measured, tale is told,
My flower is faded and grown old,
My dream is vanished, shadow's fled,

4S

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

My soul with Christ, my body dead ;
Farewell dear wife, children, and friends,
Hate heresy, make blessed ends ;
Bear poverty, live with good men,
So shall we meet with joy again.

Let men of God in courts and churches watch,

O'er such as do a toleration hatch ;

Lest that ill egg bring forth a cockatrice,

To poison all with heresy and vice.

If men be left, and otherwise combine,

My epitaph's, / dy'd no libertine.

The cares of married life would not appear to
have interrupted Mistress Bradstreet's acquisi-
tions, for she was married at the age of sixteen,
and her poetry was written in the early part of
her life. As she had eight children, and ad-
dressed herself particularly to their education,*
the cradle and tie Muse must have been competi-
tors for her attention. Her reading, well stuffed
with the facts of ancient history, was no trifle for
the memory ; but we may suppose the mind to
have been readily fixed on books, and even pe-
dantic learning to have been a relief, where there
were no diversions to distract when the household
labors of the day were over. Then there is the
native passion for books, which will find its own
opportunities. The little volume of her poems,
published in London, in 1 650, is entitled The Tenth
Muse, lately sprung up in America ; or, Several
Poems, compiled with great variety of wit and
learning, full of delight: wherein especially is
contained a complete Discourse and, Description
of the Four Elements, Constitutions, Ages of
Man, Seasons of the Year. Together with an
Exact Epitome of the Four Monarchies, viz., the
Assyrian, Persian, Grecian, Roman. Also a Dia-
logue between Old England and New concerning
the late troubles, with divers other pleasant and
serious Poems. By a Gentlewoman in those parts.
A more complete edition was published in Boston
in 16T8, which contains her Contemplations, a
moral and descriptive poem, the best specimen of
her pen; The Flesh and the Spirit, a dialogue,
and several poems on family incidents, left among
her private papers.

The formal natural history and historical topics,
which compose the greater part of her writings,
are treated with doughty resolution, but without
much regard to poetical equality. The plan is
simple. The elements of the world, fire, air,
earth, and water ; the humors of the constitution,
the choleric, the sanguine, the melancholy, and
phlegmatic ; childhood, youth, manhood, and age ;
spring, summer, autumn, and winter, severally
come up and say what they can of themselves, of
their powers and opportunities, good and evil,
with the utmost fairness. The four ancient mo-
narchies are catalogued in a similar way. It is
not to be denied, that, if there is not much poetry
in these productions, there is considerable infor-
mation. For the readers of those time3 they con-

* She records the number in the posthumous lines In Refer-
ence to her Children. 23d June, 1656 :

I bad eight birds hatch't in the nest ;

Four cocks there were, and hens the rest;

I nurst them up with pain and care,

For cost nor labor did I spare.

Till at the last they felt their wing,

Mounted the trees, and learned to sing.
There are two pages more in continuation of this simile.

tained a very respectable digest of the old histo-
rians, and a fair proportion of medical and scien-
tific knowledge. It is amusing to see this mother
in Israel writing of the Spleen with the zest of an
anatomist.

If any doubt this truth, whence this should come,
Show them the passage to the duodenum.

The good lady must have enjoyed the perusal
of Phineas Fletcher's Purple Island, a dissecting
theatre in a book, which appeared in 1683. Her
descriptions are extremely literal. She writes as if
under bonds to tell the whole truth, which she does
without any regard to the niceties or scruples of
the imagination. Thus her account of childhood
begins at the beginning somewhat earlier than a
modern poetess would tax the memory of the
muse ; and she thinks it necessary to tell us in her
account of winter, how,

Beef, brawn and pork, are now in great'st request,
And solid'st meats our stomachs can digest

When we come upon any level ground in these
poems, and are looking round to enjoy the pros-
pect, we may prepare ourselves for a neighboring
pitfall. In " Summer" we set forth trippingly
afield — ■

Now go those frolic swains, the shepherd lad,

To wash their thiek-cloth'd flocks, with pipes full

In the cool streams they labor with delight,
Rubbing their dirty coats, till they look white.

With a little more taste our poetess might have
been a happy describer of nature, for she had a
warm heart and a hearty view of things. The
honesty of purpose which mitigates her pedantry,
sometimes displays itself in a purer simplicity.
The account of the flowers and the little bird in
Spring might find a place in the sincere, delicate
poems of Dana, who has a family relationship
with the poetess.

The primrose pale, and azure violet,
Among the verdurous grass hath nature set,
That when the sun (on's love) the earth doth shine,
These might, as love, set out her garments fine ;
The fearful bird his little house now builds,
In trees, and walls, in cities, and in fields;
The outside strong, the inside warm and neat,
A natural artificer complete.

In the historic poems, the dry list of dynasties
is sometimes relieved by a homely unction and
humor in the narrative, as in the picture of the
progress of Alexander and the Persian, host of
Darius — though much of this stuff is sheer dog-
greL as in the Life and Death of Semiramis :

She like a brave virago play*d the rex,
And was both shame and glory of her sex.
*******

Forty-two years she reign'd, and then she dy'd.
But by what means, we are not certified.

If sighs for " imbecility" can get pardon for bad
verses, we should think only of Mrs. Bradstreet's
good ones — for her poems are full of these depre-
catory acknowledgments.

The literary father of Mrs. Bradstreet was
Silver-tongued Sylvester, whose translation of Du
Bartas was a popular book among Puritan readers

ANNE BRADSTREET.

49

at the beginning of the seventeenth century.
His quaint volumes, which will be remembered
as favorites with Southey's simple-minded Dr.
Daniel Dove, were both poetical and devout ; and
if they led our author's taste astray, they also
strengthened her finest susceptibilities. She has
left a warm poem " in his honor," in which there
is an original and very pretty simile.

My Muse unto a child, I fitly may compare,
Who sees the riches of some famous fair ;
He feeds his eyes, but understanding lacks,
To comprehend the worth of all those knacks ;
The glittering plate, and jewels, he admires,
The hats and fans, and flowers, and ladies' tires ;
And thousand times his 'mazed mind doth wish
Some part, at least, of that brave wealth was his ;
But seeing empty wishes nought obtain,
At night turns to his mother's cot again.
And tells her tales (his full heart over glad)
Of all the glorious sights his eyes have had :
But finds too soon his want of eloquence,
The silly prattler speaks no word of sense ;
And seeing utterance fail his great desires,
Sits down in silence.

Nathaniel Ward, the author of the Simple
Cobbler of Agawam, in some comic fetches pre-
fixed to the poems, says : —

The Authoresse was a right Du Bartas girle.

Mrs. Bradstreet was also a reader of Sir Philip
Sidney's Arcadia, which she has characterized
with more minuteness than others who have
written upon it, in an Elegy which she penned
forty-eight years after the fall of that mirror of
knighthood at Zutphen.

Ann Bradstreet died lGth September, 1072, at
the age of sixty. That she had not altogether
survived her poetical reputation In England, is
shown by an entry in Edward Phillips's (the
nephew of Milton) TJicatrum Poctarvm, in 1674,
where the title of her Poems is given, and their
memory pronounced "•not j'et wholly extinct."
A third edition, reprinted from the second, ap-
peared in 1758.

CONTEMPLATIONS.

Some time now past in the Autumnal Tide,

When Phcebus wanted but one hour to bed,
The trees all richly chid, yet void of pride,
Were gilded o'er by his rich golden head.
Their leaves and fruits scem'd painted, but was true
Of green, of red, of yellow, mixed hew,
Wrapt were my senses at this delectable view.

I wist not what to wish, yet sure thought I,

If so much excellence abide below ;
How excellent is He, that dwells on high!

Whose power and beauty by his works we know.
Sure he is goodness, wisdome, glory, light,
That hath this under world so richly dight:
More heaven than earth was here, no winter and no
night.

Then on a stately oak I cast mine eye,

Whose ruffling top the clouds seem'd to aspire;

[low long since thou wast in thine infancy?
Thy strength, and stature, more thy years admire.

Hath hundred winters past since thou wast born?

Or thousands since thou brak'st thy shell of horn.

If so, all these as nought, eternity doth scorn.
VOL. I.— 4

Then higher on the glittering sun I gaz'd,

Whose beams were shaded by the leavie trae,

The more I look'd, the more I grew amaz'd,
And softly said, what glory's like to thee ?

Soul of this world, this Universe's eye,

No wonder, some made thee a deity ;

Had I not better kaowa (alas), the same had I.

Thou as a bridegroom from thy chamber rushest,

And as a strong man, joyes to run a race,
The morn doth usher thee, with smiles and blushes.

The earth reflects her glances in thy face.
Birds, insects, animals with vegetive,
Thy heart from death and dulness doth revive :
And in the darksome womb of fruitful nature dive.

Thy swift annual, and diurnal course,

Thy daily straight, and yearly oblique path,
Thy pleasing fervor, and thy scorching force,

All mortals here the feeling knowledge hath.
Thy presence makes it day, thy absence night,
Quaternal seasons caused by thy might:
Hail creature, full of sweetness, beauty and delight.

Art thou so full of glory, that no eye

Hath strength, thy shining rayes once to bsholc.
And is thy splendid throne erect so high <

As to approach it, can no earthly mould.
How full of glory thea must thy Creator be,
Who gave this bright light luster unto thee!
Admir'd, ador'd for ever, be that Majesty.

Silent alone, where none or saw, or heard.
In pathful paths I lead my wandering feet,

My humble eyes to lofty skyes I rear'd

To sing some song, my mazed Muse thought meet.

My great Creator I would magnifie,

That nature had thus decked liberally :

But Ah, and Ah, agaiu my imbecility ! i

I heard the merry grasshopper then sing,
The black clad cricket, bear a seco:id part,

They kept one tune, and plaid oa the same string,
Seeming to glory in their little art.

Shall creatures abject, thus their voices raise?

And in their kind resound their maker's praise :

Whilst I as mute, can warble forth no higher layei.

When present times look back to ages past,

And men in being fancy those are deid,
It makes things gone perpetually to last,

And calls back months and years that long since
fled.
It makes a man more aged ia conceit,
Than was Methuselah, or's grand-sire great ;
While of their persons and their acts his mind doth
treat.

Sometimes in Eden fair he seems to be,

Sees glorious Adam there made Lord of all,

Fancyes the Apple, dangle on the Tree,
That turn'd his Sovereign to a naked thral.

Who like a miscreant's driven from that place.

To get his bread with pain, and sweat of face:

A penalty impos'd on his backsliding race.

Here sits our Grandame in retired place,

And in her lap, her bloody Cain new born,
The weeping imp oft looks her in the face,

Bewails his unknown hap, and fate forlorn ;
His mother sighs, to think of Paradise,
And how she lost her bliss, to be more wise,
Believing him that was, and is, Father of lyes.

| Here Cain and Abel come to sacrifice.

Fruits of the earth, and failings each do bring;

: On Abel's gift the fire descends from skies,
But no such sign on false Cain's offering ;

50

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

"With sullen hnteful looks he goes his wayes.
Hath thousand thoughts to end his brother's dayes,
Upon whose blood his future good he hopes to
raise.

There Abel keeps his sheep, no ill he thinks,
His brother comes, then acts his fratricide,
The Virgin Earth, of blood her first draught drinks,

But since that time she often hath been cloy'd;
The wretch with ghastly face and dreadful mind,
Thinks each he sees will serve him in his kind,
Though none on Earth but kindred near then could
he find.

Who fancyes not his looks now at the bar,

His face like death, his heart with horror fraught,

Nfor male-factor ever felt like war,

When deep despair, with wish of life hath fought,

Branded with guilt, and crusht with -treble woes,

A vagabond to Land of Nod he goes,

A city builds, that walls might him secure from
foes.

Who thinks not oft upon the Fathers ages,

Their long descent, how nephew's sons they saw,

The starry observations of those Sages,

And how their precepts to their Bons were law.

How Adam sigh'd to see his progeny,

Clothed all in his black sinfull livery,

Who neither guilt, nor yet the punishment could

Our Life compare we with their length of dayes,

Who to the tenth of theirs doth now arrive ?
And though thus short, we shorten many ways,

Living so little while we are alive ;
In eating, drinking, sleeping, vain delight,
So unawares comes on perpetual night,
And puts all pleasures vain unto eternal flight.

When I behold the heavens as in their prime,

And then the earth (though old) still clad in
green,
The stones and trees, insensible of time,

Nor age nor wrinkle on their front are seen ;
If winter come, and greenness then do fade,
A Spring returns, and they more 3"outhful made ;
But Man grows old, lies down, remains where once
he's laid.

By birth more noble than those creatures all,

Yet seems by nature and by custome cursed,
No sooner born, but grief and care make fall

That state obliterate he had at first
Nor youth nor strength, nor wisdom spring again,
Nor habitations long their names retain,
But in oblivion to the final day remain.

Shall I then praise the heavens, the trees, the earth,
Because their beauty and their strength last
longer?

Shall I wish their, or never to had birth,

Because they're bigger, and their bodyes stronger?

Nay, they shall darken, perish, fade and dye,

And when unmade, so ever shall they lye,.

But man was made for endless immortality.

Under the cooling shadow of a stately elm

Close sate I by a goodly River's side,
Where gliding streams the rocks did overwhelm ;

A lonely place, with pleasures dignified.
I once that lov'd the shady woods so well,
Now thought the rivers did the trees excell,
And if the sun would ever shine, there would I
dwell.

While on the stealing stream I fixt mine eye,
Which to the long'd-for Ocean held its course,

I markt nor crooks, nor rubs that there did lye
Could hinder aught, but still augment its force:

0 happy Flood, quoth I, that hold'st thy race
Till thou arrive at thy beloved place,

Nor is it rocks or shoals that can obstruct thy pace.

Nor is't enough, that thou alone may'st slide,
But hundred brooks in thy clear waves do meet,

So hand in hand along with thee they glide
To Thetis' house^ where all embrace and greet:

Thou Emblem true, of what I count the best,

Oh could I lead my Rivulets to rest,

So may we press to that vast mansion, ever blest.

Ye Fish which in this liquid region 'bide,

That for each season, have your habitation,
Now salt, now fresh, where you think best to glide,

To unknown coasts to give a visitation,
In lakes and ponds, you leave 3'our numerous fry,
So nature taught, and yet you know not why,
You watry folk that know not your felicity.

Look how the wantons frisk to taste the air,

Then to> the colder bottom straight they dive,
Eftsoon to Neptune's glassie Hall repair

To see what trade the great ones there do drive,
Who forage o'er the spacious sea-green field,
And take the trembling prey before it yield,
Whose armour is their scales, their spreading fins
their shield.

While musing thus with contemplation fed,
And thousand fancyes buzzing in my brain,

The sweet tongued Philomel percht o'er my head,
And chanted forth a most melodious strain

Which rapt me so with wonder and delight,

1 judg'd my hearing better than my sight,

And wisht me wings with her a while to take my
flight.

0 merry Bird (said I) that fears no snares,

That neither toyles nor hoards up in thy barn, ,
Feels no sad thoughts, nor eruciating cares

To gain more good, or shun what might thoe
harm ;
Thy cloaths ne'er wear, thy meat is every where,
Thy bed a bough, thy drink the water clear,
Reminds not what is past, nor what's to come do3t
fear.

The dawning morn with songs thou dost prevent,
Sets hundred notes unto thy feather'd crew,

So each one tunes his pretty instrument,
And warbling out the old, begins anew,

And thus they pass their youth in summer season,

Then follow thee into a better region,

Where winter's never felt by that sweet airy legion.

Man's at the best a creature frail and vain,

In knowledge ignorant, in strength but weak:
Subject to sorrows, losses, sickness, pain,

Each storm his state, his mind, his body break:
From some of these he never finds cessation,
But day or night, within, without, vexation,
Troubles from foes, from friends, from dearest,
near'st relation.

And yet this sinful creature, frail and vain,

This lump of wretchedness, of sin and sorrow,
This weather-beaten vessel wreckt with pain,

Joyes not in hope of an eternal morrow :
Nor all his losses, crosses and vexation,
In weight, in frequency and long duration
Can make him deeply groan for that divine Transla
tioix

The Mariner that on smooth waves doth glide,
Sings merrily, and steers his barque with ease,

As if he had command of wind and tide,
And now become great Master of the seas ;

ANNE BRADSTREET.

51

But suddenly a storm spoils all the sport,
And makes him long for a more quiet port,
Which 'gainst all adverse winds may serve for fort.

So he that saileth in this world of pleasure,
Feeding on sweets, that never bit of th' sowre,

That's full of friends, of honour and of treasure,
Fond fool, he takes this earth ev'n for heav'n's
bower.

But sad affliction comes and makes him see

Here's neither honour, wealth, nor safety ;

Only above is found all with security.

0 Time the fatal wrack of mortal things,
That draws oblivion's curtains over kings,

Their sumptuous monuments, men know them not,

Their names without a Record are forgot,
Their parts, their ports, their pomp's all laid in th'

dust,
Nor wit, nor gold, nor buildings 'scape time's rust ;
But he whose name is graved in the white stone
Shall last and shine when all of these are gone.

OLD AGE RECOUNTS TJIE niSTORT OF TIIE PURITAN PEEIOD
— FROM THE FOUR AGES OF MAN.

"What you have been, ev'n such have I before,
And all you say, say I, and something more;
Babe's innocence, Youth's wildness I have seen,
And in perplexed middle-age have bin ;
Sickness, dangers, and anxieties have past,
And on this Stage have come to act my last :

1 have bin young, and strong, and wise as you,
But now, Bis pueri series, is too true ;

In every Age I've found much varietie,

An end of all perfection now I see.

It's not my valour, honour, nor my gold,

My ruin'd house, now falling can uphold ;

It's not my Learning, Rhetoric, wit so large,

Now hath the power, Dentil's Warfare to discharge ;

It's not my goodly house, nor bed of down,

That can refresh, or ease, if Conscience frown ;

Nor from alliance now can I have hope,

But what I have done well, that is my prop ;

He" that in youth is godly, wise, and sage,

Provides a staff for to support his age ;

Great mutations, some joyful, and some sad,

In this short Pilgrimage I oft have had ;

Sometimes the Heavens with plenty smil'd on me,

Sometimes again, rain'd all adversity;

Sometimes in honour, and sometimes in disgrace,

Sometimes an abject, then again in place.

Such private changes oft mine eyes have seen,

In various times of state I've also been.

I've seen a kingdom flourish like a tree,

When it was rul'd by that celestial she ;

And like a cedar, others to surmount,

That but for shrubs they did themselves account ;

Then saw I France, and Holland saved, Cales won,

And Philip, and Albertus, half undone ;

I saw all peace at home, terror to foes,

But ah, I saw at last those eyes to close ;

And then, methought, the world at noon grew dark,

When it had lost that radiant sun-like spark,

In midst of griefs, I saw some hopes revive

(For 'twas our hopes then kept our hearts alive),

I saw hopes dasht, our forwardness was shent,

And silene'd we, by Act of Parliament.

I've seen from Rome, an execrable thing,

A plot to blow up Nobles, and their King ;

I've seen designs at Ru, and Cades crost,

And poor Palatinate for ever lost ;

I've seen a Prince, to live on others' lands,

A Royal one, by alms from subjects' hands,

I've seen base men, advane'd to great degree,

And worthy ones, put to extremity :

But not their Prince's love, nor state so high ;
Could once reverse their shameful destiny.
I've seen one stabb'd, another lose his head ;
And others fly their Country, through their dread.
I've seen and so have ye, for 'tis but late,
The desolation of a goodly State,
Plotted and acted, so that none can tell,
Who gave the counsel, but the Prince of hell.
I've seen a land unmoulded with great pain,
But yet may live to see't made up again :
I've seen it shaken, rent, and soak'd in blood,
But out of troubles, ye may see much good.
These are no old wives' tales, but this is truth ;
We old men love to tell what's done in youth.

ALEXANDER MEETS DARIUS — FROM THE FOUR MONARCHIES OP
THE WORLD.

And on he goes Darius for to meet;
Who came with thousand thousands at his feet,
Though some there be, and that more likely, write,
He but four hundred thousand had to fight,
The rest attendants, which made up no less;
(Both sexes there) was almost numberless.
For this wise King had brought to see the sport ;
Along with him, the Ladies of the Court.
His mother old, beauteous wife, and daughters,
It seems to see the Macedonian's slaughters.
Sure it's beyond my time, and little art,
To shew, how great Darius play'd his part;
The splendor, and the pomp, he marched in,
For since the world, was no such pageant seen.
Oh, 'twas a goodly sight, there to behold
The Persians clad in silk, and glitt'ring gold ;
The stately Horses trapt, the launces gilt,
As if they were now all to run at tilt:
The Holy fire, was borne before the Host
(For Sun and Fire the Persians worship most);
The Priests in their strange habit follow after ;
An object not so much of fear, as laughter.
The King sat in a chariot made of gold,
With Robes and Crown, most glorious to behold.
And o'er his head, his golden gods on high,
Support a parti-coloured canopy.
A number of spare horses next were led,
Lest he should need them, in his chariot's stead.
But they that saw him in this state to lye,
Would think he neither thought to fight nor fly,
He fifteen hundred had like women drest,
For so to fright the Greeks he judg'd was best.
Their golden Ornaments so to set forth,
Would ask more time, than were their bodies worth.
Great Sisigambis, she brought up the Rear;
Then such a world of Wagons did appear,
Like several houses moving upon wheels:
As if she'd drown, whole Sushan at her heels.
This brave Virago, to the King was mother;
And as much good she did, as any other.
Now lest this Gold, and all this goodly stuff,
Had not been spoil, and booty rich enough,
A thousand Mules, and Camels ready wait,
Loaden with gold, with jewels and with plate,
For sure Darius thought, at the first sight,
The Greeks would all adore, and would none fight.
I But when both armies met, he might behold,
I That valour was more worth than pearls, or gold.
And how his wealth serv'd but for baits failure,
Which made his over-throw more fierce ami sure.
i The Greeks come on, and witli a gallant grace,
Let fly their arrows in the Persian's face;
The Cowards feeling this sharp stinging charge,
Most basely run, ami left their King at large,
Who from his golden coach is glad t'alight,
And cast away his crown, for swifter flight;
Of late, like some immoveable he lay.
Now finds both legs, and horse, to run away ;

52

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

Two hundred thousand men that day were slain,
And forty thousand prisoners also tane ;
Besides, the Queens, and Ladies of the Court,
If Curtius be true, in his report.

THE FLESH AN3> THE SPIRIT.

In secret place where once I stood
Close by the banks of Saerirn flood,
I heard two sisters reason on
Things that are past and things to come.
One Flesh was called, who had her eye
On worldly wealth and vanity ;
The other spirit, who did rear
Her thoughts into a higher sphere:
Sister, quoth Flesh, what liv'st thou on,
Nothing but meditation ?
Doth contemplation feed thee so
Regardlessly to let earth go?
Can speculation satisfy,
Nation without reality ?
Dost dream of things beyond the moon
And dost thou hope to dwell there soon?
Hast treasures there laid up in store,
That all in th' world thou couut'st but poor J
Art fancy sick or turn'd a sot
To catch at shadows which are not ?
Come, come, I'll show unto thy sense,
Industry hath its recompense.
"What canst desire, but thou mayst see
The substance in variety ?
Dost honor like? acquire the same,
As some, to their immortal fame :
And trophies to thy name erect,
Which "wearing time shall ne'er deject.
For riches dost thou long full sore ?
Behold enough of precious store ;
Earth hath more silver, pearls, and gold.
Than eyes can see or hands can hold.
Affect'st thou pleasure? take thy fill.
Earth hath enough of what you will.
Then let not go what thou may'st find
For things unknown, only in mind.
jSpvBe still, thou unregen'rate p:irt,
Disturb no more my settled heart,
For I have vow'd (and so will do)
Thee as a foe still to pursue ;
And combat thee with will, and must
Until I see thee laid in th' dust.
Sisters we are, yea, twins we be,
Tet deadly feud 'twixt thee and me ;
For from one father are we not,
Thou by old Adam wast begot ;
But my arise is from above,
Whence my dear father I do love.
Thou speak'st me fair, but hat'st me sore,
Thy flatt'ring shows I'll trust no more.
How oft thy slave hast thou me made.
When I believ'd what thou bast said,
And never had more cause of woe
Than when I did what thou bad'st do.
ITl stop my cars at these thy charms,
And count them for my deadly harms.
Thy sinful pleasures I do hate,
Thy riches are to me no bate,
Thy honors do nor will I love,
For my ambition lies above.
My greatest honour it shall be,
When I am victor over thee,
And triumph shall, with laurel head.
When thou my captive shalt be led :
How I do live thou need'st not scoff.
For I have meat thou know'st not of;
The hidden manna I do eat,
The word of life.it is my meat.
My thoughts' do yield me more content

Than can thy hours in pleasure spent.

Nor are they shadows which I catch,

Nor fancies vain at which I snatch ;

But reach at things that are so high

Beyond thy dull capacity ;

Eternal substance I do see,

With which enriched I would be ;

Mine eye doth pierce the heavens, and see

What is invisible to thee.

My garments are not silk nor gold,

Nor such-like trash which earth doth hold,

But royal robes I shall have on,

More glorious than the glist'ning sun ;

My crown not diamonds, pearls, and gold,

But such as angels' heads infold.

The city where I hope to dwell,

There's none on earth can parallel ;

The stately walls, both high and strong,

Are made of precious jasper stone;

The gates of pearl, both rich and clear,

And angels are for porters there ;

The streets thereof transparent gold,

Such as no eye did e'er behold ;

A christal river there doth run,

Which doth proceed from the Lamb's throne:

Of life there are the waters sure,

Which shall remain for ever pure ;

Nor sun, nor moon, they have no need,

For glory doth from God proceed:

No candle there, nor yet torch light,

For there shall be no darksome night.

From sickness and infirmity,

For evermore there shall be free,

Nor withering age shall e'er come there,

But beauty shall be bright and clear;

This city pure is not for thee,

For things unclean there shall not be;

If I of heaven may have my fill

Take thou the world, and all that "will.

PETEE FOLGEE.

Peter Folger, the maternal grandfather of Ben-
jamin Franklin, and only child of John Folger,
came to America with his father from Norwich, '
England, in 1635, at the age of eighteen. They
settled soon after their arrival at Martha's Vine-
yard, where John died in 1660, leaving a widow,
Meribell, who was living in 1663.

Peter married, in 1644, Mary Morrell, an inmate
in the family of the celebrated Hugli Peters, who
is said to have been a fellow-passenger of the
Folgers in their voyage to America. In 1663 he
removed to Nantucket, and was among the first
settlers of that island. He was one of five com-
missioners to lay out land, a task for which he
was well qualified by his knowledge of surveying;
and the words of the ordef prove the estimation
in which he was held in the community, it being
therein stated, that " whatsoever shall be done by
them, or any three of them, Peter Folger being
one, shall be accounted legal and valid."

He learned the language of the Indians, and
was of much service as an interpreter. The aid
rendered by him in this manner to the Rev.
Thomas Mayhew, the Indian missionary at
Martha's Vineyard, is thus recorded by Thomas
Prince in his account of that good and able man,
the ancestor of the great Dr. Mayhew of the
Revolution.

" He had," says Prince, " an able and godly
Englishman, named Peter Folger, employed in
teaching the youth in reading, writing, and the

PETER FOLGER.

gf

principles of religion by catechizing; being Mell
learned likewise in the Scriptures, and capable of
helping them in religious matters." A long letter
to his son-in-law, Joseph Pratt, is a further proof
of his familiarity with the Scriptures, and with
religious topics, and he is said to have occasionally
preached. He died in 1090, and his wife in 1704.
They had two sons and seven daughters, the
youngest of whom, Abiah, was Franklin's mother.

A few lines in the autobiography of his grand-
son, have buoyed up Peter Folger into immor-
tality as an author. " I was born at Boston, in
New England. My mother, the second wife,
was Abiah Folger, daughter of Peter Folger, one
of the first colonists of New England, of whom
Cotton Mather makes honourable mention, in his
Ecclesiastical History of that province, as a pious
and learned Englishman, if I rightly recollect his
expressions. I have been told of his having
written a variety of little pieces ; but there ap-
pears to be only one in print, wdiich I met with
many years ago. It was published in the year
1675, and is in familiar verse, agreeably to the
tastes of the times and the country. The author
addresses himself to the governors for the time
being, speaks for liberty of conscience, and in
favour of the anabaptists, quakers, and other sec-
taries, who had suffered persecution. To this
persecution he attributes the wars with the
natives, and other calamities which afflicted the
country, regarding thein as the judgments of God
in punishment of so odious an offence, and he
exhorts the government to the repeal of laws so
contrary to charity. The poem appeared to be
written with a manly freedom and a pleasing
simplicity."

The outbreaks of opinion and half-framed utter-
ances of the Nantucket surveyor, were to be
clarified, in the third generation, into the love of
liberty and the clear-toned expression of the
essayist, philosopher, and patriot. The ti tie of Fol-
ger's poem is, A Looking-glass for the Times, or
the Former Spirit of New England revived, in
this generation. It was reprinted in 1763.
Copies of it are very rare. "We are indebted for
the one from which we have reprinted, to a MS.
copy in possession of Mr. Bancroft.

A LOOKING-GLASS FOR TI1E TIMES, OR THE FORMER SPIRIT OF
NEW ENGLAND REVIVED IN THIS GENERATION.

Let all that read these verses know,
That I intend something to show
About our war, how it hath been
And also what is the chief sin,
That God doth so with us contend
And when these wars are like to end.
Read them in love ; do not despise
What here is set before thine eyes.

New England for these many years

hath had both rest and peace,
But now the case is otherwise;

our troubles doth increase.

The plague of war is now begun

in some great colonies,
And many towns are desolate

we may see with our eyes.

The loss of many goodly men

we may lament also,
Who in the war have lost their lives,

and fallen by our foe.

Our women also they have took

and children very small,
Great cruelty they have used

to some, though not to all.

The enemy that hath done this,

are very foolish men,
Yet God doth take of them a rod

to punish us for sin.

If we then truly turn to God,

He will remove his ire.
And will forthwith take this his rod.

And cast it into fire.

Let us then search, what is the sin

that God doth punish for ;
And when found out, cast it away

and ever it abhor.

Sure 'tis not chiefly for those sins,

that magistrates do name,
And make good laws for to suppress,

and execute the same.

But 'tis for that same crying sin,

that rulers will not own,
And that whereby much cruelty

to brethren hath been shown.

The sin of persecution

such laws established,
By which laws they have gone so far,

as blood hath touched blood.

It is now forty years ago,

since some of them were made,

Which was the ground and rise of all
the persecuting trade.

Then many worthy persons were

banished to the woods,
Where they among the natives did,

lose their most precious bloods.

And since that, many godly men,

Have been to prison sent,
They have been fined, and whipped also.

and suffered banishment

The cause of this their suffering

was not for any sin,
But for the witness that they bare

against babe sprinkling.

Of later time there hath been some

men come into this land,
To warn the rulers of their sins

as I do understand.

They call on all, both great and small,

to fear God and repent;
And for their testimonies thus

they suffer a punishment

Yea some of them they did affirm,

that they were sent of God,
To testify to great and small

that God would send his rod.

Against those colonies, because
they did make laws not good ;

And if those laws were not repealM
the end would be in blood.

And though that these were harmless men,

and did no hurt to any,
But lived well like honest men,

as testified by many;

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CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

Yet did these laws entrap them set
that they were put to death, —

And could not have the liberty
to speak near their last breath.

But these men were, as I have heard,

against our College men ;
And this was, out of doubt to me,

that which was most their sin.

They did reprove all hirelings,

with a most sharp reproof,
Because they knew not how to preach

till sure of means enough.

Now to the sufferings of these men

I have but gave a hint ;
Because tbat in George Bishop's* book

you may see all in print.

But may we know the counsellors

that brought our rulers in
To be so guilty as they are,

of the aforesaid sin ?

They were the tribe of ministers,

as they are said to be,
Who always to our magistrates

must be the eyes to see.

These are the men that by their wits

have spun so fair a shred,
That now themselves and others are

of natives in a dread.

What need is there of such a fear

if we have done no ill?
But 'tis because that we have been

not doing of God's wilL

When Cain had slain his brother, then

began this fear to be,
That every man would do to him

the same that did him see.

The Scripture doth declare the cause
why Cain did kill his brother ;

It was because the deeds of one
was good, and not the other.

Because that God did favor show

to Abel more than he,
That was in verity the thing

that envy could not see.

Then let us all, both great and small,
take heed how we do fight

Against the spirit of the Lord,
which is our highest light.

Let Magistrates and ministers

consider what they do :
Let them repeal those evil laws

and break those bands in two

* George Bishop, a Qnaker, published "New England
judged, not by man's but by the Spirit of the Lord, and the
sum Eealed up of New England's persecutions; being a brief
relation of the sufferings of the Quakers in that part of America,
from the beginning of the fifth month, 1656, to the end of the
tenth month, 1660; wherein the cruel whippings and scourg-
ings, bonds and imprisonments, and burning in the hand, and
cutting off of ears, banishment upon pain of death, and put-
ting to death, &c. are shortly touched." 1661. A second part
appeared in 1667, and both were reprinted in 1703, with "An
Answer to Cotton Mather's Abuses in his late History of New
England, by John Whiting, with an Appendix."

Bishop joined the Quakers in 1654. lie was the author of
several works on the doctrines of the sect to which he belong-
ed, published at intervals from 1660 to 1668.

Which have been made as traps and snares

to catch the innocents,
And whereby it has gone so far

to acts of violence.

I see you write yourselves in print,

the Balm of Giletvd ;
Then do not act as if you were

like men that are half mad.

If you can fieal the land, what is

the cause things are so bad ?
I think instead of that, you make

the hearts of people sad.

Is this a time for you to press,

to draw the blood of those
That are your neighbours and your friend? !

as if you had no foes.

Yea, some there are, as I have heard,

have lately found out tricks
To put the cause of all the war

upon the heretics,

Or rather on some officers,

that now begin to slack
The execution of those laws,

whose consequence is black.

I do affirm to you, if that

be really your mind,
You must go turn another leaf,

before that peace you find.

Now, loving friends and countrymen,

I wish we may be wise,
'Tis now a time for every man

to see with his own eyes.

'Tis easy to provoke the Lord

to send among us war,
'Tis easy to do violence,

to envy, and to jar.

To show a spirit that is high,

to scorn and domineer ;
To pride it out, as if there were

no God to make us fear ;

To covet what is not our own,

to cheat and to oppress,
To live a life that might free us

from acts of Righteousness;

To swear and lie, and to be drunk,

to backbite one another ;
To carry tales that may do hurt

and mischief to our brother I

To live in such hypocrisy,

as men may think us good,
Although our hearts within are full

of evil and of blood.

All these and many evils more

are eas3T for to do :
But to repent, and to reform,

we have no strength unto.

Let us then seek for help from God,

and turn to him that smite:
Let us take heed that at no time

we sin against our light.

Let's bear our testimony plain

against sin in high and low ;
And see that we no cowards be,

to hide the light we know

PETER FOLGEK.

55

When Jonathan is called to court,

shall we as standers by,
Be still and have no word to speak,

but suffer him to die !

If that you say you cannot help,

things will be as they are;
I tell you true, 'tis plain and clear,

those words may come from fear.

That you shall lose some carnal things,

if you do speak for God;
And here you go the nearest way

to taste deep of his rod.

Tis true there are some times, indeed,

of silence to the meek ;
Not ever, for the Lord doth say,

there is a time to speak.

Be vigilant then for to see

the movings of your heart,
And you will know right well the time

when you shall act your part

I would not have you for to think,

tho' I have wrote so much,
That I hereby do throw a stone

at magistrates, as such.

The rulers in the country, I

do own them in the Lord ;
And such as are for government,

with them I do accord.

But that which I intend hereby,
is, that they would keep bounds,

And meddle not with God's worship,
for which they have no ground.

And I am not alone herein,
there's many hundreds more,

That have for many years ago
spake much upon that score.

Indeed I really believe,

it's not your business
To meddle with the Church of Christ

in matters more or less.

There's work enough to do besides,
to judge in mine and thine :

To succor poor and fatherless,
that is the work in fine.

And I do think that now you find

enough of that to do ;
Much more at such a time as this,

as there is war also.

Indeed I count it very low,

for people in these days,
To ask the rulers for their leave

to serve God in his ways.

I count it worse in magistrates

to use the iron sword,
To do that work which Christ alone

will do by his own word.

The Church may now go stay at home.

there's nothing for to do;
Their work is all cut out by law,

and almost made up too.

Now, reader, least you should mistake,

in what I said before
Concerning ministers, I think

to write a few words more.

I would not have you for to think

that I am such a fool,
To write against learning, as such,

or to cry down a school

But 't is that Popish college way,

that I intend hereby,
"Where men are inew'd up in a cage;

fit for all villainy.

But I shall leave this puddle stuff

to neighbours at the door,
That can speak more unto such things,

upon a knowing score.

And now these men, though ne'er so bad.

when they have learn'd their trade,
They must come in and bear a part,

whatever laws are made.

I can't but wonder for to see

our magistrates and wise,
That they sit still and suffer them

to ride on them, not rise.

And stir them up to do that work,
that Scripture rule there wants,

To persecute and persecute

those that they judge are saints.

There's one thing more that I believe

is worse than all the rest,
They vilify the Spirit of God,

and count school learning best.

If that a boy hath learn'd his trade,

and can the Spirit disgrace,
Then he is lifted up on high,

and needs must have a place.

But I shall leave this dirty stuff,

and give but here a hint,
Because that you have Cradock's book.*

and may see more in print.

There are some few, it may be, that

are clear of this same trade ;
And of those men, I only say,

these verses are not made.

Now for the length of time, how long

these wars are like to be,
I may speak something unto that,

if men will reason see.

The Scripture doth point out the time,

and 'tis as we do chuse,
For to obey the voice of God,

or else for to refuse.

The prophet Jeremy doth say,
when war was threat'ned sore,

That if men do repent and turn,
God will afflict no more.

But such a turning unto God,

as is but verbally,
When men refuse for to reform,

it is not worth a fly.

* " Gospel Liberty, in the Extensions and Limitations of it,"
Lond. 1646, 4to„ by Walter Cradnck, is probably tho work re-
ferred to. Another Cradock, Samuel, a non-conformist divine,
born 1620, died 1706, however, published " Gospel Liberty:
; his Glad Tidings from Heaven :" no date. Both were the
authors of a number of sermons and religious works.

56

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

Tis hard for you, as I do hear,

though you be under rod,
To say to Israel, Go, you,

and serve the Lord your God.

Though you do many prayers make,

and add fasting thereto,
Yet if your hands be full of blood,

all this will never do.

The end that God doth send his sword,

is that we might amend,
Then, if that we reform aright,

the war will shortly end.

New England they are like the Jews,

as like as like can be ;
They made large promises to God,

at home and at the sea.

They did proclaim free Liberty,

they cut the calf in twain,
They part between the part thereof,

O this was all in vain.

For since they came into this land,

they floated to and fro,
Sometimes, then, brethren may be free,

while hence to prison go.

According as the times to go,

and weather is abroad,
So we can serve ourselves sometimes

and sometimes serve the Lord.

But let us hear what God doth say,

to such backsliding men,
That can with ease to break their vows,

and soon go back again. Jek. 34.

He saith he will proclaim for them,

a freedom to the sword,
Because they would not fear him so.

as to obey his word.

This liberty unto the sword,

he hath proclaimed for us,
And we are like to feel it long,

if matters do go thus.

'Tis better for our magistrates,

to shorten time, I say,
By breaking of those bands in two

that look an evil way.

You do profess yourselves to be

men that do pray always,
Then do not keep such evil laws,

as may serve at wet days.

If that the peace of God did rule,

with power in our heart,
Then outward war would flee away,

and rest would be our part.

If we do love our brethren,

and do to them, I say,
As we would they should do to us,

we should be quiet straightway.

But if that we a smiting go,

of fellow -servants so,
No marvel if our wars increase

and things so heavy go.

'Tis like that some may think and say,

our war would not remain,
If so be that a thousand more

of natives were but slain.

Alas ! these are but foolish thoughts,

God can make more arise,
And if that there were none at all.

he can make war with flies.

It is the presence of the Lord,

must make our foes to shake,
Or else it's like he will e'er long

know how to make us quake.

Let us lie low before the Lord,

in all humility,
And then we shall with Asa see

our enemies to fly.

But if that we do leave the Lord,

and trust in fleshly arm,
Then 'tis no wonder if that we

do hear more news of harm.

Let's have our faith and hope in God, ,

and trust in him alone,
And then no doubt this storm of war

it quickly will be gone.

Thus, reader, I, in love to all,

leave these few lines with thee,
Hoping that in the substance we

shall very well agree.

If that you do mistake the verse

for its uncomely dress,
I tell thee true, I never thought

that it would pass the press.

If any at the matter kick,

it's like he's galled at heart,
And that's the reason why he kicks,

because he finds it smart.

I am for peace, and not for war,

and that's the reason why
I write more plain than some men do.

that use to daub and lie.

But I shall cease and set my name

to what I hero insert,
Because to be a libeller,

I hate it with my heart.

From Sherbon* town, where now I dwell,

my name I do put here,
Without offence your real friend.

it is Peter Folgek.
April 23, 16*76.

WILLIAM HUBBAED.
"William Hubbaud was born in 1621, and was of
the first class who graduated from Harvard in
1042. He became minister of Ipswich,t where he

was visited in 1686 by John Dunton,* who gives
a good account of his hospitality, amiability, and

* Nantucket.

+ "The Life and Errors of John Dunton,citi7x>n of London/*
a De Boe-ish sort of book, published in lYt'K The author was
a bookseller whose humor it was to describe his fellow trad-
ers, customers, and lady visitors — an odd mixture (as in Defoe)
of piety and Jove-making. In 1686, he visited Boston with a
venture of books, Puritan stock, which sold well. He describes
the Mathers atiri others. From his account, gallantry was
greatly in vogue in the old Puritan metropolis. His descrip-
tions of the ladies are highly amusing.

MICHAEL WIGGLESWORTH.

57

acquirements. He published a Narrative of the
troubles with the Indians from 1607 to 1677,
and a number of sermons ; and died Sept. 14,
170-1. He wrote a History of New England, for
which the state paid him £50, and which was
used by Mather, Hutchinson, who states that it
was "of great use" to him, and other writers. It
is said to have been saved from the Haines in the
attack on Governor Hutchinson's house, by Dr.
Andrew E. Eliot, and was presented by his son to
the Massachusetts Historical Society, by whom it
was finally printed in 1815. It comprises the his-
tory from the discovery of the country to the
year 1680.

MICHAEL WIGGLESWOETU.
Michael Wig&lbswoeth was, in his day, one of
the most successful of our early writers. lie was
born about 16-31, and after completing his studies
at Harvard, in 1651, appointed a tutor in the col-
lege. He soon after " made his remove to Meldon,"
where he was ordained, and remained a "faithful
pastor, for about a jubilee of years together."
Frequent attacks of illness to which his slight
constitution disposed him, for he was, as one of his
friends informs us, in a preliminary address to the
Day of Doom, " a little feeble shadow of a man,"
forced him occasionally to suspend his pulpit ex-
ertions. These intervals were, however, marked
by a change rather than cessation of labor, as
during them he composed his " Day of Doom" and
other poems. Notwithstanding his weak frame,

he lived to the good old age of seventy-four,
dying in the year 1705. Cotton Mather wrote
his funeral sermon, and the following

THE EXCELLENT WIGGLESWORTH REMEMBERED BY SOME GOOD
TOKENS.

His pen did once meat from the eater fetch,
And now he's gone beyond the eater's reach.
His body once so thin, was next to none ;
From hence, he's to unbodied spirits flown.
Once his rare skill did all diseases heal,
And he does nothing now uneasy feeL,
He to his paradise is joyful come,
And waits with joy to see his day of Doom.

Wigglesworth was the author of The Bay of
Boom, or a Poetical Bescription of the Great and
Last Judgment, with a short Biscourse about
Eternity, and Meat out of the Eater, or Medita-
tions concerning the necessity, end, and usefulness
of Afflictions unto God's Children; all tending
to prepare them for, and comfort them under the
Cross. Both are small volumes, and went
through several editions. The second is the
rudest in versification, and contains some amus-
ing examples of incongruous though familiar il-
lustration.

We must not on the knee

Be always dandled,

Nor must we think to ride to Heaven

Upon a feather-bed.

We soon are surfeited

With strong delicious matter.

And, therefore, God who knows our frame,

Mingleth our wine with water.

Meat out of the Eater, is divided into a number
of sections of some ten or twelve eight-line stan-
zas each. Its style is in general quaint and harsh,
but passages occasionally occur like the following,
which possess high merit.

Soldier, be strong, who fightest

Under a Captain stout ;
Dishonour not thy conquering Heal

By basely giving out.

Endure a while, bear up,

And hope for better things.
War ends in peace, and morning light

Mounts upon midnight's wing.

Through changes manifold,

And dangers perilous,
Through fiery flames, and water floods,

Through ways calamitous

We travel towards heaven,

A quiet habitation.
Christ shows a kingdom there prepar'd

Ev'n from the world's foundation.

0 heaven, most holy place,

Which art our country dear !
What cause have I to long for thee,

And beg with many a tear.

Earth is to me a prison ;

This boly an useless wight ;
And all things else vile, vain, and nought

To one in such ill plight.

0 Christ, make haste, from bands

Of sin and death me free,
And to those heavenly mansions,

Be pleas'd to carry me.

Where glorified saints

For ever are possest
Of God in Christ their chiefest good,

And from all troubles rest.

It is followed by a collection of verses, similar
in form and style, the title and contents of which
are sufficiently curious to be quoted in full.

ELDDLES UNRIDDLED ; OR, CHRISTIAN PARADOXES.

Broke open, smelling like sweet
Spice new taken out of boxes.

Each paradox is like a box,

That cordials rare incloseth :
This Key unlock, op'neth the Box,

And what's within discloseth ;
That whoso will, may take his fill

And gain where no man loseth.

The contents follow on the back of the title-
page.

ELDDLES UNRIDDLED ; OR, CHRISTIAN PAEADOXES.

Light in Darkness,

Sick men's Health,
Strength in Weakness,

Poor men's Wealth,
In confinement,

Liberty,
In Solitude

Good company.
Joy in Sorrow,

Life in Death's
Heavenly Crowns for

Thorny Wreaths.

58

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

Are presented to thy view,
In the Poems that ensue.

If my trials had been thine,

These would cheer thee more than wine.

The Day of Doom is a versification of the scrip-
tural account of the last judgment. It was re-
printed in London, and a few years ago in Boston.
In the prefatory poetical introduction the author
expresses his intention to rescue poetry from hea-
then classical perversions.

A PRAYER TTNTO CHRIST, THE JUDGE OF THE WOELl>.

0 dearest, dread, most glorious King
I'll of thy justest judgment sing :

Do thou my head and heart inspire,
To sing aright, as I desire.
Thee, thee alone I'll invocate,
For I do much abominate
To call the Muses to mine aid:
"Which is the unchristian use, and trade
Of some that Christians would be thought,
And yet they worship worse than nought.
Oh ! what a deal of blasphemy,
And heathenish impiety,
In Christian poets may be found,
Where heathen gods with praise are crowned,
They make Jehovah to stand by,
Till Juno, Venus, Mercury,
With frowning Mars and thundering Jove,
- Rule earth below, and heaven above.
But I have learnt to pray to none,
Save only God in Christ alone.
Nor will I laud, no not in jest,
That which I know God doth detest.

1 reckon it a damning evil

To give God's praises to the Devil,
Thou, Christ, and he to whom I pray,
Th}' glor}' fain I would display.
Oh, guide me by th}' sacred spirit,
So to indite and so to write,
That I thy holy name may praise,
And teach the sons of man thy ways.

One of the best passages of the poem, which we
quote, is modestly introduced at the end of the
volume, " to fill up the empty pages following."

A BONG OF EMPTINESS. — VANITY OF VANITY.

Vain, frail, short-lived, and miserable man,
Learn what thou art, when thy estate is best,
A restless wave o' th' troubled ocean,
A dream, a lifeless picture finely drest.

A wind, a flower, a vapor, and a bubble,
A wheel that stands not still, a trembling reed,
A trolling stone, dry dust, light chaff and stuff,
A ehadow of something, but truly nought indeed.

Learn what deceitful toys, and empty things,
This world and all its best enjoyments be :
Out of the earth no true contentment springs,
But all things here are vexing vanity.

For what is beauty, but a fading flower,
Or what is pleasure but the devil's bait,
Whereby he catcheth whom he would devour,
And multitudes of souls doth ruinate.

And what are friends, but mortal men as we,
Whom death from us may quickly separate ;
Or else their hearts may quite estranged be,
And all their love be turned into hate.

And what are riches, to be doated on ?
Uncertain, fickle, and ensnaring things;

They draw men's souls into perdition,

And when most needed, take them to their wings.

Ah, foolish man ! that sets his heart upon
Such empty shadows, such wild fowl as these,
That being gotten will be quickly gone.
And whilst they stay increase but his disease.

As in a dropsy, drinking drought begets,

The more he drinks, the more he still requires;

So on this world whoso affection sets,

His wealth's increase, increaseth his desires.

0 happy man, whose portion is above

These floods, where flames, where foes cannot bereave

him,
Most wretched man, that fixed hath his love
Upon this world that surely will deceive him.

For what is Honour? what is sov'reignty,
Whereto men's hearts so restlessly aspire ?
Whom have they crowned with felicity? ^
When did they ever satisfy desire ?

The ear of man with hearing is not fill'd;
To see new lights still coveting the eye :
The craving stomach, though it may be still'd,
Yet craves again without a new supply.

All earthly things man's cravings answer not,
Whose little heart would all the world contain,
(If all the world would fall to one man's lot)
And notwithstanding empty still remain.

The Eastern conqueror was said to weep,
When he the Indian ocean did view,
To see his conquest bounded by the deep,
And no more worlds remaining to subdue.

Who would that man in his enjoyment bless,
Or envy him, or covet his estate,
Whose gettings do augment his greediness,
And make his wishes more intemperate?

Such is the wonted and the common guise
Of those on earth that bear the greatest sway ;
If with a few the ease be otherwise,
They seek a kingdom that abides for aye.

Moreover they, of all the sons of men,
That rule, and are in highest places set;
Are most inclined to scorn their brethren ;
And God himself (without great grace) forget.

For as the sun doth blind the gazer's eyes,

That for a time they nought discern aright : 4

So honour doth befool and blind the wise,

And their own lustre 'reaves them of their sight

Great are their dangers, manifold their cares,
Thro' which whilst others sleep, they scarcely nap,
And yet are oft surprised unawares,
And fall unwilling into envie's trap.

The mean mechanic finds his kindly rest,
All void of fear sleepeth the country clown :
When greatest princes often are distrest,
And cannot sleep upon their beds of down.

Could strength or valor men immortalize,
Could wealth or honor keep them from decay,
There were some cause the same to idolize,
And give the lye to that which I do say.

But neither can such things themselves endure,
Without the hazard of a change one hour,
Nor such as trust in them can they secure
From dismal days, or death's prevailing pow'r.

If beauty could the beautiful defend
From death's dominion, then fair Absalom
Had not been brought to such a shameful end :
But fair and foul unto the grave must come.

INCREASE MATHER ; COTTON MATHER.

59

If wealth or sceptre3 could immortal mate,
Then wealthy Croesus wherefore art thou dead?
If warlike force, which makes the world to quake,
Then why is Julius Csesar perished ?

Where are the Scipio's thunderbolts of war ?
Renowned Pompey, Csesar's enemy?
Stout Hannibal, Rome's terror known so far?
Great Alexander, what's become of thee?

If gifts and bribes death's favour might but win.
If pow'r, if force, or threat'nings might it fray,
All these, and more, had- still surviving been,
But all are gone, for death will have no nay.

Such is this world, with all her pomp and glory:
Such are the men whom worldly eyes admire,
Cut down by time, and now become a story,
That we might after better things aspire.

Oo boast thyself of what thy heart enjoys,
Vain man! triumph in all thy worldly bliss:
Thy best enjoyments are but trash and toys,
Delight thyself in that which worthless is.

Omnia prsetereunt praeter amare Deum.

INCREASE MATHER— COTTON MATHEE.
Cotton Mather had the fortune or misfortune
to be born into the world to sustain a great repu-
tation. The Mather family had struck its roots
deep in the New England polity. Richard
Mather, the grandfather, came to America an
emigrant non-conformist divine in 1636, and
immediately took an important ecclesiastical posi-
tion as pastor in Dorchester. His son, Increase
Mather, born at that town in 1639, developed
the learning of the name. He was a graduate of
Harvard, of which institution he became Presi-
dent in 1085, in his forty-sixth year, when he
had fully established himself in Church and State
as the preacher of the North Church in Boston,
and the opponent of the government of diaries
II., in support of the Colonial Charter. He was
employed in England on public affairs during the
difficult period of the Revolution of 1688, bring-
ing back with him a new rojal charter, under
which he had the privilege of nominating his
friend, Sir William Phips, ai Governor to the
King. In that age, when learned men gave
greater dignity to their names in sonorous Latin,
he was called Crescentius Hatherus,* and his
studies entitled him to the honor, for he parsed
two thirds of the day amongst his books, and left
behind him eighty-live publications, a considerable
number, which was to be very far outdistanced
by his bookish son. These productions of In-
crease Mather are chiefly sermons in the theolo-
gical style of the day. His Gases of Conscience
concerning Witchcraft, published in 1693, bears
an historical value. The last work of Increase
Mather was his Agathangelus, a preface to his
son Cotton's Ccelestinus* It has this touching ad-

* Which famous John "Wilson anagrammatized into En !
Chrivtii$ merces tua. The appellation was once an inconve-
nience to Mather when he claimed some arrears of salary in
England; and some ofHeial, ignorant of these refinements,
denied his personal identity, in consequence of his having
another name. Remarkables in the Life of Increase Mather,
21.

T Cce'estinue. A Conversation in Heaven, quickened and
assisted, with Discoveries of things in the Heavenly World.
And some Relations of the Views and Joys that have been

dress or " Attestation," which does honor to the
father and the man.

The landscape of heaven here exhibited is drawn
by one who, for two-and-forty years, has, as a son
with a father, served with me in the gospel. It
will be much if these forty-two periods do not finish
our peregrinations together through the wilderness.
For my own part, 1 am every hour looking and
longing for the pleasant land, where I am sure I
shall not find things as I do here this day. And
having been somewhat comforted and strengthened
by the prospect, which is here, as from the top of
Mount Pisgah, taken of it, and entirely satisfied in
it, 1 commend it as one of my last legacies to the
people of God, which I must leave behind me in a
world which has things come and coming upon it,
which blessed are they that are escaped from.

Increase Mather married a daughter of John
Cotton, of eminent rank in the old New Eng-
land Divinity, who gave the Christian name to
his son.

Where two great names their sanctuary take,
And in a third combined a greater make.

He died in his eighty-fifth year, in 1723, and in
the sixty-sixth of his ministry. Theology was
long lived in ancient New England* His life
was written by his illustrious son with great
spirit and unction.t

(f mabfor.

Cotton Mather wa* born in Boston, Feb. 12,
1663. He was well trained for Harvard by the

granted unto several persons In the confines of It. Introduced
by Agathangelus, or, an Essay on the Ministry of the Holy
Angels, and recommended unto the people of God, by tho
reverend Dr. Increase Mather; waiting in the daily expecta-
tion of his departure to that glorious world. Boston : printed
by S. Kneeland, for Nath. Belknap, at his shop, the corner of
Scarlett's Wharffe and next door to the Mitre Coffee House.
1723. 18mo. pp. 162.

* Mr. J. P. Dabney has published. Am. Quar. Register, xiv.
377, a list of one hundred and eighty-nine graduates 6f Har-
vard, chiefly clergymen, who, up to 1S42, had reached or
passed the age of eighty-four. There are four graduates of
Harvard centenarians. Dr. Farmer, in the same work (x. 39),
has published a series of Ecclesiastical Statistics, including the
Ases of 8411 deceased Ministers of the Gospel, who were gra-
duated at Harvard College, from 1642 to 1826. Of these, 343
died at seventy and upwards. There are 17 at ninety and
upwards.

t Parentator. Memoirs of Remarkables in the Life and tho
Death of the Ever Memorable Dr. Increase Mather, who ex-
pired August 23, 1723. 2 Kings ii. 12. My Father, my Fathor.
Boston: Printed by B. Green for Nathaniel Belknap. 1724.

60

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE,

venerable schoolmaster Ezekiel Cheever,* and was
a precocious student; for at twelve years of age
he had read Cicero, Terence, Ovid, and Virgil,
the Greek Testament, and entered upon Socrates,
Homer, and the Hebrew Grammar. To adopt
the old reading of Shakespeare,

From his cradle,
He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one.

A mountain of learning and theology was
heaped upon his childhood. When he left col-
lege, with a handsome compliment in Latin
from President Oakes, he employed himself for
several years in teaching. In 1684, at the
age of twenty-one, he was ordained, when he
preached the first time for his grandfather, the
Rev. Mr. Richard Mather, at Dorchester; the
next Lord's day for his own father at Boston;
and the Lord's day after, for his grandfather
Cotton at Boston. His spiritual life was of an
earlier date; for in religion, he was a divine
almost from his cradle. He had, as a youth,
acquired a habit of meditation and religious im-
provement, modelled upon Bishop Hall's Occa-
sional Meditations, in which the most familiar
occurrences are chosen for remark.

This quaintness suited the genius of Mather.
Every incident in life afforded him a text. He
had a special consideration for the winding up of
his watch. As he mended his fire he thought of
rectifying his life; the act of paring his nails
warned him to lay aide "all superfluity of
naughtiness;" while "drinking a di-h of tea" he
was especially invited to fragrant and grateful re-
flections. He appropriated the time while he
was dressing to particular speculations, parcelling
out a different set of questions for every day in
the week. On Sunday morning he commented
on himself, as pastor; on Monday, as husband
and father; on Tuesday he thought of his rela-
tions, "taking a catalogue which began with his
parents and extended as far a-; the children of his
cousin-germans," and, by an odd distribution, in-
terchanging them sometimes with his enemies;
Wednesday he gave to the consideration of the
church throughout the world; on Thursday he
turned over his religious society efforts; Friday
he devoted to the poor and suffering, and Satur-
day he concluded with his own spiritual in-
terests.t

To these devout associations he added the
most humorous turns, not merely improving, — a
notion readily entertained — such similes of mortal
affairs as the striking of a clock or the dying
flame of a candle, but pinning his prayers, on a
tall man, that he might have "high attainments
in Christianity ;" on a negro, that he might be

* Cheever, a Londoner by birth, was for more than seventy
years a teacher in this country — at Newhaven, Ipswich, Char-
lestown, and at Boston, where he passed the last thirty-seven
years of his life, till bis death, in 1718, at the venerable age of
ninety-three. His Latin Accidence had reached its twentieth
edition in 1768. He also wrote on the Scripture Prophecies.
Cotton Mather says, in one of his carefully twisted elegies,
that his numerous pupils employed the parts of speech which
he taught them in sounding his praises: —

" With interjections they break off at last,
But, ah is all they use, wo, and alasl"

The story is, that Cheever used to boast of having flogged
seven of the judges on the bench,
t Life by Samuel Mather, 50-59.

washed white by the Spirit ; on a very small
man, that he might have great blessings ; upon a
man on horseback, that as the creature served
him, so he might serve the Creator ; and, at the
suggestion of so suspicious an incentive, savoring
so strongly of unholy egotism, as a person passing
by without observing him, " Lord, I pray thee,
help that man to take a due notice of Christ."*

It may not be unreasonable to trace this habit,
with the disposition of mind upon which it grew
in Mather, till he carried out the doctrine of spe-
cial providence to an excess which assumed the
worst forms of dyspeptic and morbid suspicion.
Pious persons sometimes forget that, while Deity
rales the world with particular control, in which
nothing is so small as not to be great, it becomes
not the ignorance of short-sighted man to be the
interpreter.

It was probably one form of this not uncom-
mon delusion which led Cotton Mather to enter-
so vigorously upon the prosecution of witchcraft.
Wherever in life he saw an effect, he looked
about him for an immediate cause, and would
•take up the nearest one which suited his taste
and humor. He was undoubtedly instrumental
in fomenting the murderous proceedings at Salem ;
it would be harsh to suppose with the deliberate
intent of reviving a fading ecclesiastic tyranny
and priestly despotism in the land, but certainly
with an over-zealous eagerness and inordinate
credulity. Wi-er men than Mather, in those
days, had a certain kind of belief in the possi-
bility of witchcraft. Chief Justice Hale, in 1682,
had sanctioned the punishment of death for a
piece of intolerable nonsense in England, and
witches had been executed in New England before
Mather was born. There was ju-t lurking super-
stition enough about in the country, in the thin
settlements and in the purlieus of the wilder-
ness, fostered by the disuse of independent thinking
under the dogmatic puritan theology, to be effec-
tively worked upon by a credulous, zealous, unscru-
pulous advocate ; and such, for the time being, was
Cotton Mather. Vanity appears to have been his
ruling passion, and vanity associated with priestly
power and superstition presents a fearful combi-
nation for the times. Self-blinded, he was fooled
by the most transparent absurdities. He gives an
account, in the Magnalia-, of the freaks of a young
girl, one of the bewitched family of the Good-
wins, whom he took into his house, and who
played him a variety of silly pranks, his relation
of which is exceedingly quaint and amusing, all
of them to be explained by the mischievous
caprices of the sex, with so capital an object as
himself to work upon, but which the learned
doctor in divinity magnified in the pulpit — he
speaks of "entertaining his congregation with a
sermon" on the subject — and the "famous Mr.
Baxter" echoed in London, as a " great instance,
with such convincing evidence, that he must be a
very obdurate Sadducee, that will not believe it."
This was in 1088. His Memorable Providences
relating to Witchcraft appeared in 1689. The
twenty executions of Salem took place in 1692;
nineteen were hung, and another pressed to death,
by that peculiar institution of the old English

* Life by Samuel Mather, 107-9.

COTTON MATHEE.

Gl

law, the peine forte et dure. Mather was on the !
spot, aiding and abetting u riding in the whirl-
wind, and directing the storm." At the execu-
tion of the Btergyman, George Burroughs, he was
present among the crowd on horseback, address-
ing the people, and cavilling at the ordination of
his brother pastor.* Hi* Wonders of the Invisible
World; being an account of the trial of several
witches lately executed in New England,!? tells
the story of these melancholy judicial crimes,
with a hearty unction which gloats over the
victims. His faith is as unrelenting as the zeal
of an antiquarian or a virtuoso. His spiritual
rant, forgetting the appropriate language of the
scholar and the divine, anticipates the burlesque
of a Maw-worm, or the ravings of a Mucklewrath.
When the witch mania had run out, having
brought itself to a reductio ad absurdum, by ;
venting suspicions of the diabolical agencies of
the wife of Governor Phips, which was carrying
the matter quite too far, and Robert Galef had
published his spirited exposure of the affair in
1700,{ Mather repeating the stories in the old i
strain in the Magnalia, makes no retraction of his '
former judgments or convictions. In 1723, in the
chapter of the " Remarkables" of his father, en-
titled Troubles from the Invisible World, he
repeats the absurd stories of the " prodigious pos- j
session of devils" at Salem.§

* Bancroft's U. S. iii. 92.

t The Wonders of tbe Invisible World: being an account of
the Tryals of Several Witches, lately executed in New England,
and of several remarkable curiosities therein occurring." Tu-
cctlier with, 1. Observations upon the nature, the number, and
the operations of the Devils. 2. A short narrative of a late
outrage committed by a knot of witches in Swedeland, very
much resembling, and so uir explaining, that under which New
England has labored. 3. Some councils directing a due im-
provement of the terrible things lately done by the unusual
and amazing Kange of Evil Spirits in New England. 4. A
brief discourse upon those Temptations which are tbe more
ordinary Devices of Satan, by Cotton Mather. Published by
the special command of his Excellency the Governor of the
Province of the Massachusetts Bay, in New England. Printed
first at Boston, in New England ; and reprinted at London, for
John Dunton, at the Raven, in the Poultry. 1093. 4to. pp. 93.

X More Wonders of the Invisible World; or the Wonders
of the invisible World Displayed in five parts. An account of j
the sufferings of Margaret Rule, collected by Robert Calef,
merchant of Boston, iii New England. London, 1700. Caief's ''
book, on its arrival in this country, was publicly burnt by the
Mather agency, in tbe college yard at Cambridge. Samuel
Mather, in the Life of his Father (p. 46). disposes of it more
summarily than posteiity is willing to do. "There was a
certain disbeliever of witchcraft, who wrote against this book ;
but as the man is dead, his book died long before him." This
merchant of Boston deserves to be well remembered for his
independence and acuteness. He is deserving of more special
notice than he has received. He died in 1720.

§ The witchcraft executions had been the work of a few
clergymen and their friends in office, and had been carried
through by a special court got up among them for the occasion.
Bancroft (iii. 88) assigns the " responsibility of the tragedy1' to
the '■ very few, hardly five or six, in whose hands the transition
state of the government left, fora season, unlimited influence,"

When Mr. Ophtim published his Lecture* on this subject, '
he was called upon by a writer in the public prints, to make i
good his charge against Cotton Mather, of having exerted him-
self to increase and extend the frenzy of the public mind. He
produced in reply, an original letter from Dr. Mather to
Stephen Sewall, of Salem, in which he manifests an oxcessive |
earnestness to prevent the excitement from subsiding. This
was written in September, after the summer which had wit-
nessed the executions in Salem, and contained an importunate ,
request, that Mr. Sewall would furnish him with the evidence
given at the trials. " Imagine me as obdurate a Saddncee and
witch-advocate as any among us ; address me as one that believed
nothing reasonable; and when you have so knocked me down,
in a spectre so unlike me, you will enable me to box it about
among my neighbors till it come, I know not where at last."
Peabo'dy's Life. 249. Chandler Robbins, in his History of the
Second Church, or Old North in Boston, has taken an apologe-
tic view of these transactions, and exempted Mather from the
charge of conscious deception. "He may be called a fool for
bis credulity ; but he certainly cannot be called a knave for bis

The lesson, however, was not without profit to
hiin. "When a great humanitarian question, which
he was the first to introduce, afterwards came up,
in the year 1721, the new discovery of the inocu-
lation for the small -pox, and the superstitious
feeling of the day was opposed to it, Mather set
himself against the popular outcry on the side of
the reform.* It was in vain now that his op-
ponents brought up the diabolical agencies of the
new remedy. Mather had chosen the other side,
and the wicked suggestions of the spiritual world
were silenced. It was a noble position for a man
to hold, and he resolutely maintained it. Even
as all scandal touching the fair Lady Mary Wort-
ley Montagu is forgotten, when she is seen angeli-
cally bringing this protection for humanity from
Turkey to England, so may the bigotry and super-
stition of Mather be overlooked when, not wait-
ing for English precedents, he took upon himself
the introduction of this new remedy in America.

In many other respects, Mather's memory de-
serves to be held in esteem by the present genera-
tion. He carried about with him that indefatigable
sense of usefulness which we associate with the
popular memory of Franklin, whose character
doubtless he helped to mould. The philosopher
in his autobiography, acknowledges his obligations
to Dr. Mather, in a paragraph in which he asso-
ciates the Essays to do goooZvrith a book by De
Foe as " perhaps giving him a turn of thinking
that had an influence on some of the principal
future events of his life." He has left- another me-
morandum of this obligation in a letter to Samuel
Mather, from Passey, May 12, 1784:— "When
I was a boy, I met with a book, entitled ; Essays
to do Good,1 which I think was written by your
father. It had been so little regarded by its
former possessor, that several leaves of it were
torn out; but the remainder gave me such a turn
of thinking, as to have an influence ou my con-
duct through life.3 1

cunning," p. 102. Quincy ha? handled Mather less mildly in
his History of Harv. tTniv. i. 346.

* An interesting and instructive history of the introduction
of inoculation into New England, will be found in Mr. W. B.
O. Peabody's Life of Cotton Mather, in volume iv. of Sparks's
American Biography. uThe clergy, who were generally in
favor of inoculation,* supported it by arguments drawn from
medical science; while the physicians, who were as much
united against it, opposed it with arguments which were chiefly
theological, alleging that it was presumptuous in man to inflict
disease on man, that being the prerogative of the Most High."
Dr. Zabdiel Boylston stood alone in the faculty. He defended
inoculation by ids pen, and promoted it by his example. Br.
Douglass, a Scotchman, a physician of note in Boston, and
afterwards the author of "A Summary, Historical and Political,
of the British Settlements in North America," 1760, was an in-
dignant opponent.

+ This letter also preserves an anecdote characteristic of
both parties — the theoretical Cotton Mather, and the practi-
cal Franklin. "You mention your being in your seventy-
eighth year. I am in my seventy-ninth. We are grown old
together. It is now more than sixty years since I left Boston:
but I remember well both your father and grandfather, having
heard them both in the pulpit, and seen them in their houses.
The last time I saw your father was in the beginning of 1724,
when 1 visited him after my first trip to Pennsylvania ; he
received me in his library, and on my taking leave, showed mo
a shorter way out of the hous^, through a narrow passage,
crossed by a beam over head. We were still talking as I with-
drew, he accompanying me behind, and I turning partly to-
wards him, when he said hastily, ' Stoop, stoop!' I did not
understand him, till 1 felt my head hit against the beam. Ho
was a man who never missed any occasion of giving instruc-
tion ; and upon this he said to me, 'You are young, and have
the world before you: stoop as you go through it, and you will
miss many hard thumps.' Tliis advice, thus beat into my
head, has frequently been of use to me : and I often think of
it, when I see pride mortified, and misfortunes brought upon
people by their carrying their heads too high."

62

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Mather was always exercising his ingenuity to
contribute something useful to the world. He
was one of the first to employ the press exten-
sively in the dissemination of tracts ; he early
lifted his voice in favor of temperance; he
preached and wrote for sailors ; he instructed ne-
groes ; he substituted moral and sagacious intellec-
tual restraints with his children for flogging;* con-
versation he studied and practised as an art ; and
he was a devoted historiographer of his country
for posterit}- — besides his paramount employment,
according to the full measure of his day and gene-
ration, of discharging the sacred duties of his
profession. Pity that any personal defects of
temperament or "follies of the wise" should
counterbalance these noble achievements — that
so well freighted a bark should at times experi-
ence the want of a rudder. Good sense was the
one stick occasionally missing from the enormous
faggot of Mather's studies and opinions.

The remark that Mather made of one of the
many opinionists of the times, whose notions did
not agree with his own, or whose nonsense, to
reverse the saying of Charles II. of Bishop Woolly
and the non-conformists, did not suit his non-
sense, that his brain was a windmill, may be
applied to himself. He was full of a restless, un-
easy mental action. He wrote history without
being an historian, and painted character without
being a biographer. But he had a great genius
for the odd and the fantastic.

One thing he never could attain, though he
nearly inherited it, though his learning almost
irresistibly challenged it, though he spiritually
anticipated it — the prize of the presidency of
Harvard College. One and another was chosen
in preference to him. The ghostly authority of
the old priestly influence was passing away. Cot-
ton Mather was, in age, a disheartened and dis-
appointed man. The possession, in turn, of three
wives had proved but a partial consolation. One
of his sons he felt compelled to disown ;t his
wife was subject to fits of temper bordering on
insanity ; the glooms of his own disposition grew
darker in age as death approached, a friend whom
he was glad to meet, when he expired, at the
completion of his sixty-fifth year, the 13th Feb-
ruary, 1728. His last emphatic charge to his son
Samuel was, " Remember only that one word,
' Fructuosus.' "

It was a word which had never been forgotten
by himself — for his genius had indeed borne much
fruit. The catalogue of his printed works enu-
merated by his son Samuel, at the close of the life

* The kind and shrewd disposition of Mather in this parti-
cular is worthy of special mention. "He would have his
children account it a privilege to be taught; and would some-
times manage the matter so, that refusing to teach them some-
thing should be looked upon as a punishment. The strain of
his threatenings therefore was : you shall not be allowed to
read, or to write, or to learn such a thing, if you do not as I
have bidden you. The slavish way of education, carried on
with raving, and kicking, and scourging (in schools as well as
families) he looked upon as a dreadful judgment of God on the
world; he thought the practice abominable, and expressed a
mortal aversion to it." — Lije by Samuel Mather, p. 17.

t His Diary speaks of bis "miserable son,1' and threatens "a
tremendous letter to my wicked son." Samuel Mather, his
brother, writes kindly of him ; — " The third son was Increase,
a young man, well beloved by all who knew him for his supe-
rior good nature and manners, his elegant wit and ready expres-
sions. He went to sea, and on his passage from Barbadoes to
Newfoundland was lost in the Atlantic.1 — Life of Cotton Ma-
ther, p. 14.

of his father, which supplied us with so many
characteristic traits of the man,* numbers three
hundred and eighty-two, a Cottonian library in
itself, bearing date during more than forty years,
from 1686 to 1727.t As an ancient Roman Em-
peror took for his adage, " nulla dies sine linea,"
so Cotton Mather may be said to have enlarged
the motto, " no year without a book," for in the
ripe period of his book productiveness, not a date

i is missing. These publications were, many of

! them, light, and occasional tracts, single sermons,
and the like ; but there were many among them
of sufficient magnitude, and all were greatly con-

| densed. The famous sentence which he wrote in
capitals over his study door, as a warning to all

: tedious and impertinent visitors, " Be short," he
bore in mind himself for his own writings when
he approached that much enduring host, the pub-

j he. Books and reading were his delight : he was

i one of the old folio race of scholars, the gluttons
of ancient authors, transplanted to America. The
vigorous pedantic school which grew up under
the shade of Harvard, in those days, between the

i wilderness and the sea, was a remarkable feature
of the times.

Warmly writes poetical John Adams, of New-
port, of Mather's productiveness.

What numerous volumes scatter'J from his hand,
Lighten'd his own, and warm'd each foreign land?
What pious breathings of a glowing soul
Live in each page, and animate the whole?
The breath of heaven the savory pages show,
As we Arabia from its spices know.
The beauties of his style are careless strew'd,
And learning with a liberal hand bestow'd:
So, on the field of Heav'n, the seeds of fire
Thick-sown, but careless, all the wise admire.}:

In one of Mather's private thanksgivings, he
records his gratitude for the usual rewards of a
pastor's ministry, and adds as special items of hap-
piness, " my accomplishments in any points of
learning — my well furnished library." On ano-
ther occasion, he describes the culture of his
genius : " I am not unable, with a little study, to
write in seven languages : I feast myself with the
secrets of all the sciences which the more polite

* Life of the Very Reverend and learned Cotton Mather, D.D.
and F.R.S., late Pastor of the North Church, in Boston ; who
died Feb. 18, 1727-8, by Samuel Mather, M.A., Boston. Print-
ed for Samuel Gerrish, in Cornhill, 1729. 12mo. pp. 186. An
abridgment of this life was published in London, 1744, bv Da-
vid Jennings, at the suggestion of Dr. Watts, who speaks in
his " Recommendation" of his " happy Correspondence with
the Reverend Dr. Cotton Mather, for near twenty years before
his death : as well as with the Reverend Mr. Samuel Mather,
his son, ever since. I found much of his learned and pious
character very early, from the spirit of his Letters, and of his
public writings, which he favored me with every year."

t Large as this catalogue is, and carefully prepared by his
son, it does not include all Mather's publications. Extensive
collections of them may be found in the Library of the Ameri-
can Antiquarian Society at Worcester, which has aiso a Ma-
ther alcove of weather-beaten divinity in ragged black covers,
as if smoked by the fires of the Inquisition,— hardly one has a
label left — rich in such old time works as the " Chuicli Poli-
tics" of Voetius, the " Scholastical Divinity" of Henry Jcanes.
Bilson's "Christian Subjections," Sib'sPious Writings, relieved
by an old Latin volume of Henry More, of Erasmus, and a lew
broken sets of Roman poets. Books which once belonged to
grandfather, father, son, and grandson, Richard, Increase, Cot-
ton, and Samuel. There are fifty-two Cotton Mather items on
the catalogue of the Boston Athenaeum. The Mather MSS. are
chiefly in the archives of the Mass. Historical Society, and the
American Antiq. Society.

t On the Death of Dr. Cotton Mather, Poems, p. 85.

COTTON MATHER.

63

part of mankind ordinarily pretend unto. I am
entertained with all kinds of histories, ancient and
modern. I am no stranger to the curiosities,
which by all sorts of learning are brought unto
the curious. These intellectual pleasures are far
beyond my sensual ones."*

The great work of Mather, to which many of
his writings are properly appendices, the Magno-
lia Christi Americana, is a monument of these
studies. In its plan it is a compound of quaint
English Dr. Thomas Fuller's Church History and
Worthies ; but in the execution, the wit and saga-
city of the American are not of so line an edge,
and the poetical fancy is missing. The book pur-
ports, on its title-page, to be The Ecclesiastical
History of New England, from its first Planting
in the year 1620, unto the year of our Lord 1698 ;
but includes also the civil history of the times, an
account of Harvard college, of the Indian wars,
of the witchcraft "troubles," together with the
lives of more than eighty individuals, celebrities
of church and state. By the year 1718 Mather
had published the lives of no less than one hun-
dred and fourteen men and twenty women, and
more, says his biographer, afterward3, " not to say
anything of the transient but honorable mention
many others have had in the doctor's tractates."
Character painting, in funeral sermons and eu-
logies, was one of the strong points of Mather's
genius, an exercise of amiability which the poet
Halleck has kindly remembered among the verses
in which he has so happily depicted the peculi-
arities of the man :

0 Genius! powerful with thy praise or blame,
When art tiiou feigning? when art thou sincere?

Mather, who banned his living friends with shame,
In funeral sermons blessed them on their bier,

And made their deathbeds beautiful with fame —
Fame true and gracious as a widow's tear

To her departed darling husband given ;

Him whom she scolded up from earth to heaven.

Thanks for his funeral sermons, they recall

The sunshine smiling through his folio's leaves,

That makes his readers' hours in bower or hall
Joyous as plighted hearts on bridal eves;

Chasing, like music from the soul of Saul,

The doubt that darkens, and the ill that grieves ;

And honoring the author's heart and mind,

That beats to bless, and toils to ennoble human kind, j

The Magnolia was printed in London, in folio,
in 1702, through the agency of a friend, Mr. Ro-
bert Hackshaw, who bore the expense as an act
of faith. It was not till 182fLHiat it was reprinted
in America, at Hartford. As an historical work
its incidental liglrts are more valuable than its
direct opinions; Kb credulity and prejudice are
unbounded, but they painfully exhibit the manage-
ment of the old ecclesiasticism of New England ;
for the rest, its vigorous oddity of expression is
amusing, and will long attract the curious reader.
Giving Mather every credit for sincerity, his judg-
ment appears sadly at fault : the mixture of high
intentions with low puerilities recalls to us the
exclamation of Coleridge upon perusing a book

* Life by Samuel Mather, p. 21.

t The whole of this characterization of Mather and the old
Puritan times iB admirable, balancing virtues and defects with
a poet's discrimination. It is from that quarry of the author's
portfolio, the " unpublished poem" Connecticut,

of the same school, John Reynolds's old folio of
God's Revenge against Murther, "Oh, wdiat a
beautiful concordia discordantium is an unthink-
ing, good-hearted man's soul."

The book of Mather's which is mentioned most
frequently after the Mogilalia, is the Chris-
tian Philosopher, a collection of Natural Theo-
logy instances and improvements, leaning upon
Boyle, Ray, Derham, and similar writers. Com-
mencing with light, the planets, and such pheno-
mena as snow, wind, cold, he travels through
the mineral, vegetable, and animal world, to man,
into whose anatomy he enters intimately. He
quotes for poetry " the incomparable Sir Richard
Blackmore," with whom he corresponded^ and
recognises " our ingenious Mr. Waller." The
natural history is sometimes of the simplest, and
the moral improvements are overdone. His pro-
totype, Boyle, in his Occasional Reflections on
Several Subjects, had carried a good thing so far
as to excite the humor of Swift, who wrote his
Pious Meditation on a Broomstick, in parody of
his style. Mather adopts the popular credulities
touching the victim of the bite of the tarantula,
and narrates them with great emotion; and he
tells us, out of Beccone, that men, if need requires,
may suckle infants from their breasts. His love
for the curiosities of reading will carry him any-
where for an example. Thus he remarks, " What
a sympathy between the feet and the bowels ! the
priests walking barefoot on the pavement of the
temple, were often afflicted, as the Talmuds tell
us, with diseases in the bowels. The physician
of the temple was called a bowel doctor. Belly-
aches, occasioned by walking on a cold floor, are
cured by applying hot bricks to the soles of the
feet." There is, however, an obvious good inten-
tion to be useful and devout everywhere.

The Essays to do Good, an abridgment of
which has been in popular circulation with " im-
provements " by George Bnrder, the author of the
" Village Sermons," may be best described by
their original title, in the publication of 1710,
" Bonifacius ; an Essay upon the Good, that is
to be devised and designed, by those who desire
to answer the Great End of Life, and to do Good
while they live. A Book offered, first, in Gene-
ral, unto all Christians, in a Personal Capacity, or
in a relative: Then more particularly unto Magis-
trates, Ministers, Physicians, Lawyers, School-
masters, Gentlemen, Officers, Churches, and unto
all Societies of a religious character and intention:
with humble Proposals of unexceptionable me-
thods to Do Good in the world." The treatment
is ingenious, and the design affords a model for a
wider treatment with reference, to all the promi-
nent arts and pursuits of life.

Mather, too, sometimes, like so many of the
worthies he celebrated, tried his hand upon
poetry. Whether Minerva was willing or not,
the verses must be produced. He has the gift of
Ilolofernes for "smelling out the. odoriferous flow-
ers of fancy, the jerks of invention." But the
puns and quibs which he has for others take a
more natural form when he writes his own sor-
rows on the death of his son and daughter.

The Psalterium Amcrieanwn, published in
1718, was an attempt to improve the careless
version of the Psalms then current, by a translation
exactly conformed to the original, and written in

64

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

blank verse. Mr. Hood, in his History of Music,
speaks of the work with respect. To the transla-
tions were appended brief devotional and learned
comments, or, as the author more pointedly chal-
lenges attention to them — " Eveiy Psalm is here
satellited with illustrations, which are not fetched
from the vulgar annotations, but are the more
fine, deep, and uncommon thoughts, which in a
course of long reading and thinking have been
brought in the way of the collector. They are
golden keys to immense treasures of Truth."
Verily, Mather understood well the learned trick
of displaying Lis literary wares.*

This literal translation, " without any jingle of
words at the end," is printed by Mather in the
several metres, separated from prose by rules set
upright in the solid paragraph. We quote one of
them, restored to the form of poetry : —

PSALM c.

Now unto the eternal God
Make you the joyful shouts
Which are heard in a jubilee,
All ye who dwell on earth.

Yield service with a shining jcy
To the eternal God;
With joyful acclamations come
Ye in before His face.

Know that th' eternal God, He's God,
He made us, and we're His ;
We are His people, and we are
The sheep which He does feed.

With due confessions enter ye
His gates, His courts with praise ;
Make due confessions unto Him ;
Speak ye well of His name.

For the eternal God is good ;
His mercy is forever;
And unto generations doth
His faithfulness endure.

An immense unpublished MS. of Mather, his
Illustrations of the Sacred Scriptures, is stored
in ' the library of the Massachusetts Historical
Society, where it is shown in six volumes folio,
of rough-edged whity-brown foolscap, written in
the author's round, exact hand, in double columns;
its magnitude and forgotten theology bidding de-
fiance to the enterprise of editors and publisher*.
Portions of his Diary, a painful psychological
curiosity, are also to be found there, including the
torn leaf from which the invisible hand of witch-
craft plucked a piece, according to his declaration,
before his eyes.

AN nOfiTATOEY AND NECESSARY ADDRESS, TO A COUNTRY NOW
EXTRAORDINARILY ALARM'D EY THE WRATH OP TIIE DEVIL.
— PROM TIIE WONDERS OF THE INVISIBLE "WORLD.

That the Devil is come down unto us with great
wrath, we find, we feel, we now deplore. In man}'
wa3's, for many years, haih the Devil been assaying
to extirpate the Kingdom of our Lord Jesus here.
New England may complain of the Devil, as in
Psalm exxix. 1, 2 : Many a time have they afflictcdme,
from my youth, may New England now say ; many a
time have they afflicted me from my youth ; yet they

* Some of his title-pages are exquisite. Brontologia Sacra
is the name lie gives to a few sermons on remarkable thunder-
storms. The titles of several of these occasional publications
are, ATails Fastened, or Proposals of Piety ; Adversus Liber-
tinas ; An Essay on Evanydival Ohediencc. ; T/ieopolis Ame-
ricana, An Essay on the Golden Street of Vie Holy City,

have not prevailed against me. But now there is a
more than ordinary affliction, with which the Ijevil
is Galling of us: and such an one as is indeed Un-
parallelable. The things confessed by Witches, and
the things endured by Others, laid together, amount
unto this account of our Affliction. The Devil, Ex-
hibiting himself ordinarily as a small Black man,
has decoy'd a fearful ki.ot of proud, forward, igno-
rant, envious, and malicious creatures, to list them-
selves in his horrid Service, by entring their Names
in a Book, by him tendered unto them. These
Witches, whereof above a Score have now Con-
fessed, and shown their Deeds, and some are now
tormented by the Devils, for Confessing, have met
in Hellish Rendezvous, wherein the Confessors do
say, they have had their diabolical Sacraments,
imitating the Baptism and the Supper of our Lord.
In these hellish meetings, these Monsters have asso-
ciated themselves to do no less a thing than, To de-
stroy the Kingdom of our Lord Jesus Christ, in these
parts of the World; and in order hereunto, First
they each of them have their Spectres, or Devils,
commissioned by them and representing of them, to
be the Engines of their Malice. By these wicked
Spectres, they seize poor people about the country,
with various and bloody Torments.; and of those
evidently Preternatural torments there are some
have dy'd. They have bewitched some, even so far
as to make Self destroyers : and others are in many
Towns here and there languishing under their Evil
hands. The people thus afflicted, are miserably
scratched, and bitten, so that the Marks are most
visible to all the World, but the causes utterly
invisible; and the same Invisible Furies do most
visibly stick Pins into the bodies of the Afflicted,
and scale them, and hideously distort, and disjoint
all their members, besides a thousand other sorts of
Plague, beyond these of any natural diseases which
they give unto them. Yea, they sometimes drag
the poor people out of their chambers, and carry
them over Trees and Hills, for divers miles together.
A large part of the persons tortured by these Dia-
bolical Spectres, are horribly tempted by them,
sometimes with fair promises, and sometimes with
hard threatenings, but always with felt miseries, to
sign the Devil's Laivs in a Spectral Book laid before
them ; which two or three of these poor Sufferers,
being by their tiresome sufferirgs overcome to do,
they have immediately been released from all their
miseries, and they appeared in Spectre then to Tor-
ture those that were before their fellow-sufferers.
The Witches, which by their covenant with the
Devil are become Owners of Spectres, are often-
times by their own Spectres required and compelled
to give their consent, for the molestation of some,
which they had no mind otherwise to fall upon: and
cruel depredations are then made upon the Vicinage.
In the Prosecution of these Witchcrafts, among a
thousand other unaccountable things, the Spectres
have an odd faculty of cloatliing the most substan-
tial and corporeal Instruments of Torture, with In-
visibility, while the wounds thereby given have
been the most palpable things in the World; so that
the Sufferers assaulted with Instruments of Iron,
wholly unseen to the standers by, though, to their
cost, seen by themselves, have, upon snatching,
wrested the Instruments out of the Spectre's hands,
and every one has then immediately not only beheld,
but handled, an Iron Instrument taken by a Devil
from a Neighbor. These wicked Spectres have pro-
ceeded so far, as to steal several quantities of Monev
from divers people, part of which Money has, before
sufficient Spectators, been dropt out of the Air into
the Hands of the Sufferers, while the Spectres have
been urging them to subscribe their Covenant with

COTTON MATHER.

65

Death. In such extravagant ways have these
Wretches propounded, the Dragooning of as many
as they can, into their own Combination, and the
.Destroying of others, with lingring, spreading,
deadly diseases; till our Country should at last be-
come too hot for us. Among the Ghastly Instances
of the success which those Bloody Witches have had,
we have seen even some of their own Children, so
dedicated unto the Devil, that in their Infancy, it is
found, the Imps have sucked them, and rendered
them Venomous to a Prodigy. We have also seen
the Devil's first battries upon the Town where the
first Church of our Lord in this Colony was gathered,
producing those distractions, which have almost
ruin'd the Town. We have seen, likewise, the
Plague reaching afterwards into the Towns far and
near, where the Houses of good Men have the
Devils filling of them with terrible vexations!

This is the descent, which, it seems, the devil has
now made upon us. But that which makes this
descent the more formidable, is, The Multitude and
quality of Persons accused of an interest in this
Witchcraft, by the Efficacy of the Spectres which
take their name and shape upon them; causing
very many good and wise men to fear, that many
innocent, yea, and some virtuous persons, are, by the
devils in this matter, imposed upon ; that the devils
have obtain'd the power to take on them tlie like-
ness of harmless people, and in that likeness to afflict
other people, and be so abused by Prestigious
Dasmoas, that upon their look or touch, the afflicted
shall be oddly affected. Arguments from the Pro-
vidence of God, o.i the one side, and from our
charity towards man on the other side, have made
this now to become a most agitated Co.itroversie
among us. There is an Agony produced in the
Minds of Men, lest the Devil should sham us with
Devices, of perhaps a finer Thread, than was ever
yet practised upon the World. The whole business
is become hereupon so Snarled, and the determina-
tion of the Question one way or another, so dismal,
that our Honourable Judges have a Room for Jeho-
saphat's Exclamation, We know not what to do I
They have used, as Judges have heretofore done,
the Spectral Evidences, to introduce their further
Enquiries into the Lives of the persons accused ;
and they have thereupon, by the wonderful Provi-
dence of God, been so strengthened with other
evidences, that some of the Witch Gang have been
fairly Executed. But what shall be done, as to
those against whom the evidence is chiefly founded
in the dark world? Here they do solemnly demand
our Addresses to the Father of Lights, on their be-
half. But in the mean time, the Devil improves the \
Darkness of this Affair, to push us into a Blind
Man's Buffet, and we are even ready to be sinfully,
yea, hotly and madly, mauling one another in the
dark.

THE TARANTULA. — FROM TnE "cniUSTTAN PHILOSOPHER."

What amazing effects follow on the bite of the
tarantula! the patient is taken with an extreme dif-
ficulty of breathing, and heavy anguish of heart, a
dismal sadness of mind, a voice querulous and sor-
rowful, and his eyes very much disturbed. When
the violent symptoms which appear on the first day
are over, a continual melancholy hangs about the
person, till by dancing or singing, or change of air,
the poisonous impressions are extirpated from the
blood, and the fluid of the nerves ; but this is a
happiness that rarely happens; nay, Baglivi, this
wicked spider's countryman, says, there is no expec-
tation of ever being perfectly cured. Many of the
poisoned are never well but among the graves, and
in solitary places ; and they lay themselves along

VOL. I. — 5

upon a bier as if they themselves were dead : like
people in despair, they will throw themselves into
a pit ; women, otherwise chaste enough, cast away
all modesty, and throw themselves into efery in-
decent posture. There are some colours agreeable
to them, others offensive, especially black ; and if
the attendants have their clothes of ungrateful
colours, they must retire out of their sight. The
music with the dancing which must be employed
for their cure, continues three or four days; in this
vigorous exercise they sigh, they are full of com-
plaints ; like persons in drink, they almost lose the
right use of their understanding ; they distinguish
not their very parents from others in their treating
of them, and scarce remember any thing that is
past. Some during this exercise are much pleased
with green boughs of reeds or vines, and wave them
with their hands in the air, or dip them in the
water, or bind them about their face or neck ; others
love to handle red cloths or naked swords. And
there are those who, upon a little intermission of
the dancing, fall a digging of holes in the ground,
which they fill with water, and then take a strange
satisfaction in rolling there. When they begin to
dance, they call for swords and aet like fencers ;
sometimes they are for a looking-glass, but then
they fetch many a deep sigh at beholding them-
selves. Their fancy sometimes leads them to rich
clothes, to necklaces, to fineries and a variety of
ornaments ; and they are highly courteous to the
bystanders that will gratify them with any of these
things ; they lay them very orderly about the place
where the exercise is pursued, and in dancing please
themselves with one or other of these things by
turns, as their troubled imagination directs them.

How miserable would be the condition of man-
kind, if these animals were common in every
country ! But our compassionate God has confined
them to one little corner of Italy ; they are exist-
ing elsewhere, but nowhere thus venomous, except
in Apulia. My God, I glorify thy compassion to
sinful mankind, in thy restraints upon the poisons
of the tarantula.

THE LIFE OF MR. RALPH PARTRIDGE — FROM THE " MAGNALIA."

When David was driven from his friends into the
wilderness, he made this pathetical representation
of his condition, " 'Twas as when one doth hunt a
partridge in the mountains." Among the many wor-
thy persons who were persecuted into an American
wilderness, for their fidelity to the ecclesiastical king-
dom of our true David, there was one that bore the
name as well as the state of an hunted partridge.
What befel hirn, was, as Bede saith of what was
done by Fselix, Juxta nominis sui Sacramentum.

This was Mr. Ralph Partridge, who for no fault
but the delicacy of his good spirit, being distressed
by the ecclesiastical setters, had no defence, neither
of beak nor clam, but a fight over the ocean.

The place where he took covert was the colony of
Plymouth, and the town of Duxbury in that colony.

This Partridge had not only the iunocency of the
dove, conspicuous in his blameless and pious life,
which made him very acceptable in his conversation,
but also the loftiness of an eagle, in the great soar of
his intellectual abilities. There are some interpret-
ers who, understanding church officers by the living
creatures, in the fourth chapter of the Apocalypse,
will have the teacher to be intended by the eagle
there, for his quick insight into remote and hidden
tilings. The church of Duxbury had such an eagle
in their Partridge, when they enjoyed such a teacher.

By the same token, when the Platform of Church
Discipline was to be composed, the Synod at Cam-
bridge appointed three persons to draw up each of

66

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN" LITERATURE.

them, " a model of church-government, according to
the word of God," unto the end that out of those the
synod might form -what should be found most agree-
able ; which three persons were Mr. Cotton, and Mr.
Mather, and Mr. Partridge. So that, in the opinion
of that reverend assembly, this person did not come
far behind the first two for some of his accomplish-
ments.

After he had been forty years a faithful and pain-
ful preacher of the gospel, rarely, if ever, in all that
while interrupted in his work by any bodily sick-
ness, he died in a good old age, about the year 1G58.

There was one singular instance of a wearied spirit,
whereby he signalized himself unto the churches of
God. That was this : there was a time when most
of the ministers in the colony of Plymouth left the
colony, upon the discouragement which the want of
a competent maintenance among the needy and fro-
ward inhabitants gave unto tliem. Nevertheless
Mr. Partridge was, notwithstanding the paucity and
the poverty of his congregation, so afraid of being
anything that looked like a bird wandering from his
nest, that he remained with his poor people till he
took wing to become a bird of paradise, along with
the winged seraphim of heaven.

EPITAPHIUM.

Avolavit.

MINISTRY OF ANGELS — FROM " C(ELESTTNU8."

"When the Angel of the Lord encamps round about
those that fear Him, the next news is, They that
seek the Lord shall want nothing that is good for
them. O servant of God, art thou afraid of wants,
of straits, of difficulties? The angels who poured
down at least 250,000 bushels of manna day by day
unto the followers of God in the wilderness; the
angel that brought meat unto the Prophet; the
angel that showed Hagar and her son how to supply
themselves; who can tell what services they may do
for thee ! Art thou in danger by sicknesses ? The
angel who strengthened the feeble Daniel, the angel
who impregnated the waters of Bethesda with such
sanative and balsamic virtues; who can tell what
services they may do for thee ! Art thou iu danger
from enemies? The angel who rescued Jacob from
Laban and from Esau ; the angel who fetched Peter
out of prison, who can tell what services they may
do for thee 1 The angels which directed the Patri-
arch in his journeys, may give a direction to thy
steps, when thou art at a loss how to steer. The
angels who moved the Philistines to dismiss David ;
the angels who carried Lot out of Sodom ; the angels
who would not let the lions fall upon Daniel, they
are still ready to do as much for thee, when God
thy Saviour shall see it seasonable. And who can
tell what services the angels of God may do for the
servants of God, when their dying hour is coming
upon them; then to make their bed for them, then
to make all things easy to them. When we are
in our agonies, then for an angel to come and
strengthen us !

The holy angels, who have stood by us all our
life, will not forsake us at our death. It was the
last word of a Divine, dying in this, but famous in
other countries ; O you holy angels, come, do your
office. 'Tis a blessed office, indeed, which our Sa-
viour sends his holy angels to do for us in a dying
hour. At our dissolution they will attend us, they
will befriend us, they will receive us, they will do
inconceivable things as a oonvoy for us, to set us
before the presence of our Saviour with exceeding
joy. 0 believer, why art thou so afraid of dying?
What! afraid of coming into the loving and the
lovely hands of the holy angels I Afraid of going

from the caverns of the earth, which are full of bru-
tish people, and where thy moan was, My soul is
among lions, and I lie among them that are set on
fire, even among the sons of men ; and afraid of going
to dwell among those amiable spirits, who have
rejoiced in all the good they ever saw done unto
thee ; who have rejoiced in being sent by thy God
and theirs, times without number, to do good unto
thee ; who have rejoiced in the hopes of having thee
to be with them, and now have what they hoped for
by having thee associated with them in the satisfac-
tions of the heavenly world! Certainly, thou wilt
not be afraid of going to those, whom thou hast
already had so sweet a conversation with.

It was a good Memento written on the door of
a study that had much of Heaven in it: Angeli
Astant; there are Holy Angels at hand.

ON THE DEATH OF nIS SON.

on his gravestone, " Reserved for a glori-
ous Resurrection."

The exhortation of the Lord,

With consolation speaks to us,
As to his children his good word,

We must remember speaking thus :

My child, when God shall chasten thee,
His chastening do thou not contemn :

When thou his just rebukes dost see,
Faint not rebuked under them.

The Lord with fit afflictions will

Correct the children of his love ;
He doth himself their father still,

By his most wise corrections prove.

Afflictions for the present here,

The vexed flesh "will grievous call,
But afterwards there will appear,

Not grief, but peace, the end of alL

ON THE DEATH OF mS DAUGHTER.

The motto inscribed on her gravestone, " Gone, but not lost"
The dearest Lord of heaven gave

Himself an offering once for me :
The dearest thing on earth I have,
Now, Lord, I'll offer unto Thee.

I see my best enjoyments here,

Are loans, and flowers, and vanitie" ■

Ere well enjoyed they disappear:

Vain smoke, they prick and leave our eyes.

But I believe, 0 glorious Lord,

That when I seem to lose these toys,

What's lost will fully be restored
In glory, with eternal joys.

I do believe, that I and mine,

Shall come to everlasting rest;
Because, blest Jesus, we are thine,

And with thy promises are blest.

I do believe, that every bird

Of mine, which to the ground shall fall,
Does fall at thy kind will and word ;

Nor I, nor it, is hurt at all.

Now my believing soul does hear,

This among the glad angels told:
I know thou dost thy Maker fear,

From whom thou nothing dost withhold !

BENJAMIN TOMPSON".

Benjamin Tompson, "learned schoolmaster and
physician, and y" renowned poet of New Eng-
land," according to the eulogistic language of his
tombstone, was born in 1640, and graduated at
Harvard in 1662. He was master of the public

BENJAMIN TOMPSON.

67

school in Boston from 1667 to 1670, when he
received a call and removed to Cambridge. He
died April 13, 1714, and is buried at Roxbury .*

He was the author of an Elegy on the Rev.
Samuel Whiting of Lynn, who died December
11, 1679, which is printed in the Hagnalia. He
also figures in the same volume among the rhym-
ing eulogists at its commencement, where he turns
a compliment with some skill.
Quod patrios Manes revoensti a sedibus nltis,
Sylvestres Mubsb grates, Matuere, rependunt.
Haee nova Progenies, veterum sub Imagine, coelo
Arte tua terrain visitans, demissa, salutat.
Grata Deo pietas; grates persolvimus onines;
Semper honos, uomenque luum, Matheee, manebunt.

Is the bless'd Mather necromancer turn'd,
To raise His country's fatliers' ashes urn'd?
Elisha's dust, life to the dead imparts ;
This prophet, by his more familiar arts,
Unseals our heroes' tombs, and gives them air ;
They rise, they walk, they talk, look wondrous fair ;
Each of them in an oi'b of light doth shine,
In liveries of glory most divine.
When ancient names I in thy pages met,
Like gems on Aaron's costly breastplate set,
Methinks heaven's open, while great saints descend,
To wreathe the brows by which their acts were
penn'd.

His chief production is a poem entitled New Eng-
land's Crisis. The piece, after an eulogy on certain
patriotic women, who turned out to build a wall
for the defence of the town, gives a comparison
between old times and new in the colony, in which
he assigns the palm, as usual in such discussiotS,
at least in poetry, to the days gone by ; and then
passes to King Philip's war, with which the re-
mainder is occupied.

ON A FOETTFICATION AT BOSTON BEGUN BT WOltEN.

Dux fomvina fatdi,

A grand attempt some Amazonian Dames
Contrive whereby to glorify their names,
A ruff for Boston Neck of mud and turfe,
Reaching from side to side, from surf to surf,
Their nimble hands spin up like Christmas pyes,
Their pastry by degrees on high doth rise.
The wheel at home counts in an holiday,
Since while the mistress worketh it may play.
A tribe of female hands, but manly hearts,
Forsake at home their pasty crust and tarts,
To knead the dirt, the samplers down they hurl,
Their undulating silks they closely furl.
The piek-axe one as a commandress holds,
While t'other at her awk'ness gently scolds.
One puffs and sweats, the other mutters why
Cant you promove your work so fast as I ?
Some dig, some delve, and others' hands do feel
The little waggon's weight with single wheel.
And least some fainting-fits the weak surprize,
They want no sack nor cakes, they are more wise.
These brave essays draw forth male, stronger hands,
More like to dawbers than to marshal bands ;
These do the work, and sturdy bulwarks raise,
But the beginners well deserve the praise.

THE PEOLOGTTE.

The times wherein old Pompion was a saint,
When men fared hardly yet without complaint,
On vilest cntes; the dainty Indian maize
Was eat with clamp-shells out of wooden trays,

* Kettell's Specimens of American Poetry, Vol. i. xxxvii.

Under thatch'd hurts without the cry of rent,
And the best sawce to every dish, content.
When flesh was food and hairy skins made coats,
And men as well as birds had chirping notes.
When Cimnels were aceouuted noble bloud;
Among the tribes of common herbage food.
Of Ceres' bounty form'd was many a knack,
Enough to fill poor Robin's Almanack.
These golden times (too fortunate to hold,)
Were quickly sin'd away for love of gold.
T was then among the bushes, not the street,
If one in place did an inferior meet,
" Good morrow, brother, is there aught you want?
" Take freely of me, what I have you ha'nt."
Plain Tom and Dick would pass as current now.
As ever since " Your Servant Sir," and bow.
Deep-skirted doublets, puritanic capes,
Which now would render men like upright apes,
Was comlier wear, our wiser fathers thought,
Than the cast fashions from all Europe brought,
'T was in those days an honest grace would hold
Till an hot pudding grew at heart a cold.
And men had better stomachs at religion,
Than I to capon, turkey-cock, or pigeon ;
When honest sisters met to pray, not prate,
About their own and not their neighbour's state.
During Plain Dealing's reign, that worthy stud
Of the ancient planters' race before the flood,
Then times were good, merchants car'd not a rush
For'other fare than Jonakin and Mush.
Although men far'd and lodged very hard,
Yet innocence was better than a guard.
'T was long before spiders and worms had drawn
Their dungy webs, or hid with cheating lawne
New England's beautyes, which still seem'd to me
Illustrious in their own simplicity.
'T was ere the neighbouring Virgin-Land had broke
The hogsheads of her worse than hellish smoak.
'T was ere the Islands sent their presents in,
Which but to use was counted next to sin.
'T was ere a barge had made so rich a freight
As chocolate, dust-gold and bitts of eight.
Ere wines from France and Muscovadoe to,
Without the which the drink will scarsly doe.
From western isles ere fruits and delicacies
Did rot maids' teeth and spoil their handsome faces.
Or ere these times did chance, the noise of war
Was from our towns and hearts removed far.
No bugbear comets in the chrystal air
Did drive our christian planters to despair.
No sooner pagan malice peeped forth
But valour snib'd it. Then were men of worth
Who by their prayers slew thousands, angel-like;
Their weapons are unseen with which they strike.
Then had the churches rest ; as yet the coales
Were covered up in most contentious souls:
Freeness in judgment, union in affection,
Dear love, sound truth, they were our grand pro-
tection.
Then were the times in which our councells sate.
These gave prognosticks of our future fate.
If these be longer liv'd our hopes increase,
These warrs will usher in a longer peace.
But if New England's love die in its youth,
The grave will open next for blessed truth.
This theame is out of date, the peacefull hours
When castles needed not, but pleasant bowers.
Not ink, but bloud and tears now serve the turn
To draw the figure of New England's urne.
New England's hour of passion is at hand;
No power except divine can it withstand.
Scarce hath her glass of fifty years run out,
But her old prosperous steeds turn heads about.
Tracking themselves back to their poor beginnings,
To fear and fare upon their fruits of sinnings.

6S

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

So that the mirror of the christian world
Lyes burnt to heaps in part, her streamers furl'd.
Grief sighs, joyes flee, and dismal fears surprize
Not dastard spirits only, but the wise.
Thus have the fairest hopes deceiv'd the eye
Of the big-swoln expectant standing by :
Thus the proud ship after a little turn,
Sinks into Neptune's arms to find its urne:
Thus hath the heir to many thousands born
Been in an instant from the mother torn :
Even thus thine infant checks begin to pale,
And thy supporters through great losses fail.
This is the Prologue to thy future woe,
The Epilogue no mortal yet can know.

OUE FOREFATHERS' SONG.
This song is stated in the Massachusetts Histo-
rical Collections to have been " taken memoriter,
in 1785, from the lips of an old lady at the
advanced period of 96." It is also found in the
Massachusetts Magazine for January, 1791. Botli
copies are identical. It is of an early date, and
has been carried back to the year 1630. Four
lines in the stanza before the last appear missing.

New England's annoyances you that would know

them,
Pray ponder these verses which briefly doth shew

them.
The place where we live is a wilderness wood,
Where grass is much wanting that's fruitful and

good:
Our mountains and hills and our vallies below,
Being commonly covered with ice and with snow ;
And when the north-west wind with violence blows,
Then every man pulls his cap over his nose :
But if any's so hardy and will it withstand,
He forfeits a finger, a foot or a hand.

But when the Spring opens we then take the hoe,
And make the ground ready to plant and to sow ;
Our corn being planted and seed being sown,
The worms destroy much before it is grown ;
And when it is growing some spoil there is made,
By birds and by squirrels that pluck up the blade ;
And when it is come to full corn in the ear,
It is often destroyed by raccoon and by deer.

And now our garments begin to grow thin,
And wool is much wanted to card and to spin ;
If we can get a garment to cover without,
Our other in-garments are clout upon clout :
Our clothes we brought with us are apt to be torn,
They need to be clouted soon after they're worn,
But clouting our garments they hinder us nothing,
Clouts double, are warmer than single whole cloth-
ing.

If fresh meat be wanting, to fill up our dish,

We have carrots and turnips as much as we wish ;

And is there a mind for a delicate dish

We repair to the clam-banks, and there we catch

fish.
Instead of pottage and puddings, and custards and

pies,
Our pumpkins and parsnips are common supplies ;
We have pumpkins at morning, and pumpkins at

noon,
If it was not for pumpkins we should be undone.

If barley be wanting to make into malt.
We must be contented, and think it no fault ;
For we can make liquor to sweeten our lips,
Of pumpkins and parsnips ana walnut tree chips.

Now while some are going let others be coming,
For while liquor's boiling it must have a scumming;
But I will not blame them, for birds of a feather,
By seeking their fellows are flocking together.
But you whom the Lord intends hither to bring,
Forsake not the honey for fear of the sting ;
But bring both a quiet and contented mind,
And all needful blessings you surely will find.

THOMAS MAKIN.

Thomas Makin was the author of two Latin
poems addressed to James Logan, and found
among his papers after his death ; they are entitled,
Encomium Pennsylvania!, and In laudcs Pennsyl-
vania poema, seu descriptio Pennsylvania?, and
bear date in 1728 and 1729. The second is
" principally retained," as he phrases it, by Robert
Proud, who adds an English translation by him-
self, in his History of Pennsylvania. Makin
was an usher under George Keith,* in 1689, in
the Friends' Public Grammar School in Philadel-
phia, and succeeded him as principal in the follow-
ing year. He was frequently chosen clerk of the
Provincial Assembly, but his school not proving
productive, he removed to the interior.f His
verses describing the features of town and coun-
try appear to have been written for amusement,
and belong to the curiosities of literature. We
give a brief passage of both the rural and city
descriptions.

Hie avis est quaedam dulci celeberrima voce,
Qua; variare sonos usque canendo solet.

Hie avis est qusedam minima et pulcherrima pluinis,
Sugere qua; fiores usque volando solet.

Laide fugam muscaj in morem properare videtur,
Tanquam non oculis aspicienda diu.

Hie avis est qua;dam rubro formosa colore,

Gutture qua; pluinis est maculata nigris.
Hie avis est repeteus, Whip, Whip, Will, voce jocosu ;

Qua; tota verno tempore nocte canit.
Hie et aves alia;, quotquot generantur ab ovis,

Scribere jam quarmn nomina inane foret,
Innumera; volitare solent hie sa;pe columba; ;

Unde frequens multis obvia piseda datur.

Hie testate solet tanquam ttere gaudeat alto,
Tollere se ex summis ssepe acipenser aquis.

Qui salit ac resilit toties (mirabile visu)
In cymbas ingens pra;da aliquando cadit.

P.egius hie piseis miuime pretiosus habetur ;
Karior est at ubi, carior est et ibi.

'Tis here the mocking bird extends his throat,
And imitates the birds of ev'ry note ;
'Tis here the smallest of the feather'd train.
The humming bird, frequents the flow'ry plain.

* George Keith, celebrated both as an advocate and opponent
of the Quakers, was born in Aberdeen, and came to East
Jersey in 16S2, where be was appointed surveyor-general. He
was. as we have seen, at the bead of a school in Philadelphia
in 16S9. In 1691, after having made a propagandist tour in
New England, he left the sect with a few followers, tho
eeceders calling themselves Christian Quakers. He not long
after took orders in the Church of England, officiated about ii
year in New York and Boston, and travelled through the
settlements as a missionary. He returned to England in 17(;6,
and passed the remainder of his life as rector of Edburton in
Sussex. He published in 1706 a Journal of Travels from New
Hampshire to Caratuck, which was reprinted in 1S52 by the
Protestant Episcopal Historical Society, in the first volume of
their Collections, and a number of controversial works, which
were not deficient in energy.

+ Proud's History, ii. 861. Some Account of the Early Poets
and Poetry of Pennsylvania, by Joshua Francis Fisher. Penn.
Hist. Soc. Coll., vol. h., pt. 2, p. 78.

JOHN" JOSSELTN.

69

Its motion quick seems to elude the eye ;
It now a bird appears, and now a fly.

The various woodpeckers here charm the sight ;
Of mingled red, of beautious black and white.
Here whip-per-will ; a bird, whose fanci'd name
From its nocturnal note imagined, came.
Here, in the fall, large flocks of pigeons fly,
So numerous, that they darken all the sky.
Here other birds of ev'ry kind appear,
Whose names would be too long to mention here.

Large sturgeons num'rons crowd the Delaware ;
"Which, in warm weather, leap into the air;
So higli, that (strange to tell !) thej' often fly
Into the boats, which on the river ply !
That royal fish is little valu'd here ;
But where more scarce, 'tis more esteemed and dear.

Pulehra duos inter 6ita stat Philadelphia rivos;

Inter quos duo sunt millia longa via;.
Delawar hie major, Sculkil minor ille vocatur ;

India et Suevis notus uterque diu.
^Edibus ornatur multis urbs limite longo,

Qua; parva eniicuit tempore magna brevi.
Hie plateas mensor spatiis delineat recmis,

Et domui recto est ordine juneta domus.
Quinque sacra; hac a;des una numerantur in urbe,

Altera non etiam distat ab urbe procul.
Ex quibus una alias est qua; supereminet omnes ;

Cujus nondum ingeus perficiatur opus.
Prtecinit hie sacros divina melodia psalmos:

Et vox totius succinit inde chori.
Elevet hoc hominum mentes, et mulceat aures,

Sed cor devotum psallit in aure Dei.
Basis huic posita est excelsa; firma futurse

Turns, ubi dicunt a;ra sonora fore.
Hie in gymnasiis linguae doeentur et artes

Ingenua; ; multis doctor & ipse fui.
Una schola hie alias etiarn supereminet omnes

Romano et Grwco qua; docet ore loqui.

Fair Philadelphia next is rising seen,
Between two rivers plac'd, two miles between ;
The Delaware and Sculkil, new to fame,
Both ancient streams, j'et of a modern name,
The city, form'd upon a beautious plan,
Has many houses built, tho' late began ;
Rectangular the streets, direct and fair ;
And rectilinear all the ranges are.
Five houses here for sacred use are known,
Another stands not far without the town.
Of these appears one in a grander style,
But yet unfinished is the lofty pile.
Here psalms divine melodious accents raise,
And choral symphony sweet songs of praise:
To raise the mind, and sooth the pious ear ;
But God devoted minds doth always hear.
A lofty tow'r is founded on this ground,
For future bells to make a distant sound.
Here schools, for learning, and for arts, are seen ;
In which to many I've a teacher been :
But one, in teaching, doth the rest excel,
To know and speak the Greek and Latin welk

JOIIN JOSSELYK
Tiie first mention we have of John Josselyn is
from his own words, that he set sail for New
England April 26, and arrived at Boston on the
3d of July, 1638. Here he "presented his re-
spects to Mr. Winthrop the governor, and to Mr.
Cotton the teacher of Boston church, to whom he
delivered, from Mr. Francis Quarles the poet, the
translation of the 16, 25, 51, 88, 113, and 137
Psalms into English meter." lie returned to
England in October of the following year. A

storm which occurred on his voyage seems to have
made him poetical. He thus discourses :

And the bitter storm augments ; the "wild winds

wage
"War from all parts ; and join with the 6ea's rage.
The sad clouds sink in showers; you would have

thought,
That high-swoln-seas even unto Heaven had

wrought
And Heaven to seas descended : no star Bhown ;
Blind night in darkness, tempests and her own
Dread terrors lost; yet this dire lightning turns
To more fear'd light ; the sea with lightning burns.
The pilot knew not what to chuse or fly,
Art stood arnaz'd in ambiguity.

He thus commences the recital of his second
voyage.

I have heard of a certain merchant in the west of
England, who after many great losses, walking upon
the sea bank in a calm sun-shining day ; observing
the smoothness of the sea, coming in with a che-
quered or dimpled wave: Ah (quoth he) thou flat-
tering element, many a time hast thou inticed me to
throw myself and my fortunes into thy arms ; but
thou hast hitherto proved treacherous; thinking to
find thee a mother of increase, I have found thee to
be the mother of mischief and wickedness; yea the
father of prodigies; therefore, being now secure, I
will trust thee no more. But mark this man's reso-
lution a while after, periculum maris spes lucri
superat. So fared it with me, that having escaped
the dangers of one voyage, must needs put on a
resolution for a second, wherein I plowed many a
churlish billow with little or no advantage, but
rather to my loss and detriment. In the setting
down whereof I propose not to insist in a methodical
way, but according to my quality, in a plain and
brief relation as I have done already; for I perceive,
if I used all the art that possibly I could, it "would
be difficult to please all, for all men's eyes, ears, faith,
and judgments are not of a size. There be a sort of
stagnant stinking spirits, who, like flies, lie sucking
at the botches of carnal pleasures, and never tra-
velled so much sea as is between Heth ferry and
Lyon Key ; yet notwithstanding (sitting in the chair
of the scornful over their whists and draughts of
intoxication) I will desperately censure the relations
of the greatest travellers. It was a good proviso of
a learned man, never to report wonders, for in so
doing of the greatest he will be sure not to be be-
lieved, but laughed at, which certainly bewrays
their ignorance and want of discretion. Of fools
and madmen then I shall take no care, I will not
invite these in the least to honour me with a glance
from their supercilious eyes ; but rather advise them
to keep their inspection for their fine tougu'd ro-
mances and plays. This homely piece, I protest
ingenuously, is prepared for such only who well
know how to make use of their charitable construc-
tions towards works of this nature, to whom I submit
myself in all my faculties, and proceed in my second
voyage.

He sailed May 23d, 1663, and returned De-
cember 1, 1671 — the interval of eight and a half
years having been passed in New England. He
published, the year after his return, New Eng-
land's Rarities Discovered* In it he gives us a

* New England's Rarities Discovered in Birds, Beasts,
Fishes, Serpents, and Plants of that Country; Together with
the Physical and Chyrurjrical Remedies wherewith the Na-
tives constantly use to cure their Distempers, Wounds, and
Sores. Also a Perfect Description of an Indian Squa, in all

70

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

glimpse of Boston in 1663. " The buildings are
handsome, joining one another as in London, with
many large streets, most of them paved with
pebble stcSte; in the high street towards the
Common there are fair buildings, some of stone,
and at the east end of the town one amongst the
rest, built by the shore by Mr. Gibs a merchant,
which it is thought will stand him in less than
80001. before it be fully finished. The town is
not divided into parishes, yet they have three fair
meeting houses or churches, which hardly suffice
to receive the inhabitants and strangers that come
in from all parts."

He next issued a brief work entitled, An Ac-
count of Two Voyages to New England*

His books are mainly occupied with a view of
the natural history of the country, but he occa-
sionally gives us some hints of the inhabitants,
and is uniformly amusing. He also published in
1674, Chronological Observations of America,
from the year of the World to the year of Christ,
1673.

JOHN WILLIAMS,

The author of the Redeemed Captive, was born
at Roxbury, Massachusetts, December 16, 1664,
where his grandfather had settled in the year
1638, on his emigration from England. By the
aid of his maternal grandfather, William Park, he
received a liberal education, and was graduated
at Harvard at the age of nineteen. In the spring
of 1686 he became the first minister of Deerfield.
This was a post of unusual peril, as the place, then
a frontier settlement, the first houses in which
were erected in 1671, had suffered since 1675
continued attacks from the Indians engaged in
King Philip's war. It was burnt by these savages
after their slaughter of Captain Lathrop and his
company, on the 18th of September, 1675, and
the site was not again permanently occupied by
the whites until 1682. In 1693, depredations re-
commenced. Attacks were made from time to
time on the fort by parties of French and Indians,
and on the 29th February (O.S.) 1704, the place
was taken, destroyed by fire, some thirty-eight
of the townspeople slain, and about one hundred
carried into captivity, among whom were Mr.
"Williams, his wife (who was murdered on the
route), and children. They were marched through
the wilderness to Montreal, where they arrived
about the end of March. They remained in Ca-
nada until October 25, 1706, when fifty-seven

her Bravery; -with a Poem not improperly conferred upon
her. Lastly, a chronological table of the most remarkable pas-
sages in that country among the English. Illustrated with
cuts. By John Josselyn, Gent. London, printed for G. Wid-
dows. 1672.

* An Account of Two Voyages to New England; wherein
you have the setting out of a ship with the charges, &c. By
John Josselyn, Gent. Menner. distich rendred English by
Dr. Heylin.

Heart, take thine ease,
Men hard to please

Thou haply inight'st offend,
Though one speak ill
Of thee, some will

Say better; there's an end.
London, printed by Giles Widdows, at the Green Dragon
In St. Paul's Churchyard, 1674

were removed in a vessel sent from Boston to
that city, where they arrived on the 21st of No-
vember following. A portion of the remainder
had fallen from fatigue or violence on the march
or died during their captivity, and some preferred
to remain with their Indian captors. Williams
with two of his children returned, and in the
March following published his work on his cap-
tivity,* one of the most interesting productions in
our early literature.

He was invited immediately after his arrival to
return to Deerfield, and, although' the situation
was still perilous, ventured on his old field of
labor. Here lie married a daughter of Captain
Allen, of Windsor, Connecticut. The town had
been rebuilt after its destruction in 1704, and
was again attacked in 1709, but the assailants,
finding the inhabitants prepared to give them a
warm reception, withdrew. Soon after this
Williams was appointed a commissioner in the
expedition to Canada, under the command of
Col. Stoddard, undertaken to redeem the prisoners
yet remaining there. The attempt was success-
ful in several instances, but not in obtaining the
daughter of Mr. Williams. The remainder of his
life was passed in comparative tranquillity, and
he died at Deerfield, June 12, 1729, leaving eight
children.

The Redeemed Captive has been frequently
reprinted. The last edition (published by Hop-
kins, Bridgman & Co., Northampton, Mass.) is
excellently edited with a life of the writer, to
which we have been mainly indebted in the
present sketch, and an account of his descendants
by one of their number, Dr. Stephen W. Williams.
We present a passage from the record of the
perilous and painful journey.

We travelled not far the first day ; God made the
heathen so to pity our children, that though they
had several wounded persons of their own to carry
upon their shoulders, for thirty miles, before they
came to the river, yet they carried our children,
incapable of travelling, in their arms, and upon their
shoulders. When we came to our lodging place,
the first night, they dug away the snow, and made
some wigwams, cut down some small branches of
the spruce-tree to lie down on, and gave the prison-
ers somewhat to eat ; but we had but little appetite.
I was pinioned and bound down that night, and so
I was every night whilst I was with the army.
Some of the enemy who brought drink with them
from the town fell to drinking, and in their drunken
fit they killed my negro man, the only dead person
I either saw at the town, or in the way.

In the night an Englishman made his escape ; in
the morning (March 1), I was called for, and ordered
by the general to tell the English, that if any more
made their escape, they would burn the rest of the
prisoners. He that took me was unwilling to let
me speak with any of the prisoners, as we marched ;
but on the morning of the second day, he being ap-
pointed to guard the rear, I was put into the hands
of my other master, who permitted me to speak to
my wife, when I overtook her, and to walk with her

* The Redeemed Captive returning to Zion : or a faithful
history of remarkable occurrences in the captivity and deliver-
ance of Mr. John Williams, Minister of the Gospel in Deerfield,
who in the desolation which befel that plantation by an incur-
sion of the French and Indians, was by them carried awav.
with his family and his neighbourhood, into Canada. Drawn
up by himself.

JOHN LEDERER.

71

to help her in her journey. On the way, we dis-
coursed of the happiness of those who had a right to
an house not made with hands, eternal in the
heavens ; and God for a father and friend ; as also,
that it was our reasonable duty quietly to submit to
the will of God, and to say, " The will of the Lord
be done." My wife told me her strength of body
began to fail, and that I must expect to part with
her; saying, she hoped God would preserve my
life, and the life of some, if not of all our children
with us ; and commended to me, under God, the
care of them. She never spake any discontented
word as to what had befallen us, but with suitable
expressions justified God iu what had happened.
We soon made a halt, in which time my chief sur-
viving master came up, upon which I was put upon
marching with the foremost, aud so made my last
farewell of my dear wife, the desire of my eyes, and
companion in many mercies and afflictions. Upon
our separation from each other, we asked for each
other grace sufficient for what God should call us
to. After our being parted from one another, she
spent the few remaining minutes of her stay in
reading the Holy Scriptures ; which she was wont
personally every day to delight her soul in reading,
praying, meditating on, by herself, in her closet,
over and above what she heard out of them iu our
family worship. I was made to wade over a small
river, and so were all the English, the water above
knee deep, the stream very swift ; and after that to
travel up a small mountain ; my strength was
almost spent, before I came to the top of it. No
sooner had I overcome the difficulty of that ascent,
but I was permitted to sit down, and be unburdened
of my pack. I sat pitying those who were behind,
and entreated my master to let me go down and
help my wife ; but he refused, and would not let me
stir from him. I asked each of the prisoners (as
they passed by me) after her, aud heard that,
passing through the above-said river, she fell down,
and was plunged over head and ears in the water ;
after which she travelled not far, for at the foot of
that mountain, the cruel and blood-thirsty savage
who took her slew her with his hatchet at one
stroke, the tidings of which were very awfuL Aud
yet such was the hard-heartedness of the adversary,
that my tears were reckoned to me as a reproach.
My loss and the loss of my children was great; our
hearts were so filled with sorrow, that nothing but
the comfortable hopes of her being taken away, in
mercy to herself, from the evils we were to see, feel,
and suffer under, (and joined to the assembly of the
epirits of just men made perfect, to rest in peace,
and joy unspeakable and full of glory, and the good
pleasure of God thus to exercise us,) could have kept
us from sinking under, at that time. That Scrip-
ture, Job i. 21, " Naked came I out of my mother's
womb, and naked shall I return thither : the Lord
gave, aud the Lord hath taken away ; blessed be the
name of the Lord," — -was brought to my mind, and
from it, that an afflicting God was to be glorified ;
with some other places of Scripture, to persuade to
a patient bearing my afflictions.

We were again called upon to march, with a far
heavier burden on my spirits than on my back. I
begged of God to overrule, in his providence, that
the corpse of one so dear to me, and of one whose
spirit he had taken to dwell with him in glory,
might meet with a Christian burial, and not be left
for meat to the fowls of the air and beasts of the
earth , a mercy that God graciously vouchsafed to
grant. For God put it into the hearts of my neigh-
bors, to come out as far as she lay, to take up her
corpse, carry it to the town, and decently to bury it
soon after. In our march they killed a sucking in-

fant of one of my neighbors ; and before night a girl
of about eleven years of age. I was made to mourn,
at the consideration of my flock being, so far, a flock
of slaughter, many being slain iu the town, and so
many murdered in so few miles from the town ;
and from fears what we must yet expect, from such
who delightfully imbrued their hands in the blood
of so many of His people. When we came to our
lodging place, an Indian captain from the eastward
spake to my master about killing me, and taking off
my scalp. I lifted up my heart to God, to implore
his grace aud mercy in such a time of need ; and
afterwards I told my master, if he intended to lull
me, I desired he would let rue know of it; assuring
him that my death, after a promise of quarter, would
bring the guilt of blood upon him. He told me he
would not kill me. We laid down and slept, for
God sustained and kept us.

Mr. S. G. Drake, of Boston, has preserved in
his Indian Captivities, and Booh of the Indians,
a number of original narratives, of a character
similar to that of Williams, forming a collection
of much historical value. These will always
retain their place in popular interest, but from
their necessary resemblance of subject and treat-
ment to the " Redeemed Captive," do not call
for separate notice.

JOHN LEDEEEE.

Jonsr Ledeeer, the first explorer of the AUe-
ganies, prepared an account of his Three
several Marches from Virginia to the toest of
Carolina and other parts of the continent, begun
in March, 1669, and ended in September, 1670;*
in Latin, which was translated by Sir William
Talbot, and published in 1672. The address to
the reader, by Talbot, informs us,

That a stranger should presume (though with Sir
William Berkly's commission) to go into those parts
of the American continent where Englishmen never
had been, and whither some refused to accompany
him, was, in Virginia, looked on as so great an inso-
lence, that our traveller, at his return, instead of
welcome and applause, met nothing but affronts and
reproaches; for, indeed, it was their part that for-
sook him in the expedition, to procure him discredit
that was a witness to theirs. Therefore no industry
was wanting to prepare men with a prejudice
against him, and this their malice improved to such
a general animosity, that he was not safe in Vir-
ginia from the outrage of the people, drawn into a
persuasion, that the public levy of that year went
all to the expense of his vagaries. Forced by this
storm into Maryland, he became known to me,
though then ill affected to the man, by the stories
that went about of him. Nevertheless, finding him,
contrary to my expectation, a modest, ingenious per-
son, and a pretty scholar, I thought it common jus-
tice to give him an occasion of vindicating himself
from what I had heard of him ; which truly he did,
with so convincing reason and circumstance as quite
abolished those former impressions in me, and made
me desire this account of his Travels.

Lederer does not appear in either of his ex-
peditions to have penetrated further than, in his

* The Discoveries of John Lederer, in three sever.il marches
from Virginia, to the west of Carolina, and other parts of the
continent: be^un in March 1660, and ended in September 1G70.
Together with A general Map of the whole Territory which he
traversed. Collected and Translated out of Latine, from his
Discourse and Writings, by Sir William Talbot, Baronet,
London: printed by J. C, for Samuel Ileyrick, 1672.

72

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

own words, " to the top of the Apalata?an moun-
tains." His tract contains but twenty-seven
quarto pages, a portion of which is tilled with
accounts of the Indians. His "Conjectures of
the Land beyond the Apalatcean Mountains " are
curious :

They are certainly in a great error, who imagine
that the continent of North America is but eight or
ten da3-s' journey over from the Atlantic to the In-
dian ocean: which all reasonable men must acknow-
ledge, if they consider that Sir Francis Drake kept
a west-north-west course from Cape Mendocino to
California. Nevertheless, by what I gathered from
the stranger Indians at Akeuatzy, of their voyage
by sea to the very mountains from a far distant
north-west country, I am brought over to their
opinion who think that the Indian ocean does
stretch an arm or bay from California into the con-
tinent, as far as the Apalatcean mountains, answer-
able to the gulfs of Florida and Mexico on this side.
Yet I am far from believing with some, that such
great and navigable rivers are to be found on the
other side of the Apalatoeans falling into the Indian
ocean, as those which run from them to the east-
ward. My first reason is derived from the know-
ledge and experience we already have of South
America, whose Andes send the greatest rivers in
the world (as the Amazon and the Rio de la Plata,
&c.) into the Atlantiek, but none at all into the
Pacifique Sea. Another argument is, that all our
waterfowl, which delight in lakes and rivers, as
swanB, geese, ducks, <fee., come over the mountains
from the lake of Canada, when it is frozen over
every winter, to our fresh rivers : which they would
never do, could they find any on the other side of
the Apalatoeans.*

FEANCIS KNAPP.
Francis Knapp, the son of George Knapp, of
Chilton, in Berkshire, was born in the year 1672,
and matriculated at St. John's college, Oxford.f
His father, a captain in the British navy, com-'
mantled a ninety-gun ship on the American coast
in the early part of the last century. The son
came to America to take possession of some lands
acquired by his grandfather at Watertown, near
Boston, where he passed the remainder of his
life, engaged in the quiet pursuits of a scholar.
He was a composer of music, and the author of
a poetical Ejihtle to Mr. B., reprinted in J. |
Nichols's " Select Collection of Poems, 1780," and
of a poetical address to Mr. Pope, on his Wind-
sor Forest, dated June 7, 1715, which appears
among the commendatory poems prefixed to the
first and subsequent editions of that poet's works.
It is claimed by Samuel L. Knapp, in his Ameri-
can Biography, as an American production, but
in a note by William Roscoe to his edition of
Pope, is said to have been written in Killala,
Mayo county, Ireland.

The Epistle in Nichols is a well-penned satire
on the author tribe, with an ungenerous flin<r at

* "A Mapp of Virginia discovered to ye Hills,11 1651, makes
the distance less than three hundred miles from the southern-
most cape of Delaware to ''the Sea of China, and the Indies/'
The author of "A Perfect Description of Virginia," sent from
Virginia at the request of a gentleman of worthy note, who
desired to know the true state of Virginia as it now stands, re-
printed in Vol. ix. of the Second Series Mass. Hist Soc. Coll.,
has a similar opinion with Lederer as to rivers running west
from the Alleganies. Account by John Penington. of Plan-
tagenet's New Albion. Penn. Hist. MemoirB, Vol. iv. pt, 1.

t Wood's Ath. Oxon., Ed. Bliss.

Wesley, and a humorous preference of Eymer
over Dryden, while the author deprecates an
act of parliament which should restrain the race
of poetasters.

I grant you, such a course as this might do
To make them humbly treat of what thej- know,
Not venturing further than their brains will go.
But what should I do then, for ever spoil'd
Of this diversion which frail authors yield?
I should no more on Lunton's counter meet,
Bards that are deeply skill'd in rhyme and feet;
For I am charm'd with easy nonsense more,
Thau all the wit that men of sense adore.
With fear I view great Drydeu's hallow'd page,
With fear I view it, and 1 read with rage.
I'm all with fear, with grief, and love possest,
Tears in my eyes, and anguish in my breast,
While I with mourning Anthony repine :
And all the hero's miseries are mine.
If I read Edgar, then my soul's at peace,
Lull'd in a lazy state of thoughtless ease.
No passion's ruffled by the peaceful lay,
No stream, no depth, to hurry me away ;
Rymer in both professions harmless proves,
Nor wounds when critic, nor wheu poet moves.

The lines prefixed to Pope announce a man of
wit and taste, by whose presence Watertown
should have been the gainer.

Hail, sacred Bard ! a Muse unknown before
Salutes thee from the bleak Atlantic shore.
To our dark world thy shining page is shown,
And Windsor's gny retreat becomes our own.
The Eastern pomp had just bespoke our care,
And India poured her gaudy treasures here:
A various spoil adorned our naked land,
The pride of Persia glittered on our strand,
And China's Earth was cast on common sand :
Tossed up and down the glossy fragments lay,
And dressed the rocky shelves, and paved the painted

bay.
Thy treasures next arrived : and now we boast
A nobler cargo on our barren coast :
From thy hixnta ;t Forest we receive
More lasting glories than the East can give.

Where'er we dip in thy delightful page,
What pompous scenes our busy thoughts engage I
The pompous scenes in all their pride appear,
Fresh in the page, as in the grove they were.
Nor half so true the fair Lodona shows
The sylvan state that on her border grows,
While she the wandering shepherd entertains
With a new Windsor in her watery plains ;
Thy juster lays the lucid wave surpass,
The living scene is in the Muse's glass.
Nor sweeter notes the echoing forests cheer,
When Philomela sits and warbles there,
Than when you sing the greens and opening glades,
And give us Harmony as well as Shades:
A Titian's hand might draw the grove, but you
Can paint the grove, and add the music too.

In the New England Weekly Journal for June
28, 1731, we have met with a poem, hitherto
unnoticed, descriptive of Watertown, worthy of
Knapp's pen — of which the reader may judge by
a few passages, marking an early and true employ-
ment of American incidents : —

A NEW ENGLAND POND.

Of ancient streams presume no more to tell,
The fam'd Castalian or Pierian well.
Fresh-pond superior, must those rolls confess,
As much as Cambridge yields to Rome or Greece:

BENJAMIN COLMAN.

73

More limpid water ean no fountain show,

A fairer bottom or a smoother brow;

A painted world its peaceful gleam contains

The heavenly arch, the bord'ring groves and plains:

Here in mock silver Cynthia seems to roll,

And trusty pointers watch the frozen pole.

Here sages might observe the wand' ring stars,

And rudest swains commence astrologers:

Along the brim the lovely plover stalks

And to his visionary fellow talks:

Amid the wave the vagrant blackbird sees,

And tries to perch upon the imag'd trees;

On flying clouds the simple bullocks gaze

Or vainly reach to crop the shad'wy grass;

From uei'bring hills the stately horse espies

Himself a feeding and himself envies.

Hither pursu'd by op'uiug hounds the hare

Blesses himself to see a forest near,

The waving shrubs he takes for real wood,

And boldly plunges in the yielding flood.

On tins side willows hem the basin round,

There graceful trees the promontory crown,

Whose mingled tufts and outspread arms compose

A shade delightful to the laurell'd brows ;

Here mossy couches tempt to pleasing dreams

The love-sick soul, and ease the weary limbs: —

No noxious snake disperses poison here,

Nor screams of night bird read the twilight air.

Excepting him who when the groves are still,

Hums aui'rous tunes and whispers whip-poor-will,

To hear whose carol elves in circles trip.

And lovers' hearts within their bosoms leap,

Whose savage notes the troubled mind amuse,

Banish despair, and hold the falling dews.

No ghastly horrors conjure tho'ts of woe,

Or dismal prospects to the fancy show.

Bir.DS AND FISHES.

Hither ye bards for inspiration come,
Let every other fount but this be dumb.
Which way soe'er your airy genius leads.
Receive your model from these vocal shudes.
Wou'd you in homely pastoral excel,
Take pattern from the merry piping quail;
Observe the blue-bird for a roundelay,
The chattering p3~e or ever babbling jay.
The plaintive dove the soft love verse can teach,
And mimic thrush to imitators preach.
In Pindar's strain the lark salutes the dawn,
The lyric robin chirps the evening on.
For poignant satire mind the mavis well,
And hear the sparrow for a madrigal.
For ev'ry sense a pattern here you have,
From strains heroic down to humble stave.
Not Phoebus' self, altho' the God of verse,
Could hit such fine and entertaining airs ;
Nor the fair maids who round the fountain sate,
Such artless heav'nly music modulate.
Each thicket seems a Paradise renew'd,
The soft vibrations fire the moving blood.
Each sense its part of sweet delusion shares,
The scenes bewitch the eye, the song the ears.
Pregnant with scent each wind regales the smell,
Like cooling sheets th' enwrapping breezes feel.
During the dark, if poets' eyes we trust,
These lawns are haunted by some swarthy ghost.
Some Indian prince who, fond of former joys,
With bow and quiver thro' the shadow plies;
He can't in death his native grove forget,
But leaves Elyzium for his ancient seat.
O happy pond, hadst thou in Grecia flowM,
The bounteous blessing of some watry God,
Or had some Ovid sung this liquid rise,
Distill'd, perhaps, from slighted Virgil's eyes.
Well is thy worth in Indian story known,

Thy living lymph and fertile borders shown,
Thy various flocks the cover'd shore can shun,
Drove by the fowler and the fatal gun.
Thy shining roach and yellow bristly breme,
The piek'rel, rav'nous monarch of the stream,
The perch, whose back a ring of colours shows,
The horny pout, who courts the slimy ooze,
The eel serpentine, some of dubious race,
The tortoise witli his golden spotted ease ;
Thy hairy musk rat, whose perfume defies
The balmy odour of Arabian skies;
The throng of Harvard know thy pleasures well,
Joys too extravagant, perhaps, to tell ;
Hither ofttiuies the learned tribe repair,
When Sol returning warms the glowing year.

BENJAMIN COLMAN.
Benjamin' Colman was born in Boston, Oct. 19,
1073. He entered "young and small" into the
school of Ezekiel Cheever, by whom he was pre-
pared for Harvard college, where he was graduated
in 1692. He began to preach in the following year
at Medford, near Bostun, and in 1695, embarked
for England. The mother country was then at
war with France, and the ship was attacked by a
French privateer. Mr. Colman took a gallant part
in her defence, and " was exposed all the while on
the quarter-deck, where four out of seven were
wounded, and one mortally. He was much praised
for his courage when the fight was over ; but
though he charged and discharged like the rest,
yet he declared he was sensible of no courage, but
of a great deal of fear, and when they had received
two or three broadsides, he wondered when bis
courage would come, as he had heard others talk.
In short, he fought like a philosopher and a Chris-
tian."* The vessel was captured, and all on board
taken to France, where Mr. Colman was tor some
time imprisoned, until an exchange of prisoners
between the two belligerents enabled him to visit
England, where he preached several times with
great success, and gained the friendship of Bates,
Calamy, Howe, and other leading dissenting minis-
ters. He was urged to remain in London, but in
1699 receiving a call from a number of leading
citizens of Boston, who had built the Brattle street
church, to become their first minister, he accepted
it, and consequently returned to Boston, where ho
arrived "after a long eight weeks' sick passage,"
on the first of November. The congregation was
formed in opposition to the Cambridge platform,
and the remaining churches of Boston refused,
for some }'ears, to hold communion with its minis-
ter.')' He continued his connexion with the con-
gregation until his death in 1747, preaching to
them on the last Sunday of his life. He was held
in great esteem as a pulpit orator, received the
degree of D.D. from the University of Glasgow in
1731, and a large number of his sermons were
published. In 1724 he was elected president of
Harvard college, but declined the office. He was,
however, a good friend to the institution, and
also to Yale, procuring for both many donations
from his English as well as American friends.
He was thrice married and left a numerous family.
The Rev. Ebenezer Turell, who married bis daugh-
ter in 1749, published a life of her father, from

* Life by the Rev. Ebenezer Turell, p. G,
t Eliot's Bio;;. Diet.

74

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

which the materials of this sketch have been de-
rived. It forms a quarto volume of over two
hundred pages, and deserves high commendation
among American biographies. Dr. Colman wrote
a short poem, Elijah's Translation, on the death
of the Rev. Samuel Willard, 1707, and a few oc-
casional verses and poetical epistles are preserved
in his life. He also wrote a tract in favor of in-
oculation for the small-pox, in 1721.

ELIJAH'S ASCENSION.

'Twas at high noon, the day serene and fair,
Mountains of lum'nous clouds rolled in the air,
When on a sudden, from the radiant skies,
Superior light flashed in Elisha's eyes ;
The heavens were cleft, and from th' imperial throne
A stream of glory, dazzling splendor shone :
Beams of ten thousand suns shot round about,
The sun and every blazoned cloud went out:
Bright hosts of angels lined the heavenly way,
To guard the saint up to eternal day.
Then down the steep descent, a chariot bright,
And steeds of fire, swift as the beams of light.
Winged seraphs ready 6tood, bowed low to greet
The favorite saint, and hand him to his seat.
Enthroned he sat, transformed with joys his mien,
Calm his gay soul, and like his face serene.
His eye and burning wishes to his God,
Forward he bowed, and on the triumph rode.
Saluted, as he passed the heavenly cloud,
With shouts of joy, and hallelujahs loud.
Ten thousand thousand angel-trumpets sound,
And the vast realms of heaven all echoed round.

TO T7BANIA ON THE DEATH OF HEE FIF.ST AND ONLY CHILD.

Why mourns my beauteous friend bereft ?
Her Saviour and her heaven are left :
Her lovely babe is there at rest,
In Jesus' arms embraced and blest.

Would you, Urania, wish it down
From yon bright Throne and shining Crown ?
To your cold arms and empty breast,
Could Heaven indulge you the request ;
Your bosom's neither warm nor fair,
Compared with Abraham's : leave it there.

He the famed father of the just,
Beheld himself but earth and dust,
Before the will of God most high,
And bid his darling Isaac die.

When Heaven required in sacrifice
The dear desire of his eyes.;
And more to prove his love commands
The offering from the Father's hands ;
See how th' illustrious parent yields,
And seeks Moriah's mournful fields.

He bound his lovely only child
For death ; his soul serene and mild,
He reached his hand, and grasped the knife,
To give up the devoted life.
Less Heaven demands of thee, my friend ;
And less thy faith shall recommend.
All it requires is to resign,
To Heaven's own act and make it thine,
By silence under discipline.

The least we to our Maker owe !
The least, Urania, you did vow !
The least that was your Saviour's claim,
When o'er your babe his glorious Name
Was called in awful Baptism ! Then
You gave it back to Heaven again.

You freely owned that happy hour,
Heaven's right, propriety, and power,
The loan at pleasure to resume,
And call the pretty stranger home.

A witness likewise at its birth

I stood, that hour of joy and mirth:
I saw your thankful praises rise,
And flow from pleased, uplifted eyes
With raised devotion, one accord,
We gave the infant to its Lord.

And think, Urania, ere that day,
While the fair fruit in secret lay,
Unseen, yet loved within the womb
(Which also might have been its tomb).
How oft, before it blest your sight,
In secret prayers, with great delight,
You did recognize Heaven's right.

Now stand by these blest acts, my friend ;
Stand firmly by them to the end.
Now you are tried, repeat the act ;
Too just, too glorious to retract.

Think, dear Urania, how for thee,
God gave his only Son to be
An offering on the cursed tree.

Think, how the Son of God on earth
(The spotless Virgin's blessed birth), .
Our lovely babes took up and blest,
And them high heirs of Heaven contest !

Think, how the blest of Woman stood,
While impious hands, to the cursed wood,
Nailed down her only Son and God !

Learn hence, Urania, to be dumb !
Learn thou the praise that may become
Thy lighter grief, which Heaven does please
To take such wondrous ways to ease.

Adore the God who from thee takes
No more than what he gives and makes:
And means in tenderest love the rode
To serve to thy eternal good.

WILLIAM BYED.

In 1841, Edmund Ruffin, of "Virginia, prepared
for the press and published a volume entitled
The Westover Manuscripts* It was the produc-
tion of a gentleman once much celebrated in
the Old Dominion, whose story cannot be better
told for our purpose than in the distinguished
recital of the inscription upon the monument
which covers his remains in the garden of his
once splendid Estate of Westover, on the north
bank of James River. " Here lieth the Honor-
able William Byrd, Esq., being born to one of the
amplest fortunes in this country, he was sent early
to England for his education ; where, under the
care and direction of Sir Robert Southwell, and
ever favoured with his particular instructions, he
made a happy proficiency in polite and various
learning. By the means of the same noble friend,
he was introduced to the acquaintance of many
of the first persons of that age for knowledge,
wit, virtue, birth, or high station, and particularly
contracted a most intimate and bosom friendship
with the learned and illustrious Charles Boyle,
Earl of Orrery. He was called to the bar in the
Middle Temple, studied for some time in the Low
Countries, visited the court of France, and was
chosen Fellow of the Royal Society. Thus emi-
nently fitted for the service and ornament of his
country, he was made receiver general of his ma-
jesty's revenues here, was thrice appointed public
agent to the court and ministry of England, and

* The Westover Manuscripts : containing the History of the
Dividing Line betwixt Virginia and North Carolina; aJourney
to the tand of Eden, a.d. 1783 ; and a Progress to the Mines.
Written from 172S to 1T36, and now first published. By Wil-
liam Byrd, of Westover. Petersburg: Printed by Edmund
and Julian C. Euffln. 1841. Large 8vo. pp. 143.

WILLIAM BYRD.

'75

being thirty-seven years a member, at last became
president of the council of this colony. To all
this were added a great elegancy of taste and life,
the well-bred gentleman and polite companion,
the splendid economist and prudent father of a
family, with the constant enemy of all exorbitant
power, and hearty friend to the liberties of his
coimtry. Nat. Mar. 28, 1674. Mort. Aug. 26,
1744. An. SBtat. 70."

The gentleman thus described, a man of plea-
sure and literature, at the age of fifty-four, set out
with a select party, composed of two fellow Vir-
ginian commissioners, Riclnvrd Fitz- William and
William Dandridge ; two surveyors, William
Mayo, and the mathematical professor of William
and Mary, Alexander Irvin ; with the Eeverend
Peter Fountain* as chaplain, and a party of seven-
teen woodmen and hunters, for the purpose of
meeting a similar body of commissioners of North
Carolina to draw the boundary line between the
two states. There were two expeditions for tins
purpose, one in the spring, the other in the fall
of the year 1728. Ool. Byrd conducted the Vir-
ginia party gallantly and safely through its perils
on what was then a tour of discovery, and on his
return to his seat at Westover caused his notes
of the journey to be fairly copied, and revised
them with his own hand. As now printed they
form one of the most characteristic and entertain-
ing productions of the kind ever written. They
have that sharp outline in description and fresh-
ness of feeling in sentiment which marks the best
Virginia tracts of Captain John Smith and his
fellows a century earlier ; with a humor of a more
modern date derived from a good natural vein
and the stores of experience of a man acquainted
with books, and of society in intimacy with what
was best in the old world and the new ; and more-
over of that privileged license of fortune which
permits a man to please others by first pleasing
himself. Col. Byrd is a little free in his language
at times, but that belongs to the race of hearty
livers of his century. There are touches in the
Journal worthy of Fielding ; indeed it is quite in
the vein of his exquisite Journey from London to
Lisbon.

The business of the expedition is narrated in
a clear, straightforward manner. It had its diffi-
culties in encounters with morasses, pocosons, and
slashes, beginning with the Dismal Swamp ; and
there was occasionally a rainy day and sometimes
a prospect of short commons. But it was free from
any serious disasters, and, at the worst, seems
never to have overpowered the good humor of its
leader; showing that however daintily he may
have been brought up, there is nothing like the
spirit of a gentleman and a scholar in encounter-
ing hardships. A good portion of this pleasant
narrative is taken up with accounts of the scenery,
the Indians, and the large stock of game and
"varmint" which gave employment to the hunters
of the party, and doubtless furnished the staple
of the highly-flavored stories of the "Manuscripts"

* The son of the Eev. James Fontaine, i Huiruenot refugee,
on the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, who settled in Ire-
land and prepared an Autobiography for "the use of all his
children,"which is printed with valuable illustrative matter in
the " Memoirs of a Huguenot Family," in a second edition,
New York, 1S53. by Ann Maury, one of his numerous descen-
dants. The volume includes a sermon and several letters by
the clergyman of Westover.

over the camp kettle at night. In the early parts
no little wit is expended upon the traditional
traits of character of the North Carolinians, who
fare no better in Byrd's hands than the Yankees
or the Dutchmen in the annals of Diedrich
Knickerbocker. The inhabitants of the vicinity
of Coratuck inlet seem to have furnished some
extraordinary specimens of humanity in those
days — one in particular of a marooner whose sole
dress was his beard, and whose subsistence was
" chiefly upon oysters, which bis handmaid made
a shift to gather from the adjacent rocks." To
which he adds, " thus did these wretches live in
a state of nature, and were mere Adamites, inno-
cence only excepted." The disputed ground of
the boundary was then a refuge for runaway
debtors, of whom we are told : " Nor were these
worthy borderers content to shelter runaway
slaves, but debtors and criminals have often met
with the like indulgence. But if the government
of North Carolina has encouraged this unneigh-
bourly policy in order to increase their people, it
is no more than what ancient Borne did before
them, which was made a city of refuge for all
debtors and fugitives, and from that wretched
beginning grew up in time to be mistress of a
great part of the world. And, considering how
fortune delights in bringing great things out of
small, who knows but Carolina may, one time or
other, come to be the seat of some other great
em] lire?"

As for religion, these careless settlers seem to
be quite without it, as recorded by Col. Byrd,
on occasion of a Sunday service when part of his
company were in the perils of the Dismal Swamp :
" In these sad circumstances, the kindest tiling
we could do for our suffering friends was to give
them a place in the Litany. Our chaplain, for
his part, did his office, and rubbed us up with a
seasonable sermon. This was quite a new thing
to our brethren of North Carolina, who live in a
climate where no clergyman can breathe, any
more than spiders in Ireland." Arriving at
Edenton we are told : " I believe this is the only
metropolis in the Christian or Mahometan world,
where there is neither church, chapel, mosque,
synagogue, or any other place of public worship
whatsoever. What little devotion there may
happen to be is much more private than their
vices. The people seem easy without a minister,
as long as they are exempted from paying him.
Sometimes the Society for propagating the Gos-
pel has had the charity to send over missionaries
to this country ; but unfortunately the priest has
been too lewd for the people, or, which oftener
happens, they are too lewd for the priest. For
these reasons these reverend gentlemen have al-
ways left their flocks as arrant heathen as they
found them. Thus much however may be said for
the inhabitants of Edenton, that not a soul has
the least taint of hypocrisy, or superstition, acting
very frankly and above-board in all their excess-
es." There is also a hint for the Virginian clergy,
which his friend Fountain could have stood in no
need of : "We christened two of our landlord's
children, which might have remained infidels all
their lives, had not we carried Christianity home
to his own door. The truth of it is, our neigh-
bours of North Carolina are not so zealous as to
go much out of their way to procure this benefit

76

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN" LITERATURE.

for their children : otherwise, being so near Vir-
ginia, they might, without exceeding much
trouble, make a journey to the next clergyman,
upon so good an errand. And indeed should the
neighbouring ministers, once in two or three
years, vouchsafe to take a turn among these gen-
tiles, to baptize them and their children, it would
look a little apostolical, and they might hope to
be requited for it hereafter, if that be not thought
too long to tarry for their reward." The terms
of expression in these sentences show the ready
wit, and there is here and there a moderate
allowance for poetry in sight of the natural
beauties of the country; when he speaks apolo-
getically for marrying the vines to the trees, and
pitches the tent "on the western banks of the
Mayo for the pleasure of being lulled to sleep by
the cascade," — when a churl would have taken
the other side. But he does not affect that kind
of writing, though the material for it is there.
He is more inclined to such illustrations as this :
" In this fine land, however, we met with no
water, till at the end of three miles we luckily
came upon a crystal stream, which, like some
lovers of conversation, discovered every thing
committed to its faithless bosom." His naming
of places is by their fanciful characteristics, as
a " noisy impetuous stream" ho calls Matri-
mony Creek; one hill a Pimple and a larger
elevation a Wart. He is a vivid describer of a
wild beast or an Indian. His description of the
savage scalping makes the flesh creep: — " Those
that are killed of the enemy, or disabled, they
scalp, that is, they cut the skin all around the
head just below the hair, and then clapping their
feet to the poor mortal's shoulders, pull the scalp
off clean and carry it off in triumph." Of the
frequent Natural History stories we may take
that on Bruin, how he eats and is eaten.

Our Indian killed a bear, two years old, that was
feasting on these grapes. He was very fat, as they
generally are in that season of the year. In the
fall, the flesh of this animal has a high relish, differ-
ent from that of other creatures, though inclining
nearest to that of pork, or rather of wild boar. A
true woodsman prefers this sort of meat to that of
the fattest venison, not only for the haut r/out, but
also because the fat of it is well tasted, and never
rises in the stomach. Another proof of the goodness
of this meat is, that it is less apt to corrupt than any
other with which we are acquainted. As agreeable
as such rich diet was to the men, yet we who were
not accustomed to it, tasted it at first with some
sort of squeamishness, that animal being of the dog
kind ; though a little use soon reconciled us to this
American venison. And that its being of the dog
kind might give us the less disgust, we had the ex-
ample of that ancient and police people, the Chinese,
who reckon dog's flesh too good for any under the
quality of a mandarin. This beast is in truth a
very clean feeder, living, while the season lasts,
upon acorns, chestnuts and chinquapins, wild honey
and wild grapes. They are naturally not carnivo-
rous, unless hunger constrain them to it, after the
mast is all gone, and the product of the woods quite
exhausted. They- are not provident enough to lay
up any hoard, like the squirrels, nor can they, after
all, live very long upon licking their paws, as Sir
John Mandevil and some other travellers tell us,
but are forced in the winter months to quit the
mountains, and visit the inhabitants. Their errand
is then to surprise a poor hog at a pinch to keep

them from starving. And to show that they are
not flesh-eaters by trade, they devour their prey
very awkwardly. They do not kill it right out,
and feast upon its blood and entrails, like other
ravenous beasts, but having, after a fair pursuit,
seized it with their paws, they begin first upon the
rump, and so devour one ,collop after another, till
they come to the vitals, the poor animal crying all
the while, for several minutes together. However,
in so doing, Bruin acts a little imprudently, because
the dismal outcry of the hog alarms the neighbour-
hood, and it is odds but he pays the forfeit with his
life, before he can secure his retreat. But bears soon
grow weary of this unnatural diet, and about Janu-
ary, when there is nothing to be gotten in the
woods, they retire into some cave or hollow tree,
where they sleep away two or three months very
comfortably. But then they quit their holes in
March, when the fish begin to run up the rivers, on
which they are forced to keep Lent, till some fruit
or berry comes in season. But bears are fondest of
chestnuts, which grow plentifully towards the
mountains, upon very large trees, where the soil
happens to be rich. We were curious to know how
it happened that man}' of the outward branches of
those trees came to be broken off in that solitary
place, and were informed that the bears are so dis-
creet as not to trust their unwieldy bodies on the
smaller limbs of the tree, that would not bear their
weight ; but after venturing as far as is safe, which
they can judge to an inch, they bite off the end of
the branch, which falling down, they are content to
finish their repast upon the ground. In the same
cautious manner they secure the acorns that grow
on the weaker limbs of the oak. And it must be
allowed that, in these instances, a bear carries
instinct a great way, and acts more reasonably than
many of his betters, who indiscreetly venture upon
frail projects that will not bear them.

The practical suggestions for the investigation
of the country are acute and valuable — nor
should his simple expressions of thankfulness to
God be forgotten.

On the t\vent3'-seeond day of November he
closes the Diary with this satisfactory review of
the affair : —

Thus ended our second expedition, in which we
extended the line within the shadow of the Chariky
mountains, where we were obliged to set up our
pillars, like Hercules, and return home. We had
now, upon the whole, been out about sixteen weeks,
including going and returning, and had travelled at
least six hundred miles, and no small part of that
distance on foot. Below, towards the seaside, our
course lay through marshes, swamps, and great
waters ; and above, over steep hills, craggy rocks
and thickets, hardly penetrable. Notwithstanding
this variety of hardships, we may say, without
vanity, that we faithfully obeyed the king's orders,
and performed the business effectually, in which we
had the honour to be employed. Nor can we by
any means reproach ourselves of having put the
crown to any exorbitant expense in this difficult
affair, the whole charge, from beginning to end,
amounting to no more than one thousand pounds.
But let no one concerned in this painful expedition
complain of the scantiness of his pay, so long as his
majesty has been graciously pleased to add to our
reward the honour of his royal approbation, and to
declare, notwithstanding the desertion of the Caro-
lina commissioners, that the line by us run shall
hereafter stand as the true boundary betwixt the
governments of Virginia and North Carolina,

JAMES LOGAN.

77

There are two other sketches of Old Virginia
travel in the volume of the Westover Manuscripts ;
— one of a Progress to the Mines in the year
1732, and another in the following year of A
Journey to the Land of Eden, which possess the
same pleasant characteristics of adventure, per-
sonal humor, and local traits.

JAMES LOGAN.
James Logan, the founder of the Loganian
Library of Philadelphia, was a man of note in
his literary and scientific accomplishments and
writings. He was born in Ireland in 1674; was
a good scholar in the classics and mathematics in
his youth, was for a while a teacher, then engaged
in business, when he fell in with Penn, and came
over with him to America as his secretary in 1699.
He rose to the dignities of Chief Justice and
President of the Council. He continued the
administration of Penn to the satisfaction of the
colony. . As a testimony of the. respect in which
he was held by the Indians, the chief, Logan,
celebrated for his speech presented in Jefferson's
Notes on Virginia, was named after him.

James Logan.

In 1735, he communicated to Peter Collinson,
of London, an account of his experiments on
maize, with a view of investigating the sexual
doctrine, which was printed in the Philosophical
Transactions.* This was afterwards enlarged,
and printed in a Latin essay at Leyden, in 1739,
with the title Experimenta et Meletemata de
Plantarum Generatione, and republished in Lon-
don, with an English translation, by Dr. Fother-
gill, in 17-17. He also published at Amsterdam,
in 1740, Epistola ad Viruin Clarissimum Joan-
nem Albertum Fabricium, and at Leyden, in
1741, Demonstrationes de Iiadiorum Lucis in
Superficies spherical ah A.re incidentium a pri-
mario Foco Aberrationibus.

He passed his old age in retirement, at his
country seat named Stenton, near Germantown,
penning the translation of Cicero's De Senectute,
to which he added extensive familiar notes. The
first edition, a very neat specimen of printing,!
was published by his friend Franklin in 1744,
with this preface : — ■

* Miller's Retrospect, i. 134.

t M. T. Cicero's Cato Major, or his Discourse of Old Age:
with Explanatory Notes. Philadelphia: Printed and Sold by
B. Franklin. 1744. 4to. pp. 159.

THE PRINTER TO THE READER.

This version of Cicero's tract De Senectute was
made ten years since, by the honorable and learned
Mr. Logan, of this city; undertaken partly for his
own amusement (being then in his 60th year, which
is said to be nearly the age of the author when he
wrote it), but principally for the entertainment of a
neighbor, then in his grand climacteric ; and the
notes were drawn up solely on that neighbor's ac-
count, who was not so well acquainted as himself
with the Roman history and language ; some other
friends, however (among whom I had the honor to
be ranked), obtained copies of it in MS. And, as I
believed it to be in itself equal at least, if not far
preferable to any other translation of the same
piece extant in our language, besides the advantage
it has of so many valuable notes, which at the same
time they clear up the text, are highly instructive
and entertaining, I resolved to give it an impression,
being confident that the public would not unfavor-
ably receive it.

A certain freed-mau of Cicero's is reported to
have said of a medicinal well, discovered in his
time, wonderful for the virtue of its waters in restor-
ing sight to the aged, That it was a gift of the boun-
tiful Gods to men, to the end that all might now have
the pleasure of reading his Master's works. As that
well, if still in being, is at too great a distance for our
use, I have, gentle reader, as thou seest, printed this
piece of Cicero's in a large and fair character, that
those who begin to think on the subject of OLD
AGE (which seldom happens till their sight is some-
what impaired by its approach), may not, in read-
ing, by the pain small letters give to the eyes, feel
the pleasure of the mind in the least allayed.

I shall add to these few lines my hearty wish, that
this first translation of a classic in this Western
"World/* may be followed with many others, per-
formed with equal judgment and success; and be a
happy omen, that Philadelphia shall become the
seat of the American muses.

This was reprinted in London in 1750, at Glas-
gow in 1751, and in 1778, with Franklin's name
falsely inscribed on the title-page. Buckminster
reviewed this translation at length in the Monthly
Anthology,! with his accustomed scholarship, and
has given it the praise of being the best transla-
tion previous to that of Melmoth. The notes,
biographical and narrative, are entertaining, and
are taken from the original classics,' of which
Logan had a great store in his library. Buck-
minster suggests that " from their general com-
plexion, it would not be surprising if it should
prove that Dr. Franklin himself had occasionally
inserted some remarks. There is sometimes much
quaintness and always great freedom in the reflex-
ions, which, perhaps, betray more of Pagan than
of Christian philosophy ."J

Besides these writings, Logan made A Trans-
lation of Catd's Distichs into English verse, which
was printed at Philadelphia. He left behind him
in MS. part of an ethical treatise entitled, The
Ditties of Man as they may be deduced from
Nature; fragments of A Dissertation on the
Writings of Moses ; A Defence of Aristotle and
the Ancient Philosophers ; Essays on Languages
and the Antiquities of the British Isles; a trans-

* It had been preceded by Sandys, in his translation of Ovid,
ante. 1.
t V. 251. 810, 301. Memoi-s by Mrs. Lee, Sf-i
% Monthly Anthology, v. 305.

78

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

lation of Maurocordatus 7ttpt, xa0r;xov?u,i; and of
Philo Judaeus's Allegory of the Esseans.*

Like Franklin, Logan was a diligent correspon-
dent with the learned scientific men of Europe.
Among his correspondents, says Mr. Fisher, who
speaks from acquaintance with his papers, were,
"in this country, Cadwallader Colden, Governor
Burnet, and Colonel Hunter, the accomplished
friendof Swift;t and in Europe, Collinson, Fother-
gill, Mead, Sir Hans Sloane, Flamsteed, Jones the
mathematician, father of the celebrated Sir "Wil-
liam Jones, Fabricius, Gronovius, and Linnaeus;
the last of whom gave the name of Logan to a
class in botany."

Logan was a man of general reading in the an-
cient and modern languages, and had formed for
himself a valuable library. He was making pro-
vision, at the time of his death, which occurred
October 31, 1751, to establish this collection of
books as a permanent institution, and confer it
upon the city, and had erected a building for the
purpose. His heirs liberally carried out his inten-
tions, and founded the Loganian Library at Phi-
ladelphia. It consisted at first of more than two
thousand volumes which Logan had collected,
chiefly Greek and Latin classics, and books in the
modern languages of the European continent. A
large collection of books was afterwards be-
queathed by Doctor William Logan, a younger
brother of the founder, who was for some time
librarian. The library remained unopened for
some time after the Revolution, when the legis-
lature of Pennsylvania, in 1792, annexed it to the
library company established by Franklin and his
associates. It then contained nearly four thou-
sand volumes. The collection has been kept
separate. It received a handsome accession of five
thousand volumes, by the bequest of William
Mackenzie, a Philadelphian, in 1828.

John Davis, in his Travels in America, speaks
of his visit to the Loganian Library in 1798, in
terms which remind us of the corresponding com-
pliment to Roscoe and the Liverpool Athenaeum
in the Sketch Booh. " I contemplated with
reverence the portrait of James Logan, which
graces the room — Magnum et venerabile nornsn.
I could not repress my exclamations. As I am
only a stranger, said I, in this country, I affect no
enthusiasm on beholding the statues of her Gene-
rals and Statesmen. I have left a church filled
with them on the shore of Albion that have a
prior claim to such feeling. But I here behold
the portrait of a man whom I consider so great a

* A Sketch of Logan's Career, by J. Francis Fisher, in
Bparks's Life of Franklin, vii. 24 — 27. A volnme of Memoirs
of Logan, by W. Arcnistead, was published in London in 1S52.
12mo.~pp. 192.

t When Swift was in London in 1708 and '9, "there was,"
says Sir Walter Scott in his memoirs of that personage, "a
plan suggested, perhaps by Col. Hunter, governor of Virginia,
to send out Dr. Swift as bishop of that province, to exercise a
sort of metropolitan authority over the colonial clergy." Vol.
i. of works, 98. He was appointed Governor of Virginia in
1708, and was taken by the French on his voyage thither.
There is an amusing letter of Swift's to Hunter, in Paris, dated
January 12, 1708-9. Colonel Hunter arrived in America as
Governor of New York in 1710. In 1719 he returned to Eng-
land, and on the accession of George II. was continued Gover-
nor of New Tork and the Jerseys. He obtained, on account
of his health, the government of Jamaica, where he died in
1734 He was the author of a celebrated " Letter on Enthu-
siasm," ascribed to Swift ; and a farce, entitled Androboros, has
been attributed to him. Nichols's Lit Anecdotes of 18th Cen-
tury, vi. 89. 90. Beed's Biog. Dram. i. 250. Bancroft, iii. 64

benefactor to literature, that he is scarcely less
illustrious than its munificent patrons of Italy;
his soul has certainly been admitted to the com-
pany of the congenial spirits of a Cosmo and
Lorenzo of Medicis. The Greek and Roman
authors, forgotten on their native banks of the
Dyssus and Tiber, delight, by the kindness of a
Logan, the votaries to learning on those of the
Delaware."*

We take a single passage, characteristic of our
philosopher's pursuits, from his translation ot
Cicero : —

THE INTELLECTUAL DELIGHT OF AGE.

For hove solid, how sincere, think you, must that
pleasure be to the mind, when, after it has happily
worked through the ruffling tides of those uneasy
passions, lust, ambition, emulation, contention, and
every strong impetuous desire, it finds itself arrived
at its harbor, and like a veteran discharged from
the fatigues of war, got home, and retired within
itself into a stnte of tranquillity? But if it has the
farther advantage'of literature and science, and can
by that means feed on, or divert itself with some
useful or amusing study, no condition can be ima-
gined more happy than such calm enjoyments, in
the leisure and quiet of old age. How warm did we
see Gallus, your father's intimate friend, Scipio, in
pursuit of his astronomical studies to the last t
How often did the rising sun surprise him, fixed on
a calculation he began over night ? And how often
the evening, on what he had begun in the morning?
What a vast pleasure did it give him, when he
could foretell to us, when we should see the sun or
moon in an eclipse? And how many others have
we known in their old age delighting themselves in
other studies? which, though of less depth than
those of Gallus, yet must be allowed to be in them-
selves ingenious and commendable? How pleased
was Nfevius with his poem of the Punic war? And
how Plautus, with his Truculentus and Pseudolus ?
I remember even old Livius, who had his first
dramatic piece acted six years before I was born, in
the consulship of Cento and Tuditanus, and con-
tinued his compositions till I was grown up towards
the state of manhood. "What need I mention
Licinius Oassus's studies in the pontifical and civil
law? Or those of Publius Scipio, now lately made
supreme pontiff? And all these I have seen, not
only diverting themselves in old age, but eagerly
pursuing the several studies they affected. With
what unwearied diligence did we behold Marcus
Cethegus, whom Ennius justly enough called the
soul of persuasion, applying himself at a great age
to oratory, and the practice of pleading ? Upon all
which let me ask you, what gratifications of sense,
what voluptuous enjoyments in feasting, wine,
women, or play, and tne like, are to be compared
with those noble entertainments? Those pure and
serene pleasures of the mind, the rational fruits of
knowledge and learning, that grafted on a good
natural disposition, cultivated by a liberal educa-
tion, and trained up in prudence and virtue, are so
far from being palled in old age, that they rather
continually improve, and grow ' on the possessor.
Excellent, therefore, was that expression of Solon,
which I mentioned before, when he said, that daily
learning something, he grew old: for the pleasures
arising from such a course, namely, those of the
mind, must be allowed incomparaoly to exceed all
others.

* Travels, 40.

ROGER WOLCOTT.

79

EOGEE WOLCOTT.
Roger Woloott was born at "Windsor, Conn.,
Jan. 4, 1679. Owing to the unsettled state of the
country, and the constant incursions of Indians,
it was impossible to maintain a school or clergy-
man at that time in the little town, and Wolcott
was consequently deprived of the advantages of
early education. At the age of twelve he was
apprenticed to a mechanic. On becoming his
own master, at twenty-one, he was enabled to

Co-C^^

establish himself on the banks of the Connecti-
cut, where, by diligence and frugality, he suc-
ceeded in acquiring a competence. In 1711 he
was appointed a commissary of the forces of the
colony in the attack on Canada, and he bore the
commission of major-general at the capture of
Louisbourg, in 1745. He was also prominent in
the civil service of the colony, and after passing
through various judicial and political grades of
office, was chosen governor from 1751 to 1754.
He died May 17, 1767, at the advanced age of 88.
He wrote A Brief Account of the Agency of the
Honorable John Winthrop, Esq., in the Court of
King Charles the Second, Anno Dom. 1662, when,
he obtained a Charter for the Colony of Connec-
ticut, a narrative and descriptive poem of 1500
lines, which has been printed in the Collections of
the Massachusetts Historical Society, and a small
volume of verse, in 1725, entitled, Poetical Medi-
tations, being the improvement of some Vacant
Hours* It is prefaced by a rambling dissertation,
chiefly on titles to land, by the Eeverend Mr.
Bulkley, of Colchester, in which he expresses the
opinion, that "the darling principle of man}', viz.
that native rightt is the only valuable title to any
lands in the country, is absurd and foolish, and
may with reason be look't upon as one of our
vulgar errors." This dissertation fills fifty-sis
pages, the poems which it preludes occupying but
seventy-eight, and these are flanked at the close
by the advertisement of Joseph Dewey, clothier,
who, " having been something at charge in pro-
moting the publishing the foregoing meditations,"
takes the liberty to advertise his country people
touching certain rules which ought to be observed
in the making and working of cloth.

"Wolcott's verses are rude, but possess some
force. The lines we give are one of the briefest
of his "Meditations:"

Proverbs xviii. 14.

A WOUNDED SPIEIT, WHO CAK BEAE?

Money answers everything
But a Guilty Conscience sting,
"Whose immortal torments are
Quite insupportable to bear.
Nor the silver of Peru,
Nor the wealth the East do shew,

* Poetical Meditations, being tbe improvement of some
Vacant Hours, by Roger Wolcott. Esq., with a preface by the
Eeverend Mr. Bulkley, of Colchester. New London: printed
and sold by T. Green,' 1725.

t That of the aborigines.

Nor the softest bed of down,

Nor the jewels of a crown,

Can give unto the mind a power

To bear its twinges half an hour.

When God's iron justice onee

Seizeth on the conscience,

And in fearful, ample wise,

Lays before the sinner's eyes,

His life's horrible transgressions,

In their dreadful aggravations ;

And then for his greater aw,

In most ample forms doth draw

All the curses of his law ;

Then the worm begins to knaw,

And altho' it every hour

Doth the very soul devour,

Yet it nothing doth suffice ;

Oh ! this worm that never dies —

Oh ! the multitude of thought

Into which the sinner's brought ;

Looking up, he sees God's power,

Through his angry face doth lour;

And hath for his ruin join'd

Ten thousand chariots in the wind,

All prepar'd to glorify

The strong arm of the Most High,

By inflicting punishments

Equal to his vengeance.

Looking down, he amply seeth

Hell rowling in her flames beneath;

Enlarg'd to take his soul into

Its deep caverns full of wo :

Now the sinner's apprehension

Stretcheth large as hell's dimensions,

And doth comprehensively

Fathom out eternity.

The most extreme and vexing sense

Fasten eth on the conscience.

Fill'd with deepest agony,

He maketh this soliloquy :

View those torments most extreme,

See this torrid liquid stream,

In the which my soul must fry

Ever, and yet never dy.

When a thousand years are gone,

There's ten thousand coming on;

And when these are overworn,

There's a million to be born,

Yet they are not comprehended,

For they never shall be ended.

Now despair by representing
Eternity fill'd with tormenting,
By anticipation brings
All eternal sufferings
Every moment up at onee
Into actual sufferance.
Thus those pains that are to come,
Ten thousand ages farther down,
Every moment must be born
Whilst eternity is worn.
Every moment that doth come,
Snch torments brings ; as if the sum
Of all God's anger now were pressing,
For all in which I liv'd transgressing.
Yet the next succeeding hour,
Holdeth forth his equal power ;
And, succeeding with it, brings
Up the sum of sufferings.
Yet they are not comprehended,
For they never shall be ended.

For God Himself. He is but one,
Without least variation ;
Just what He was, is, is to come.
Always entirely the same.

so

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Possessing His Eternity
Without succession instantly,
With whom the like proportion bears,
One day as doth a thousand years.
He makes the prison and the chain,
He is the author of my pain.
'Twas unto Him I made offence,
'Tis He that takes the recompence,
'Tis His design, my misery
Himself alone shall glorify ;
Therefore must some proportion bear
With Him whose glory they declare.
And so they shall, being day and night
Unchangeable and infinite.

These very meditations are

Quite unsupportable to bear:

The fire within my conscience

Is grown so fervent and intense

I cannot long its force endure,

But rather shall my end procure ;

Griesly death's pale image lies

On my ghastly, piercing eyes.

My hands, made fo^ my life's defence,

Are ready to do violence

Unto my life: And send me hence,

Unto that awful residence.

There to be fill'd with that despair,

Of which the incipations are,

A. wounded spirit none can bear.

But, oh ! my soul, think once again.
That there is for this burning pain,
One only medicine Sovereign.
Christ's blood will fetch out all this fare
If that God's Spirit be the applyer.
Oh ! then my soul, when grief abounds,
Shroud thyself within these wounds;
■And that thou there may'st be secure,
Be purified as he is pure.

And oh ! my God, let me behold Thy Son,

Impurpled in his crucifixion,

With such an eye of faith that may from

thence,
Derive from Him a gracious influence,
To cure my sin and wounded conscience.
There, there alone, is healing to be had:
Oh! let me have that Balm of Gilead.

CADWALLADEE COLDEN.
Cadwallader Colden, who heads with honor
the ranks of the authors of the State of New York,
unless we except the previous compositions in the
Dutch language, the political tract of Van der
Donck, the satire of the Breeden Raedt, and an
account of the Maquaas Indians, in Latin, by Me-
gapolensis,* was the son of the Rev. Alexander

* Adrian Van der Donck, a graduate of the University of
Lej'den, was appointed by the pafcroon of Rensselaerwick sheriff
of his colony, and came to New Netherlands in 1642. In 1648
we find a grant of land made to him as YonkerVan der Donck,
at Tonkevs on the Hudson, Tonker being the usual title of
gentleman. His name appears as one of the eleven signers of
a tract of fifty pages quarto, published at the Hague'in 1650,
entitled, Vertoqyh van Nimiio Nedr-rlandt ; Representation
from New Netherland, concerning the situation, fruitfulness,
and poor condition of the same. It is addressed to the West
India Company as a petition for changes in the government of
Kieft and Stuyvesant. It has been translated by Mr. Henry
C. Murphy for the New York Historical Society, aud pub-
lished by them and also by Mr. James Lenox of "this city, in
a quarto edition for private circulation. In consequence
of its attacks on the government Van der Donck was denied
access to the colonial records during the preparation of his
Description of New Netherlands, a work the translation of
which occupies lu6 pages of the New York Historical Society's

Colden, of Dnnse, Scotland, where he was born
February 17, 1688. He was prepared, by the pri-
vate instructions of his father, for the University
of Edinburgh, where he was graduated in 1705.
He devoted the three following years to medical
and mathematical studies, when he emigrated to
Pennsylvania and practised physic with great
success in Philadelphia until 1715. At that time
he visited London, and there became acquainted
with Halley, the astronomer, who was so well
pleased with a paper on Animal Secretions,
written by Colden some years before, that he read
it before the Royal Society, by whom the pro-
duction was received with equal favor. In 1716
he returned to America, having in the mean-
time married in Scotland a young lady of the
name of Christie.

He settled in New York in 1718, where he
soon abandoned his profession for the service of
the State, filling in succession the offices of sur-
veyor-general of the province, master in chancery,
member of the council, and lieutenant-governor.
In 1756 he removed with his family to a tract of
land on the Hudson, near Newburgh, which he
named Coldenham. He was appointed lieutenant-
governor of the province in 1760, and retained
the office until his death, September 21, 1776,
having been several times called upon to act as
governor in consequence of the death or retire-
ment of various occupants of the office.

Collections, 1841. It contains an account of the rural products,
animals, and inhabitants of the Colony. The date of the first
edition is unknown. The second appeared at Amsterdam in
1656, bv Evert Nieuwenhof, who introduces the work with a
poetical preface. The Breeden-Ilaedt (Broad Advice to the
United Netherland Provinces, by J. A., G. W. C, Antwerp,
1649), is a coarse but to some extent amusing satire, growing
out of the disaffection to the Colonial Government. The Rev.
Johannes Megapolensis, the ''Dominie" of the colony ofRens-
selaerwick, where he officiated from his arrival in New Nether-
lands August, 1642, wrote in 1644, and published in 1651, a
tract on the Maquaas Indians, — a translation of which was pub-
lished in Hazard's Historical Collections (Phila. 1792), vol. i.
p. 517, where it occupies eight quarto pages. Megapolensis's
activity as a missionary among the Indians furnished
him with excellent opportunities for observing their pecu-
liarities. In 1649 he became pastor of the Church of New
Amsterdam. His name appears frequently in the city annals
down to the time of the surrender to the English.

THOMAS PRINCE.

81

Colden was the author of the History of the
Five Indian Nations* The object of this work
was to call attention to the importance of Indian
affairs in reference to commerce. It contains a
brief history of the intercourse between the
aborigines and the Europeans from the settlement
of the country to the period of its publication in
1727. It was reprinted at London in 1747, with
the addition of a number of treaties and other
documents, and the remarkable transfer by the
London publisher of the dedication from Governor
Burnet to General Oglethorpe.t a liberty at which
Colden was justly indignant. A third edition, in
two neat 12mo. volumes, appeared at London in
1755 He also wrote a philosophical treatise,
published in 1751, entitled, The Principles of
Action in Matter. He printed in 1742, a tract
on a fever which had recently ravaged the city
of New York, in which he showed how greatly
the deadly effects of disease were enhanced by
filth, stagnation, and foul air, pointing out those
portions of the city which most needed purifica-
tion. The corporation voted him their thanks,
and carried out many of his sanitary suggestions
with good effect. Colden took a great interest
in the study of botany, and was the first to intro-
duce the Linnaean system in America, a few
months after its publication in Europe. His
acquaintance with Kalm, the Swedish traveller, a
pupil of the great naturalist, may have aided him
in the prosecution of his inquiries. His essay
On the Virtues of the Great Water Dock led to
a correspondence with Linnaeus, who included an
account of between three and four hundred
American plants, furnished by Colden, and about
two hundred of which were described for the
first time in the Acta Upsala, and afterwards
bestowed the name of Coldenia on a plant of the
tetrandrous class, in honor of his American
disciple. Colden maintained an active corres-
pondence from the year 1710 to the close of
his life, with the leading scientific men of
Europe and America. Franklin was among the
most constant as well as celebrated of these
correspondents, and it was to this friend that
Colden communicated one of his most valu-
able inventions, that of the art of stereotyp-
ing. The letter is dated October, 1743. It is
probable that Franklin may have conversed on
the subject in France, and that thus the hint of
the process was communicated to the German,
Herhan, who in the commencement of the pre-
sent century carried it into successful practice
in Paris, and obtained the credit of being its
originator.

* The History of the Five Indian Nations of Canada, which
are dependent on the Province of New York in America, and
are the Barrier between the English and the French in that
part of the world, with particular accounts of their religion,
manners, easterns, laws, and forms of government ; their
several battles and treaties with the European nations ; their
wars with other iDdians; and a true account of the present
6tate of our trade with them. In which are shewn the great
Advantage of their Trade and Alliance to the British nation,
and the Intrigues and attempts of the French to encage them
from us; a subject nearly concerning all our American Planta-
tions, and highly meriting the attention of the British nation
at this juncture. To which are added. Accounts of the several
other Nations of Indians in North America, their numbers,
strength, &c., and the Treaties which have been lately made
with them. 3rd edit., London, 1755.

t Rich, Bibl. Amer. The additions seem also to have been
without the author's sanction. " I send you herewith,1' Frank-
lin writes to Colden from Philadelphia, Oct. 1, 1747, "The
VOL. I. — 6

In the correspondence of Jefferson there is a
letter, in which, writing to Francis Hopkinson, ha
says, " Many years ago Cadwallader Colden wrote
a very small pamphlet on the subjects of attrac-
tion and impulsion, a copy of which he sent to
Monsieur de Buffon. He was so charmed with
it, that he put it into the hands of a friend to
translate it, who lost it. It has ever since
weighed on his mind, and he has made repeated
trials to have it found in England."*

The unpublished Colden Papers,t embracing a
large Correspondence and a number of treatises
and notes on historical and philosophical topics,
now form part of the valuable manuscript Collec-
tions of the New York Historical Society. The
value of these papers as records of the ante-
revolutionary period has been tested by Mr. Ban-
croft, who acknowledges his indebtedness to this
source in the preface to the sixth volume of his
History.

THOMAS PRINCE.

Thomas Peince, a grandson of John Prince, of
Hull, who emigrated to America in 1633, was

'77H O m.Co

r~ t n.c « .

born in Sandwich, Massachusetts, May 15, 1687.
He graduated at Harvard in 1707, and in 1709
visited Europe, and preached for several j'ears at
Comb3 in Suffolk. He was urged to remain
longer, but returned to Boston in July, 1717, and
was ordained pastor of the Old South Church, as
colleague of his class-mate, Dr. Sewall, October 1,
1718, where he remained until his death, October
22, 1758.

He commenced in 1703, and continued during
his life, to collect documents relating to the
history of New England. He left the valuable
collection of manuscripts thus formed, to the care
of the Old South Church. They were deposited
in an apartment in the tower, which also con-
tained a valuable library of the writings of the
early New England Divines, formed by Mr.
Prince, where they remained until the manuscripts
were destroyed by the British, during their oc-
cupation of the city in the revolutionary war.
The books were preserved, and are now deposited
in the library of the Massachusetts Historical
Society.

Mr. Prince was the author of a Chronological
History of New England, in the form of annals,
the first volume of which was published in a
duodecimo form in 1736, and two numbers of
the second in 1755. He unfortunately com-
menced with an epitome of history from the
creation, on which he bestowed much time, which
might have been better employed on his specific
object, that of presenting a brief narrative of
occurrences in New England, from 1602 to 1730.
His work unfortunately does not come down later
than the year 1633.

History of the Five Nations. You will perceive that Osborne,
to puff up the book, has inserted the charters, Ac., of this
province, all under the title of ' The History of the Five
Nations.1 " — Sparks's Franklin, vii. IS.

* Jefferson's Works, i. 392.

+ Biographical Sketches of Colden, bv J. W. Francis. — Am.
Med. & Philos. Reg., Jan. 1811. Eedfleld's Family Magazine,
183S, v. 834 O'Callaghan's Doc. Hist N. Y., 4to. ill. 495.

82

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

He also prepared, in 1727, an account of the
English Ministers at Martha's Vineyard, which
was annexed to Mayhew's Indian Converts, and
published a large number of funeral and other
sermons. He was pronounced by Dr. Ohauncy
the most learned scholar, with the exception of
Cotton Mather, in New England, and maintained
a high reputation as a preacher, and as a devout
and amiable man. Six of his manuscript sermons
were published after bis death, by Dr. John
Erskine, of Edinburgh.

WILLIAM AND MART COLLEGE.

At an early period in the settlement of Virginia
attempts were made to establish an institution of
learning. In 1619, the treasurer of the Virginia
company, Sir Edmund Sandys, received from an
unknown hand five hundred pounds, to be ap-
plied by the company to the education of a cer-
tain number of Indian youths in the English
language and in the Christian religion. Other
sums of money were also procured, and there was
a prospect of being. able to raise four or five
thousand pounds for the endowment of a col-
lege. The king favored the design, and recom-
mended to the bishops to have collections made
in their dioceses, and some fifteen hundred pounds
were gathered on this recommendation. The col-
lege was designed for the instruction of English
as well as Indian youths. The Company appro-
priated ten thousand acres of land to this purpose
at Henrico, on the James river, a little below the
present site of Richmond. The plan of the col-
lege was to place tenants at halves on these
lands, and to derive its income from the profits.
One hundred tenants was the number fixed upon,
and they calculated the profits of each at five
pounds. George Thorpe was sent out with fifty
tenants, to act as deputy for the management of
the college property ; and the Rev. Mr. Copeland,
a man every way qualified for the office, consented
to be president of the college as soon as it shoidd
be organized. Mr. Thorpe went out in 1621, but
had hardly commenced operations when, with
nearly all his tenants, he was slain by the Indians
in the groat Massacre of 1622, and the project of
a college was abandoned.*

The early American colleges grew out of the reli-
gious feeling, of the country, and the necessity of
a provision for a body of educated clergy. We
have seen this at Harvard, and it was the preva-
lent motive for a long time at Yale. In the act
of the Assembly of Virginia, in 1660, previous
to the foundation of William and Mary, express
allusion is made to the supply of the ministry and
promotion of piety, and the lack of able and faith-
ful clergy. The attempt at this time to found a
college failed from the royal governor's discou-
ragement to the enterprise. It was the state
policy. In his Answers to Questions put by the
Lords of Plantations in 1671, Sir William Berkeley
" thanks God that there are no free schools nor
printing" in the colony, and hopes " there will not
be these hundred years.''t

* Stith'sHist. ofVa. 162.

t Answers of Sir William Berkeley to the inquiries of the
Lords of the Committee of Colonies. From Virg. Pap. 75 B.
p. 4. Printed in Chalmers's Political Annals, p. 828, para-
"123:—

In 1692, a charter was obtained from the
Government in England, through the agency of
the Rev. Jame3 Blair, and the assistance of
Nicholson, the lieut.-governor of the colony.*
The new institution took its name from the royal
grantore, who appropriated funds, land, and a
revenue duty on tobacco for its support. Build-
ings were erected, and Blair became its president.
The first building erected at Williamsburgh was
burnt in 1705. By the bounty of Queen Anne,
and the assistance of the House of Burgesses, and
the exertions of Governor Spotswood, it was not
long after restored. In the square in front of
this building still stands, in a mutilated condition,
though with evidence of its old elegance, a statue
of Lord Botetourt, ordered by the colony, in
1771, in gratitude for his administration of the
government.

William and Mary College.

In 1718, a thousand pounds were granted to
the college for the support (as the grant runs) of
as many ingenious scholars as they should see fit.
A part of this was laid out for the Nottoway
estate, out of the income of which several
scholars were supported who were designated
students on the Nottoway foundation. Thi3
estate was sold in 1777. The remainder of the
grant supported the Assembly scholarship.

Robert Boyle, the philosopher, who died in
1691, left his whole estate, after his debts and
legacies should be disposed of by his executors,
for such pious uses as in their discretion they
should think fit, but recommended that it should
be expended for the advancement of the Christian
religion. The executors, who were the Earl of
Burlington, Sir Henry Ashurst, and John Marr,
laid out £5,400 for the purchase of the property
known as the Brafferton estate, the yearly rent
of which was to be applied towards "the pro-
pagating the Gospel among infidels." Of this
income, £90 was appropriated to New England —

"23. The same course is taken here, for instructing the
people, as there is in England: Out of towns every man in-
structs his own children according to his own ability. We
have forty-eight parishes, and our ministers are well paid, and
by my consent should be better, if they would pray oftener,
and preach less. But as of all other commodities, so of this,
the worst are sent us, and we have few that we can boast of,
since the persecution in Cromwell's tyranny drove divers
worthy men hither. Yet, I thank God, there are no freo
schools nor printing; and 1 hope we shall not have these hun-
dred years. For learning has brought disobedience, and
heresy, and sects, into the world, and printing has divulged
them and libels against the best government; God keep us
from both !

"William Beekelet.

" VmGlNiA, 20 June, 1671."

* Beverley, Hist Ta, 88.

WILLIAM AND MARY COLLEGE.

83

one half for the support of two missionaries
among the Indians, and the other to be given "to
the President and Fellows of Harvard College for
the salaries of two ministers to teach the said
natives, in or near the said college, the Christian
religion." The remainder of the income of the
estate was given to the College of William and
Mary, -on condition of supporting one Indian
scholar for every fourteen pounds received. A
house was built for this purpose on the grounds
atWilliamsburgh, as a school for Indian boys and
their master, which still bears upon it the date
of 1723. It was called, after the estate, Braffer-
ton — the title of the incumbent was Master of the
Indian School. The experience with the Indians
of the south does not appear to have varied
much from that of Eliot and his friends in the
north. Indians, however, were taught in it as
late as 1774. Hugh Jones, the chaplain of the
Assembly, who was also mathematical professor
at the college, in his volume entitled, " The Pre-
sent State of Virginia," says of this attempt —
"The young Indians, procured from the tribu-
tary or foreign nations with much difficulty, were
formerly boarded and lodged in the town, where
abundance of them used to die, either through
sickness, change of provision and way of life ;
or, as some will have it, often for want of pro-
per necessaries and due care taken with them.
Those of them that have escaped well, and been
taught to read and write, have, for the most part,
returned to their home, some with and some
without baptism, where they follow their own
savage customs and heathenish rites. A few of
them have lived as servants among the Eng-
lish, or loitered and idled away their time in
laziness and mischief. But 'tis a great pity that
more care is not taken about them after they
are dismissed from school. They have admirable
capacities when their humors and tempers are
perfectly understood."*

Colonel William Byrd, in 1728, laments the
" bad success Mr. Bojde's charity has hitherto had
towards converting any of these poor heathens to
Christianity. Many children of our neighboring
Indians have been brought up in the college of
William and Mary. They have been taught to
read and write, and have been carefully instructed
in the principles of the Christian religion till they
came to be men. Yet, after they returned home,
instead of civilizing and converting the rest,
they have immediately relapsed into infidelity
and barbarism themselves." Of the efforts of
Colonel Spotswood in this behalf, Byrd preserves
the following epigram : —

* P. 92. The whole title of this work sufficiently describes
its contents: — The Present State of Virginia: giving a particu-
lar and short account of the Indian, English, and Negro inha-
bitants of that colony. Shewing their Religion, Manners,
Government, Trade, Way of Living, &c, with a description of
the Country, from whence is inferred a short View of Mary-
land and North Carolina. To which are added, Schemes and
Propositions for the better Promotion of Learning, Religion,
Inventions, Manufactures and Trade in Virginia, and the other
Plantations. For the Information of the Curious and for tho
Service of such as are Engaged in the Propagation of the Gos-
pel and Advancement of Learning, and for the Use of all Per-
sons concerned in the Virginia Trade and Plantation. Gen. ix.
27, God shall enlarge Japheth, and he shall dwell in the tents
of Shem, and Canaan shall be his Servant. By Hugh Jones,
A.M., Chaplain to the Honourable Assembly, and lately Minis-
ter of James-Town, &c., in Virginia. London: Printed for J.
Clarke, at the Bible, under the Royal Exchange, hdcoxxiv.
8vo. pp. 152.

Long has the furious priest assayed in vain,
With sword and figgot, infidels to gain,
But now the milder soldier wisely tries
By gentler methods to unveil their eyes.
Wonders apart, he knew 'twere vain t'engage
The fix'd preventions of misguided age.
With fairer hopes he forms the Indian youth
To early manners, probity and truth.
The lion's whelp thus, on the Lybian shore,
Is tamed and gentled by the artful Moor,
Not the grim sire, inured to blood before.*

The old story of the fading race, and pretty
much the same whether related by South Ameri-
can Jesuits, Virginia cavaliers, or New England
zealots. Philip Freneau has pointed the moral in
his poem of the Indian Student, who,

laid his Virgil by
To wander with his dearer bow.

Though little good may have been effected for the
Indians, the scheme may have brought with it
incidental benefit. The instruction of the Indian
was the romance of educational effort, and acted
in enlisting benefactors much as favorite but im-
practicable foreign missions have done at a later
day. It was a pian of a kindred character with
this in Virginia which first engaged the benevo-
lent and philosophic Berkeley in his eminent
services to the American colleges. One of these
institutions, Dartmouth, grew out of such a foun-
dation.

The first organization of the college was under
a body of Visitors, a President, and six Profes-
sors. The Visitors had power to make laws for
the government of the college, to appoint the
professors and president, and fix the amount of
their salaries. The Corporation was entitled The
President and Master, or Professors of William and
"Mary College. There were two Divinity Professor-
ships— one of Greek and Latin, one of Mathema-
tics, one of Moral Philosophy, and Boyle's Indian
professorship was a sixth. The college had a
representative in the General Assembly. In its
early history it was a subject of complaint that it
was too much a school for children, the rudiments
of Latin and Greek being taught there. The old
colonial administration lent its picturesque dignity
to the college. As a quit-rent for the land
granted by the Crown, two copies of Latin verses
were every year presented to the Royal Governor.
This was done sometimes with great ceremony, the
students and professors marching in procession to
the palace, and formally delivering the lines. At
tho Revolution, tho endowments of the college un-
derwent great changes. The war put an end to the
colonial revenue' taxes for the college support ; the
Brafferton fund in England disappeared ; and
after the peace the loss of the old Church and
State feeling was shown in an act of the visitors
abolishing the two Divinity Professorships, and
substituting others for them. On tho breaking
out of the Revolution, one half of the students,
among whom was James Monroe, entered tho
army.

The French troops occupied the College build-
ings, or a part of them, after the surrender of
Lord Cornwallis, and while they had possession,
the president's house was burnt. The French

* Westover Manuscripts, 86-7.

84

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

government promptly paid for rebuilding it. The
college building was occupied as a hospital at the
same time, and much damaged and broken up,
but the United States government has never made
an}' remuneration.

The following is a complete list of the college
Presidents, in the order of their succession, with
the periods of their incumbency : — The Rev.
James Blair, from the foundation to his death, in
1743 ; the Rev. William Dawson till 1752 ; Wil-
liam Stith till 1755 ; Thomas Dawson till 1761 ;
William Yates till 1764; James Horrocks till
1771 ; John Camm till 1777; James Madison, till
his death, in 1812; John Bracken till 1814; John
Augustine Smith till 1826; the Rev. W. H. Wil-
mer, till his death, in 1827; the Rev. Adam
Empie till 1836; Thomas R. Dew, till his death,
in 1846; Robert Saunders till 1848; Benjamin
S. Ewell till 1849; Bishop John Johns till 1854;
and Benjamin S. Ewell, the present occupant.

Dr. Blair was a Scotchman by birth, was edu-
cated in Scotland, and took orders in the Scottish
Episcopal Church. He went to England towards
the close of the reign of Charles II., and was per-
suaded by the Bishop of London to emigrate to
Virginia about the year 1685, and was probably
employed as a missionary, as there is no record
of his having been connected with any parish till
as late as 1711, when he was made Rector of
Bristow parish in Williamsburgh.

In 1689, the Bishop of London appointed him
his Commissary in the colonies of Virginia and
Maryland, which office he continued to hold till
Ms death. In virtue of this office, he had a seat
in the Council of State, and received £100 per
annum as Councillor. Through his exertions, a
subscription of £2,500 was raised towards the
endowment of a college, and he was sent to Eng-
land by the GenerarAssembly in 1692, for the
purpose of soliciting a charter. The charter was
obtained, and he appointed President in the
charter itself. This office he held till the day of
his death, a period of fifty years. He died in
March, 1743, in the eighty-eighth year of his age.
He appears to have been a man of great energy

and perseverance. He had to contend with great
discouragements and difficulties during the wholo
of his course. He was opposed and thwarted in
his plans for the establishing and improvement
of the college by the royal governors, by the
council, and even by the clergy at times; but he
persevered through all discouragements. He
must also have been a man of great purity of
character, for in all the contests in which he was
engaged, his adversaries never reproached him
with any immorality. At one time a large ma-
jority of the clergy were arrayed against him.
They accused him of exercising his office in a
stern and haughty manner, but with nothing
further. The clergy were many of them men of
very questionable character — the very refuse of
the Established Church in England; and these
were not a little offended at the strictness of the
discipline he attempted to enforce.

Dr. Blair has left behind him three volumes of
Sermons, from texts selected from the Sermon on
the Mount. They are written in a lucid and
simple style, and are remarkable for their good
sense and practical character. Waterland edited
the Third Edition of these Sermons, printed in
London in 1741, and wrote a preface containing
a brief sketch of the author's life. He highly
commends the Sermons as both sound in doctrine
and felicitous in style. Such a commendation
from such an author is no small praise. There
is still extant another small work, which Dr.
Blair took part in compiling. It is entitled The
State of his Ifajesty's Colony in Virginia; by
Hartvvell, Blair, and Chilton: and gives an ac-
count of the soil, productions, religion, and laws
of the colony, with a particular account of the
condition of AVilliam and Mary College. It was
printed in 1727, but it bears strong internal
marks of having been drawn up about the vear
1699.

Dr. Blair was more than sixty years a clergy-
man, fifty-eight of which he spent in Virginia.
He was 'Commissary fifty-four years, and Presi-
dent of the college fifty years. His remains were
deposited in the churchyard at Jamestown, and
an inscription, alluding to his life and services, was
engraved on his tombstone. But the stone has
been broken, and the inscription is so damaged
that it cannot now be deciphered. He left
the whole of his library, consisting mostly of
works on divinity, to the college. These books
are still in the college library, and many of them
contain notes in his handwriting.

Of the successor of Dr. Blair but little is
known, further than that he was educated at
Oxford, and was accounted an able scholar.
Stith is only known from the History of Virginia,
which he began, but carried down no further
than to 1624. Thomas Dawson, the fourth Pre-
sident, was also the Commissary of the Bishop
of London. Yates was a clergyman in the
colony when he was called to the Presidency of
the college.

James Horrocks, if we may judge from certain
papers of his, drawn up in consequence of a dis-
pute between the Visitors and the Faculty, in
relation to the extent of their powers respectively,
was an able and vigorous writer.

Several clergymen of the province succeeded
Stith in the Presidency. Lord Botetourt, who

iTALE COLLEGE.

85

arrived as the royal governor in 1768, took much
interest in its affairs. He instituted prizes of gold
medals for the best Latin oration, and for superior-
ity in the mathematics, and attended the morning
and evening prayers.*

James Madison, in 1788 chosen Bishop of the
Episcopal Church in Virginia, was a Virginian
by birth, and a graduate of the college. He
was for several years Professor of Mathematics,
both before and after his occupation of the Pre-
sidency. He also gave lectures in natural, moral,
and political philosophy — first introducing the
study of political economy, which has since been
pursued in the college with much distinction.
Bishop Madison was a man of amiable character.
His lectures on Natural Philosophy were much
thought of. They have not been published. He
was a contributor to the Philosophical Trans-
actions. His delivery as a preacher was per-
fectly toned.

During the Presidency of Dr. John Augustine
Smith, an effort was made to remove the college
to Richmond. The discipline had become some-
what relaxed, and President Smith met with con-
siderable opposition in his measures to restore it.
Previously to his holding the office, Dr. Smith
had been a lecturer on anatomy in New York, in
the College of Physicians and Surgeons. In 1809,
he edited the New York Medical and Physical
Journal, in which he published a reply to the
work of Dr. Smith, of Princeton, on the Unity
of the Race. Since his retirement from the Pre-
sidency, he lias become a resident of New York,
where he has occasionally delivered metaphysical
and scientific lectures, which are included in his
volume, Prelections on some of the more important
s-ubjects connected with Moral and Physical
Science.

Thomas R. Dew, at the age of twenty-three
had occupied the chair of moral science in the
college, of which he was a graduate. He pub-
lished a volume on Slavery, in which he held the
views urged by Calhoun, and a volume of Lec-
tures on Ancient and Modern History. He died
suddenly at Paris, of an affection of the lungs, on
a second visit to Europe, in the summer of 1816.
Of the Professors, none was more distinguished
than William Small, who was Mr. Jefferson's
tutor in mathematics. He was not only an
eminent mathematician, but, as Mr. Jefferson
informs us, was possessed of a philosophic mind,
and of very extensive and accurate information
on a great variety of subjects. He went to Eng-
land some time before the Revolution, and never
returned, but became a distinguished mathemati-
cian in England.

The Professorship of Moral and Intellectual
Philosophy, Belles Lsttres, and Rhetoric, is at
present, in 1855, held by the Rev. Dr. Silas
Totten, formerly President of Washington College,
at Hartford. He has in preparation an Historical
Account of the College, an undertaking rendered
difficult by meagre and imperfect records ; but
his work will be an important one, from the con-
sideration of the men and times which will pass
under his view, and from the circumstance, that
what may be known of the institution has never

* Miller's Retrospect, ii. 873.

hitherto been properly narrated. It is to his kind
assistance, that we are indebted for much of the
information here presented.

Since the Law Department was added to the
college, there have been some eminent professors
; of law. Wythe, Nelson, St. George, and Beverly
Tucker are among these.

Four Presidents of the United States, viz. Jef-
ferson, Madison, Monroe, and Tyler, were edu-
cated in the college. Chief Justice Marshall and
General Scott were also students of William and
Mary.

The secret literary society of the Phi Beta
Kappa originated at William and Mary, about
1775. The affiliated society of Harvard derived
its charter from that source. The original, how-
ever, was interrupted by the Revolutionary war.

When the college broke up in 1781, the records
of the society were sealed up and placed in the
hands of the college steward. Subsequently they
came into the possession of the Historical Society
of Virginia. On examination, it was found that
one of the old members, William Short, of Phila-
delphia, still survived in 1850. It was also dis-
covered that he was President of the Society
when it had been interrupted. Measures were
immediately taken to revive it in the college,
with Mr. Short as the connecting link with the
original society, and it is now in active operation,
with the old records restored to the college.

TALE COLLEGE.

Tnis institution dates its formal beginning from the
year 1700. As early as 1647, the people of New
Haven, at the instance of the Rev. John Daven-
port, who was eminent for his zeal in the cause
of education, undertook the enterprise of establish-
ing a college in that colony, but postponed it in
deference to the interests of Cambridge. In 1700
a meeting of ministers of Connecticut, represent-
ing, by general understanding, the churches and
people of the colony, took place at New Haven,
for the purpose of forming a college association.
! This was arranged to consist of eleven clergymen,
living within the colony. The original parties*
shortly met again at Branford, when each mem-
ber brought a number of books and laid them
upon a table, with the declaration, " I give these
books for the founding a college in this colony."
About forty folios were thus deposited. An
application for a charter was made and granted
by the General Court in 1701. It had been at
first proposed that the objects of the college
should be especially theological. This pian, how-
ever, was modified to the design of " instructing
youth in the arts and sciences, who may be
fitted for public employments both in Church and
Civil State," though the religious instruction for
a long while practically predominated. The
creed of the Saybrook platform was adopted in
1708 by the agency of the trustees, and made
binding upon the officers of the college.

Abraham Pierson was made the first rector of

* Thev were James Noyes, of Stonintrton ; Israel Chauney,
of Stratford; Thomas Buckingham, of Saybrook; Abraham
Pierson, of KlUirjgworth ; Samuel Mather, of Windsor;
Samuel Andrew, of Milford; Timothy Woodbridfo, of Hart-
ford ; James Pierpont, of New Haven ; Noadiah Kussell, of
Middlotown; Joseph Webb, of Fairfield. To theso Samuel
Eussell, of Branford, was afterwards added.

86

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

the college, and instructed the students in his
house atKillingworth. The first Commencement
was held at Say brook, in 1702, with advanced
scholars, several of them from Harvard, of which
college Pierson was also a graduate. He continued
to receive his pupils at Killingworth, till his
death in 1707. He prepared a text-book for the
students in Natural Philosophy. The collegiate
school, as it was called, was now set up at Say-
brook, under the care of tutors, where the com-
mencements continued to be held, though the
Rev. Samuel Andrew, of Milford, rector pro tern.,
instructed the senior class at his home. New
Haven and Hartford, too, had their claims for the
seat of the college. There was much agitation
of the matter, but it was finally carried in favor
of New Haven, in 1716.* The first Commence-
ment in New Haven was held in 1717.

Elibu Tale.

Elihu Yale, a native of the place, who had
left it in his boyhood, became possessed of great
wealth in the East Indies, and was created
Governor of Fort St. George, and had married,
moreover, an Indian fortune. On his return to
London, he contributed books and merchandise
to the college of his native town. The trustees
now took advantage of this prominent opportu-
nity to name the new college house after so
liberal a benefactor, and Tale College soon be-
came the name of the institution itself. Yale
" was a gentleman," says President Clap, in his
history of the college, " who greatly abounded in
good humour and generosity, as well as in
wealth.t The following is a copy of his epitaph
in the church-yard at Wrexham, Wales.

Under this tomb lyes interr'd Elihu Yale
of Place Gronow, Esq. ; born 5th April, 1048,
and dyed the 8th of July, 1721, aged 73 years.

Born in America, in Europe bred,

In Afric travell'd, and in Asia wed,

Where long he liv'd and thriv'd : at London dead.

Much Good, some 111 he did : so hope all's Even,

And that his soul thro' Mercy's gone to Heav'n.
Yon that survive and read, take care
For this most certain Exit to prepare,

* Wethersfield had its pretensions, and a number of students
having been educated there, under the care of Elisba Williams,
a commencement was held there and degrees conferred, which
were afterwards ratified at New Haven. To remove the library
from Savbrook to New Haven process was issued and the
sheriff resisted. Important papers, and two hundred and fifty
valuable volumes were lost to the college in the struggle.
— SaMimn's Hi-it. qf Yale, 1st Ed. p. 85.

t History of Yale College, 80.

For only the Actions of the Just,
Smell sweet and blossom in the dust.

Under an engraved picture of Governor Yale,
sent to the cjllege at an early period, was the
following inscription in manuscript : —

Effigies clarissimi viri D. D. Elihu Yale
Londinensis, Armigeri.
En vir ! cui meritas laudes ob facta, per orbis

Extremos fines, inclyta fauna dedit.
jEquor arans tumidum, gnzas adduxit ab Indis,

Quas Ille sparsit munificante manu :
Inscitiaj tenebrns, ut noctis luce eorusca

Phoebus, ab oceiduis pellit et llle plagis.
Dum mens grata manet, nomen laudesque Yalenses

Cantabunt Soboles, unanimique Patees.

which the poet Percival has thus imitated.

Behold the man, for generous deeds renown'd,

Who in remotest regions won his fame:
With wise munificence he scattered round

The wealth that o'er the sea from India came.
From western realms he bids dark ignorance fly,

As flies the night before the dawning rays:
So long as grateful bosoms beat, shall high

Yaie's sons and pious fathers sing his praise.*

Jeremiah Dummer, of Boston, the agent of
Massachusetts in England, in 1714, had been an
earlier generous donor to the library. He gave,
or procured, some eight hundred valuable volumes.
The names of his friends who were associated
with him in the gift, impart to it additional
value. They were among the most distinguished
men of that day, and include Sir Isaac Newton,
Sir Richard Steele, Burnet, Woodward, Halley,
Bentley, Kennet, Calamy, Edwards, and Whis-
ton, who gave copies of their writings to the
collection.

When the college was thus established at New
Haven, the Rev. Timothy Cutler, of Stratford,
was chosen its Rector, and, as a compensation to
the people of the place he was leaving, the trus-
tees of Yale bought their minister from them,
paying for his house and lot, and giving them to
the town. A new difficulty now presented itself.
The orthodox Rector, with a tutor and two
neighboring clergymen, announced, in 1722, their
intention to give up New England theology for
Episcopal ordination in England. The discovery
was made at the time of Commencement, shortly
after which occasion, Gov. Saltonstall held a per-
sonal dispute on the subject with the recusant
Rector and one of his most distinguished asso-
ciates, the Rev. Samuel Johnson, of New Haven.
The trustees met, and voted that they " do excuse
the Rev. Mr. Cutler from all further service, as
Rector of Yale College." The connexion was at an
end. Mr. Cutler, with his friend Johnson, after-
wards President of Columbia College, and several
other of the New England clergy, went to Eng-
land, where he received the degree of Doctor in
Divinity from Oxford ; he returned to America,
and was rector, till his death, in 1765, of Christ
Church, in Boston. He was a loss to Yale, from
his strength of mind and his acquirements in
Oriental literature. He was, says President
Stiles, in his Diary, " a good logician, geographer,

* Ktnirsley's Sketch of Tale College. Am. Qnar. He?. viiL
19. Sketches of Tale College, with numerous anecdotes.
1S43, p. 28.

YALE COLLEGE.

87

and rhetorician. In the philosophy and meta-
physics and ethics of his day, he was great. He
spoke Latin with great fluency and dignity, and
with great propriety of pronunciation. He was
a man of extensive reading in the academic
sciences, divinity, and ecclesiastical history; and
of a commanding presence and dignity in govern-
ment. He was of a lofty and despotic mien, and
made a grand figure at the head of a college."*

Mr. Andrew, of Milford, one of the trustees,
again took the management, as head of the col-
lege, fro tempore, till 1726, when the Rev. Elisha
Williams, of Wethersfield, became Rector, which
he continued till 1739. It was during this time that
Berkeley, afterwards the Bishop of Cloyne, made
his celebrated donations to the college, which,
with great liberality, he took under his particular
favor. He had become acquainted, at Newport,
R. I., with one of the trustees, the Rev. Jared Eliot,
and with the Rev. Samuel Johnson, of Stratford,
who called his attention to the wants of the col-
lega. On his return to England, in 1732, he gave
to the college a deed of his house and farm in New-
port, for the assistance of the three best scholars
in Latin and Greek who should reside at college
for nine months of each of the three years
between the first and second degrees. To deter-
mine the priority in scholarship, a special examina-
tion is to bo held annually, by the President and
senior Episcopal missionary within the colony.
If these do not agree, the choice is to be deter-
mined by lot. The persons selected are to be
called "scholars of the house." Any surplus
which may remain by vacancies is to be expend-
ed in Greek and Latin books, to be distributed as
prizes to undergraduates. Such were the pro-
visions of the settlement. The property does not
yield any considerable income, having been leased
for a long term at a time when money was of
more value than it is now. There have been a
number of successful applicants for " the dean's
bounty," who have afterwards become dis-
tinguished. Of these may be mentioned, Dr.
Wheelock, the first President of Dartmouth ; the
Rev. Aaron Burr, President of the College of
New Jersey; the Hon. Jared Ingersoll, Presi-
dents Daggett and Dwight, the Rev. Joseph
Buckminster, and the Hon. Abraham Baldwin.
The Berkeleian prizes have also reflected honor on
the college.t Berkeley also procured a choice
collection of books for the college — contributing
in all nearly a thousand volumes, including a set
of the Christian Fathers, a large representation
of the Greek and Latin Classics, and other well
chosen works, among which were Ben Jon-
son, Dryden and Pope, Butler and Wycherley.
When Rector Clap arranged the general collec-
tion, in 1742, he tells us, "in honour to the Rev.
Dr. Berkeley for his extraordinary donation, his
hooks stood by themselves, at the south end of
the library."]:

The career of Rector Williams was more varied
than falls to the lot of most college Presidents.
He was born in Massachusetts, and was a graduate
of Harvard. He passed from his parish duties at

* Appendix to Holmes's Stiles, 887.

+ Prof. Kingsley's Sketch of the History of Yale College.
Am. Quar. Register, viii. 211. List of Scholars of the House
in Yale Lit. Mag. xvii. 190.

J Clap's History, 43.

Wethersfield to the Presidency of Yale. Com-
pelled to retire from the latter by ill health, ha
became member of the Connecticut House of Re-
presentatives and a Judge. In 1745 he revived
his clerical functions to become army chaplain in
the Cape Breton expedition. The next year he
was appointed colonel of a regiment in the expe-
dition against Canada. Going to England to
secure his half-pay, he married there and returned
to die at Wethersfield in 1755, at the age of sixty-
one. President Stiles, in his Literary Diary,
speaks of him as " a good classical scholar, well
read in logic, metaphysics and ethics, and in
rhetoric and oratory. He presided at commence-
ment with great honor. He spoke Latin freely,
delivered orations gracefully and with animated
dignity."

Williams was succeeded, in the year 1740, by the
Rev. Thomas Clap, who was withdrawn from the
ministry of Windham, the college as before buying
his time from the townspeople. The compensation
for loss of services was referred to three members
of the General Assembly, who " were of opinion,
that inasmuch as Mr. Clap had been in the
ministry at Windham fourteen years, which was
about half the time miuisters in general continue
in their public work ; the people ought to have
half as much as they gave him for a settlement ;
which, upon computation, was about fifty-three
pounds sterling."* Clap entered vigorously upon
the duties of the college, drew up a body of laws,
the books were catalogued, and a new charter
obtained, by which the Rector and Trustees
became entitled President and Fellows.

In 1747, a part of the means for erecting a new
college building, to accommodate the increasing
number of students, was raised by a lottery. The
preaching of Whitefield having agitated the popu-
lar faith, a theological professorship was founded,
which took its name from its first contributor, the
Hon. Philip Livingston, of New York. A new
confession was made of the college faith, according
to the Assembly's Catechism, Dr. Ames's Medulla
and Cases of Conscience, and the Rev. Naphtali
Daggett, from Long Island, was appointed Pro-
fessor of Divinity in 1755. In 1703, the question
whether the Legislature of the State had a right
to exercise visitatorial power over the college was
much agitated. President Clap argued that the
legislature, not being the founders, had no such .
power, and successfully maintained this position.
Difficulties in the discipline and administration of
the college led to the resignation of President
Clap in 1766. His death occurred a few months
after. He was a man of piety, and a diligent
head of his college, which greatly increased under
his administration of twenty-seven years. He
had been educated by Dr. M'Sparran, the mission-
ary clergyman of Rhode Island. His literary
accomplishments were large. He excelled espe-
cially in the Mathematics and Natural Philosophy
— and constructed the first orrery or planetarium
in America. He published a letter to Jonathan
Edwards, on the Whitefield matter. His other
publications were an essay on the Religious Con-
stitution of Colleges, 1754; a Vindication of the
Doctrines of the New England Churches, in
1755 ; an Essay on the Nature and Foundation

Clap's nistory of Yale College, 41.

88

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

of Moral Virtue and Obligation, in 1765 ; and
a History of Yale College in 1766.* His Con-
jectures on the Nature and Motion of Me-
teors above the Atmosphere, was issued posthu-
mously in 1781. He made collections for a His-
tory of Connecticut. His manuscripts, then in
the possession of his daughter, the wife of General
Wooster, were plundered in Tryon's expedition
against New Haven, and thrown overboard into
Long Island Sound. A few were picked up after
some days by boatmen, but most were lost.

Pre^dent Stiles has left a minute literary cha-
racter of him, in which he speaks enthusiastically
of the extent of his attainments ; his knowledge of
Newton's Principia ; his study of moral philoso-
phy in Wollaston, and of the ancient and modern
powers of Europe. Stiles, warming with the
recollections of his predecessor, describes his
habits of reading, by subjects rather than volumes
■ — and his aspect, " light, placid, serene, and con-
templative," adding, "he was a calm, still, judi-
cious great man.vt

In 1767, Professor Daggett was chosen Presi-
dent pro tempore, and continued in this position
until 1777, when Dr. Ezra Stiles was elected Pre-
sident, Pres. Daggett continuing in his Chair of
Divinity. The latter was a man of worth and use-
fulness. "When the British took possession of
New Haven in 1779, he was taken by the enemy
wounded, with his musket in his hand, resisting
their advance. He was unhandsomely treated
with violence and personal injury by his captors.}:
His college Presidency is memorable in our nar-
rative for the presence in the college as pupils, of
Trumbull, Dwight, Humphreys, and Barlow.

Of Stiles and of Dwight, who succeeded with
bo much distinction to the college, something is
said on other pages of this book. The Presi-
dency of the former extended from 1777 to 1795 ;
of Dwight, from that date till 1817. The college
increased greatly in influence and resources at
these periods, after the interruption of the Revo-
lution. The personal influence of these men was
great. Dwight enlarged the scope of studies by
furthering the claims of general literature, in
which he was himself so accomplished a profi-
cient. The Professorships of Kingsley and Silli-
man were instituted during Dwight's adminis-
tration.

Jeremiah Day held the presidency from 1817
till his retirement in 184:6. He was born in New
Preston, Connecticut, in 1773, and in 1795 had
succeeded Dwight in the conduct of his school at
Greenfield Hill. He was a graduate of Yale, and
in 1801 had received the appointment of Professor
of Mathematics and Natural Philosophy, which
he held till his election to the government of the
college. He has published several mathematical
treatises for students, which have been widely
circulated, and in 1838, An Inquiry Respecting
the Self-Determining Power of the Will ; or, Con-

* The Annals or History of Yale College, In New Haven, in
the Colony of Connecticut, from the first founding thereof in
the year 1700, to the year 1766: with an Appendix, containing
the present state of the College, the Method of Instruction
and Government, with the Officers, Benefactors, and Gradu-
ates. By Thomas Clap, A.M., President of the said College.
New Haven : Printed for John liotchkiss and B, Mecoin,
1766. 8vo.

t Appendix to Life of Stiles, by Holmes, S90.

i Baldwin's Hist. Tale Col. 1C3.

tingent Volition. 12mo. And in 1841, An Ex-
amination of Pres. Edwards's Inquiry on the
Freedom of the Will. 12mo.

Alexander Metcalf Fisher was the successor to
President Day in his Professorship. He was a
young man of high promise, and had already
made important contributions to mathematical
and physical science. His sudden death, at the
age of twenty-eight, in the shipwreck of the
Albion on the coast of Ireland, in 1822, when he
was on his voyage to Europe for the collection
of scientific materia^ and for self-improvement,
has lent additional interest to his memory.

Theodore Dwight Woolsey succeeded to Presi-
dent Day. He was born in New York in 1801,
the son of a merchant, and a nephew on the mo-
ther's side of President Dwight. His education,
was at Yale and the Theological Seminary at
Princeton. After this he passed several years in
Europe, extending his studies of the Greek lan-
guage and literature in Germany. On his return
he was appointed Professor of Greek at Yale in
1831, and discharged the duties of the position
for twenty years, giving to the public during this
period his editions of the Greek tragedians, the
Prometheus of ^Eschylus, the Antigone and Elec-
tra of Sophocles, and the Aleestis of Euripides.
He has also edited the Gorgias of Plato. His
inauguration discourse in 1846, on the subject of
college education, was a philosophical view of the
subject, asserting the claims of a classical education.
In his Historical Discourse, delivered before the
graduates of Yale in 1850, on the completion of the
third semi-centennial period, he has sketched the
development of the college, in its studies, with an
able pen. In the sphere of philosophical discourse
he has a thoroughly disciplined mind.

The college has been distinguished by the long
periods of service maintained by its officers and
professors. The terms of four of its presidents,
Clap, Stiles, Dwight, and Day, cover a period of
nearly a hundred years. Kingsley was tutor and
professor for more than fifty years. The con-
nexion of Benjamin Silliman with the instruction
of the college, dates from 1799; of Chauncey
Allen Goodrich, from 1812; of Olmsted, from
1815; of President Woolsey, from his tutorship
in 1823.

Professor James L. Kingsley was long a repre-
sentative man of the college. He had taught in
nearly every one of its departments, and identi-
fied himself with each step of its development.
Born in Connecticut, he was a graduate of the
college of the class of 1799, the same year with.
Moses Stuart. Two years afterwards he wa3
appointed tutor, and in 1805, professor of the
Greek, Hebrew, and Latin Languages and of Ec-
clesiastical History, discharging with ability the
various duties of these offices as required, till
with the improved adjustment of the college in-
struction, he entered in 1831 upon a distinct pro-
fessorship of the Latin Language and Literature,
continuing for some time to give instruction In
Hebrew. He resigned his post in 1851, exactly
half a century after his first appointment from the
college, and was then honored with the title of
Emeritus Professor, till his death, shortly after,
in August, 1852. He was a close and accurate
scholar, well versed in Greek and Hebrew, and
an adept in Latin. " I doubt," said President Wool-

YALE COLLEGE.

89

sey in an address at his funeral, " if any Ameri-
can scholar has ever surpassed him in Latin
style." He first introduced into use in America,
about 1805, as a text-book, the two volumes of
the Ormca Majora, with which most American
students have been at some time familiar. His
encouragement of mathematical science was also
of importance. His familiarity with American
history, particularly of his own state, was great;
and he had given to the college annals, and the
large opportunities of biographical study offered
by the Triennial Catalogues, in the preparation
of which he was concerned, au attention inspired
by taste and habit. The Historical Discourse,
which he delivered in 1838, On the Two Hun-
dredth Anniversary of the First Settlement of
the Town and Colony of New Haven, and his
Sketch of the History of Yale College, published
in 1835, in the American Quarterly Register,
are proofs of this. He was, besides, the author
of The Life of President Stiles, in Sparks'*
American Biography, of a Eulogy on Professor
Fisher, and of various critical articles in the
North American Review, the Christian Spectator,
the New Englander, the American Journal of
Science, the Biblical Repository, and other peri-
odicals. His successor in the Professorship of
Latin, Thomas A. Thacher, in a Commemorative
Discourse, in October, 1852, speaks of his genuine
love of his classical studies, of his fondness for
biographical anecdote, and of his intimacy with
English literature.*

Professor Benjamin Silliman was born in 1779,
in Trumbull, in Connecticut. He was a graduate
of the college, of the year 1796, for a time
studied the law, in 1799 became a college tutor,
and has since been prominent in its faculty, —
his Professorship of Chemistry, Mineralogy, and
Geology dating from 1804. He visited Europe
the following year, to procure books and appara-
tus for the college, and was abroad fifteen months.
In 1810, he published an account of this tour in
his Journal of Travels in England, Holland, and
Scotland, and two p .stages on the Atlantic, in the
years 1805 and 1806. Nearly fifty years later,
he crossed the Atlantic again, and has contrasted
his observations after this interval in the two
volumes which he published in 1853, with the
title, A Visit to Europe in 1851. Another record
of his travels is his Remarks made in a Short
Tour between Hartford and Quebec in the autumn
of 1819. In the course of his college engage-
ment, he has published Elements of Chemistry
in the order of the Lectures in Yale College, in
1830; and has edited Henry's Chemistry and
Bake well's Geology. His lectures on Chemistry,
to which the public have been admitted, at Yale,

* "He enjoyed a kind of personal acquaintance with Addison
and Johnson and Milton and Shakespeare, and many others,
whose writings ho relished the more from his habit of giving
a personal existence to the writers. He took an interest in
their history; and when he visited England the streets and
corners of the capital seemed to be peopled, almost, with the
old worthies of his library, from Johnson, with his ghost in
Cock-lane, to Milton, in St. Giles's, Cripplegate. One could
easily have imagined, at times, from observing the heartiness
of the pleasure he derived from the more elegant writers of
past times, both classical and later, that he might even join in
Walter Pope's wish, and ask for retirement from the world, to
live in intellectual converse,

" With Horace, and Petrarch, and two or three more,
Of the best wits that reigned in the ages before."

Discourse, p. 46.

and which he ..as delivered in the chief cities of
the country, have gained him much reputation,
which has been extended at home and abroad by
his American Journal of Science, of which he
commenced the publication in 1818.

Denison Olmsted succeeded to the chair of Ma-
thematics and Natural Philosophy in 1825, which
he held till 1836, when a new distribution of the
duties took place, under which he entered upon
his present Professorship of Natural Philosophy
and Astronomy. He was born at East Hartford,
the son of a farmer, in 1791. became a graduate
of the college in 1813, then a tutor, when in 1817
he was appointed to the Professorship of Che-
mistry in the University of North Carolina, "which
he held for seven years. At that time he com-
menced, with the support of the legislature, tho
Geological Survey of the State, the first survey of
the kind in the country, and published papers on
the Gold Mines of North Carolina, and Illumi-
nating Gas from cotton seed, in the American
Journal of Science, to which he has been a fre-
quent contributor. His chief writings have been
Thoughts on the Clerical Profession, a series of
Essavs, in 1817 ; his Introduction to Natural
Philosophy, in 1832; an Introduction to Astro-
nomy, in 1839, the substance of which he embo-
died in a volume, Letters on Astronomy addressed
to a Lady, in 1840; Rudiments of Natural Phi-
losophy and Astronomy, 1843, a work of such
clearness and simplicity that it has been published
in raised letters for the use of the blind, by the
Massachusetts Asylum, and has been found well
adapted to the instruction of the deaf and dumb ;
a Life of Mason, the young astronomer, and
materials for several volumes of miscellanies in
his contributions to the leading reviews, consist-
ing of Moral Essays, Biographical Sketches,
one of the earliest being Pres. Dwight, in tho
Port Folio of 1817, Addresses, and Scientific
Memoirs.

Connected with the labors of this chair of Ma-
thematics and Natural Philosophy, was a young
man, a graduate of the College, whose career, soon
cut short by the fatal malady of consumption,
was yet long enough to make a name for himself,
and confer lasting honor on the institution. This
was Ebenezer Porter Mason, who died in 1840,
at the age of twenty-two, the story of whose pre-
cocious childhood, early mature development, and
scientific acquirements, has been narrated with
many sound reflections by the way, in an interest-
ing volume by Prof. Olmsted, with whom he was
associated.* Mason was born at Washington,
Litchfield County, Connecticut, in 1819; he died
in 1840, at the house of a relative near Richmond,
Virginia. His attention was awakened in his
childhood to books of science. He studied with in-
terest when he was nine years old the treatises in
the Library of Useful Knowledge. At the age
of thirteen he read the iEneid, and made excellent
translations from it in heroic verse. His original
verses written shortly after this time, if they dis-
play ingenuity rather than poetic conception,
show the general powers of his mind and his
literary tastes. Science, however, was to be his

* Life and Writings of Ebenezer Porter Mason ; interspersed
with hints to Parents and Instructors on the training and edu-
cation of a Child of Genius, By Tenison Olmsted. New York,
Dayton and Newman, 1842. 12mo. pp. 252.

90

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAS' LITERATURE

Tale College.

peculiar vocation, and astronomy that branch
which he was especially to cultivate. His skill
and manual tact in constructing instruments and
recording observations, while a College student,
were very remarkable. On the completion of his
course in 1839, he became a Resident Graduate;
and in the short interval which remained before
his death, found time in narrow circumstances,
with rapidly failing health, to pursue and pub-
lish his Observations on Nebulm* a paper which
gained the admiration of Sir John Herschel, who
has thus spoken of the composition and its au-
thor : — " Mr. Mason, a young and ardent astrono-
mer, a native of the United States of America,
whose premature death is the more to be regret-
ted as he was (so far as I am aware) the only
other recent observer who has given himself with
the assiduit3T which the subject requires, to the
exact delineation of Nebulre, and whose figures I
find at all satisfactory.''! He also prepared a col-
lege treatise on Practical Astronomy. In the
autumn of 1840, he was engaged in the difficult
public service of Prof. Renwick's North Eastern
Boundary Survey. He returned to his friends to
die before the year closed.

Oh! what a noble heart was here undone,
When Science' self destroyed her favourite son.

The Rev. Chauncey A. Goodrich was elected
professor of Rhetoric and Oratory in 1817, and
discharged the duties of this office until 1839, when
he was transferred to the Professorship of Pas-
toral Theology, in which office he still continues.
He was for several years editor of the Quarterly
Christian Spectator, and is extensively and favor-
ably known by his works of Greek elementary
instruction, his Collection of Select British Elo-

* In the Transactions of the American Philosophical Society
for 1840.

t Sir John F. W. Herschel's Results of Astronomical Obser-
vations, 1S84-S, at the Cape of Good Hope, p. 7.

quence, and his revised and enlarged edition of
Webster's Dictionary.

In 1841, a Professorship of the Arabic and
Sanskrit languages and literature was established
in the college, and Prof. Edward E. Salisbury was
appointed to the chair. His Inaugural Discourse
(New Haven, 1843, 8vo. pp. 51) is a learned and
comprehensive survey of the wide and important
field of Oriental literature. He has for many
years been the Secretary of the American Orien-
tal Society, and the editor of its journal, to which
he has contributed many valuable papers. This
work has reached its fourth volume, and is highly
creditable to American scholarship. In 1854 the
professorship was divided, Prof. Salisbury re-
taining the Arabic, and resigning the Sanskrit.
To the latter professorship Mr. William D. Whit-
ney, an eminent Sanskrit scholar, was then ap-
pointed.

The Medical establishment was organized in
1813, and has enjoyed the services of many
eminent men as instructors from that time to the
present. The number of professors is now six.

The Theological department of the college was
organized in 1822, the Rev. Nathaniel W. Taylor
being associated as Professor of Didactic Theology
with the Rev. Eleazar T. Fitch, who, in 1817, suc-
ceeded Dr. Dwight as Professor of Divinity.
These gentlemen have long been well known by
their lectures and published works. In 1824,
Josiah Willard Gibbs was chosen Professor of
Sacred Literature, which office he still holds. He
is the author of a valuable Lexicon of the He-
brew Language, and of very many contributions
to general philology.

The Law School, which was commenced about
1820, was not definitely connected with the col-
lege until 1830; and the degree of LL.B. was
first conferred here in 1843. The school is con-
ducted by two professors — Clark Bissell, late
Judge of the Supreme Court of Connecticut, and
Henry Dntton, Governor of that State.

YALE COLLEGE.

91

In 1847 was established the department of
Philosophy and the Arts. By this it was intended
to provide means by which some of the collegiate
studies, such as philosophy, philology, pure mathe-
matics, and the like, might be prosecuted by
graduates under systematic instruction, and others,
not graduates, who should be properly qualified,
might be trained to fulfil in a creditable manner
the office of the civil engineer, of the scientific
miner and geologist, of the scientific agricultu-
rist, and the like ; thus furnishing society with a
body of highly educated men in its various de-
partments, and introducing, in fact, new liberal
professions among the learned pursuits. In this
new department are included the professorships
of chemistry applied to agriculture, chemistry
applied to the arts, and of civil engineering.
The first professor of agricultural chemistry was
John Pitkin Norton, a young man of high pro-
mise, and thoroughly qualified for the place. He
discharged the duties of his office with great zeal
and success, and by lectures at home and abroad,
and by his essays and treatises, accomplished much
good during his brief life. In the midst of his
usefulness he was arrested by fatal illness, and
died Sept. 5th, 1852, at the age of thirty. His
successor is Prof. John A. Porter. Prof. B. Sil-
liman, Jr., was appointed to the chair of che-
mistry applied to the arts, and still continues in
office. Prof. Win. A. Norton is the professor of
civil engineering.

In 1850 the Silliman professorship of natural
history was established, and James D. Dana was
appointed to the office. He is the author of a
comprehensive treatise on Mineralogy, which has
passed through four editions, and also of a work
on the Geology and Mineralogy of the U. S. Ex-
ploring Expedition, and of a work on the
Zoophytes and Crustacea collected during that
cruise. His contributions to the American Jour-
nal of Science, of which lie is one of the editors,
are numerous and valuable.*

Yale College is connected with the history of
religion in the country, as having educated more
than 1500 clergymen, and as having been the
scene of numerous revivals of religion. "In the
space of ninety-six years from the great revival
of 1741, the college," says Prof. Goodrich, "has
been favored with twenty distinct effusions of
the Holy Spirit, of which three were in the
last century and seventeen in the present."t

The benefactors to the college deserve a pass-
ing mention. D wight in his letters remarks that
they have been men of moderate fortunes.!
Among these, the Hon. Oliver Wolcott gave two
thousand dollars to the library. Eli Whitney,
the inventor of the cotton gin, a graduate of the
college, founded a fund of five hundred dollars,

* During the last ten years do one in America has made so
many important contributions to natural history. His reports J
ofthe Exploring Expedition are,

1. Report on Zoophytes. 1846. pp. 4704to. Atlas of 61 plates

folio. 23J new species of Zoophytes figured.

2. Report on Geology. 1849. pp. 756 4to. Atlas of 21 folio

plates of fossils.
S. Report on Crustacea. 1854. 2 vols, of 1620 pages in all. At-
las of 96 plates folio: 680 species figured; 658 of them new.
Of those and the other reporls, the government have, in their
folly, published only a hundred copies each.

t Narrative of Revivals of Religion in Tale College. Am.
Quar. Keg. x. 239.
$ Travels in New England and New York, i. 207.

the interest of which is to be expended in the pur-
chase of books on mechanical and physical science.
Dr. Alfred E. Perkins, also a graduate, bequeathed
ten thousand dollars as a permanent fund to the
library in 1834. Dr. Jedediah Morse and Mr.
S. F. B. Morse were contributors of a valuable col-
lection of books to the library in 1823. Among
the donors to the philosophical apparatus, the name
of Dr. Isaac Watts occurs for a pair of globes.

lilRf

an

Tale Library.

The college library, with the collections of the
societies, deposited in different departments, in the
costly and ornamental library building of Port-
land sandstone, numbered in 1854 some 54,000
volumes. The library is rich in old New Eng-
land theology, and in general history and meta-
physics. Its American antiquarian treasures include
a unique newspaper collection of contemporary
papers relating to the Stamp Act, made by Pre-
sident Stiles, and the extensive series of his MS.
Journals and commonplace books, of an historical
as well as personal interest. The library lias the
collection of papers made by Trumbull for his
History of Connecticut. An addition of much
value was made in 1854, being the entire library
of the late Prof. Thilo, of Halle, consisting of
above 4000 volumes, chiefly in ecclesiastical his-
tory and kindred departments.

the library possesses four of the original sculp-
tures of Nineveh, sent to America by the Eev. W.
F. Williams, American missionary at Mosul.

There have been but three specially appointed
librarians, the duty before 1805 having been dis-
charged by tutors — Professor Kingsley, Josiah
Willard Gibbs, and the present incumbent, Ed-
ward C. Herrick. In the Trumbull Gallery,
the College possesses a constant means of at-
traction to visitors. There are collected a valu-
able series of Revolutionary paintings by the
artist from whom the building has been named,
and beneath which he lies buried, with many
other works of interest, portraits of the college
presidents, and illustrious men of the state, in-
cluding the celebrated family group of Dean
Berkeley and his friends, painted by Smibert.

The Phi Beta Kappa Society of Yale was or-
ganized in 1780. Its catalogue shows a list of
honored names, from the poets Trumbull and
Barlow to the present day. Its orators and poets

92

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN" LITERATURE

have included, among others, Edward Everett,
T. S. Grirake, Gardiner Spring, James Kent,
Albert Barnes, Horace Bushncll, Edward Robin-
son, Daniel Lord, J. G. Percival, Elizur Wright,
Oliver Wendell Holmes, Wm. H. Seward.

The college societies, the Linonian and the
Brothers in Unity, are supported with spirit. To
the last, literary men are indebted for the first
edition of the Alphabetical Index to subjects
treated in Reviews, prepared by William Fre-
derick Poole, its librarian.

The Yale Literary Magazine, contributed to
by undergraduates, was commenced in 1836,*
and has been well sustained since, being by far
the longest-lived publication of its kind. Its
series of portraits and lives of the Presidents and
Professors are valuable; while it has published
original articles of merit from the pens of Colton,
Bristed, Thompson, Mitchell, Finch, and others.

Comparing the, catalogues of the two oldest
colleges, Harvard and Yale, we find, that up to
the close of 1854, in the former institution there
had been, from the year 1642, 6,612 alumni, of
whom 2,273 were then survivors; and of Yale,
from 1702 to the close of 1853, there had been
6,212 graduates, of whom 3,065 were living — so
that in point of number of living alumni the
latter institution stands at the head of the col-
leges of the country.

JONATHAN EDWARDS.

Jonathan Edwards, one of the first metaphysi-
cians of his age, and the last and finest product
of the old Puritanism of America, was born
in East Windsor, Connecticut, October 5, 1703.
His family and culture were strictly evangelical.
Four generations back, on his father's side, his
ancestor was a clergyman of the Established
Church in London, in the time of Elizabeth. His
son emigrated to Hartford, in Connecticut, in the
middle of the seventeenth century. He was a
merchant, as was also his son Richard, who super-
added to that worldly calling a life of eminent
piety. The next in descent was the Rev. Timothy
Edwards, the father of our author. He was a
graduate of Harvard, and the first minister of
East Windsor. In the old French war, he accom-
panied an expedition as chaplain on its way to
Canada. He married the daughter of the Rev.
Solomon Stoddard, of Northampton, with whom
he lived more than sixty-three years — his widow
surviving him twelve years, when she died in her
ninety-ninth year. This lady, the mother of
Jonathan Edwards, is spoken of as possessed of
superior force of understanding and refinement of
character. The father was a man of learning and
devotion to his ministry.

It is impossible to study the portrait of Jona-
than Edwards without noticing an air of purity,
a tinge perhaps of feminine character, a look of
thorough earnestness, and an expression of native
delicacy. Energy and reserve seem to be happily
blended in his countenance.! On reading the

* Three or four college magazines had previously been pub-
lished here, as the Literary Cabinet in 1807, the AVtenanm in
1S14, &c. In 1831 appeared Tlie Student's Companion, by the
Knights of the Round Table, the two hundred pages of which
were written almost exclusively by David Francis Bacon.
. t "In his youth he appeared healthy, and with a good decree
of vivacity, but was never robust. Ig middle life, he appeared

narrative of his youthful studies and early deve-
lopements of intellect and piety, we see an exube-

ranee in both which indicate a richly endowed
nature. Education, whatever it may be with
such a man, is simply the mould to be filled by
his genius. In other places, in other relations,
he would always be a man of mark. In the field
of the belles lettres, if he had cultivated them, he
would have shone as an acute critic and poet;
among men of science, as a profound and original
observer; among wits, as a subtle philosopher.
As it was, born in New England, of the ghostly
line of Puritanism, all his powers were confined
to Christian morals and metaphysics.

The religious element was developed in him
very early. At the age of seven or eight, in a
period of religious excitement in his father's con-
gregation, he attained a height of devotional
fervor, and built a booth in a retired swamp for
secret prayer, with some of his school companions.
His account of his " early religious life is pure and
fervent, recalling the sublime imagination of Sir
Thomas Browne of those who have understood
Christian annihilation, gustation of God, and
ingression into the divine shadow, and have had
already an handsome anticipation of heaven."
Nature at that time was transfigured before him.
It was the thorough consecration of a mind of
the strongest powers and finest temper. His love
of nature was a trait of his boyhood. Before the
age of twelve he had written a minute account of
the habits of a forest spider. When the world
gained a great metaphysician it perhaps lost an
admirable natural historian.

Edwards entered Yale College in his thirteenth
year, when he fell in with Locke's Essay on the

very much emaciated, by severe study, and intense mental
application. In his person he was tall of stature — about six
feet one inch — and of a slender form. He had a high, broad,
bold forehead, and an eye unusually piercing and luminous;
and on his whole countenance, the features of his mind — per-
spicacity, sincerity, and benevolence — were so strongly im-
pressed, that no one could behold it, without at once discover-
ing the clearest indications of great intei'^c*" tf and moral
elevation.1' — Life by Sereno E. Dwiglit,

JONATHAN EDWARD3.

93

Understanding, ■which ha read ■with great zest.
It was always his habit to think and write as he
read, so that his pen, as his biographer remarks,
was always in his hand. This course adds to
the exactness and labor of study, and begets a
habit which, amidst the infinite riches of human
learning, is not readily expended. It is not sur-
prising, therefore, that Edwards afterwards came
to devote nearly two thirds of the day to study.
He was graduated at the college with the highest
honor, and continued to reside in the institution
two years, for the study of the ministry. His
first clerical occupation was in New York, where
he preached to a congregation of Presbyterians in

1722, in his nineteenth year. His meditations at
this time were full of ardor and humility. " The
soul of a true Christian, as I then wrote my medi-
tations," says he, "appeared like such a little
white flower as we see in the spring of the year ;
low and humble on the ground, opening its bosom
to receive the pleasant beams of the sun's glory ;
rejoicing, as it were, in a calm rapture, diffusing
around a sweet fragrancy ; standing peacefully
and lovingly, in the midst of other flowers round
about ; all in like manner opening their bosoms,
to drink in the light of the sun." He records his
frequent retirement " into a solitary place on the
banks of Hudson's river, at some distance from
the city, for contemplation on divine things and
secret converse with God; and had many sweet
hours there." Before he had completed his
twentieth year, he had solemnly arranged a
series of seventy resolutions, which were to be
the guiding principles of his life. These relate to
the absolute performance of duty without regard
to immediate motive or difficulty ; to the intensity
of occupation, — '"to live with all my might while
I do live " — to regard the various moral duties,
to practise the minor moralities, " in narrations
never to speak anything but the pure and simple
verity." The fifty-first resolution, dated July 8,

1723, is a singular expression at once of submis-
sion and of strength of will: — "that I will act so,
in every respect, as I think I shall wish I had
done, if I should at last be damned." A private
religious Diary which he wrote, commences Dec.
18, 1722, and closes June 11, 1726. One entry
marks the student, and the comparative isolation
of the man from the world : — " I am sometimes
in a frame so listless, that there is no other way
of profitably improving time but conversation,
visiting, or recreation, or some bodily exercise.
However, it may be best, in the first place, before
resorting to either of these, to try the whole
circle of my mental employments." This was
dangerous theory and practice with his delicate
constitution.

From New York, where he resided eight
months, he returned to a tutorship in Yale, where
he remained till he became associated, in 1726,
on his ordination, with his grandfather, the Rev.
Mr. Stoddard, in his ministry at Northampton,
In July of this year he married Miss Sarah
Pierrepont, the daughter of a clergyman of strong
clerical connexions, and a young lady of eighteen,
of unusual beauty. The spiritual description of
her gentle habits, written by Edwards, apparently
on reports of her excellence brought to him when
she was but thirteen years of age, is the uncon-
scious admiration of the lover in the saint. " They

say," writes on a blank leaf the pure-minded
young man of twenty, " there is a young lady in
New Haven who is beloved of that Great Being,
who made and rules the world, and that there are
certain seasons in which this Great Being, in some
way or other invisible, comes to her and fills her
mind with exceeding sweet delight, and that she
hardly cares for anything, except to meditate on
him — that she expects, after a while, to be
received up where he is, to he raised up out of
the world and caught up into heaven ; being
assured that he loves her too well to let her
remain at a distance from him always. There
she is to dwell with him, and to be ravished
with his love and delight for ever. Therefore, if
you present all the world before her, with the
richest of its treasures, she disregards it and
cares not for it, and is unmindful of any pain or
affliction. She has a strange sweetness in her
mind, and singular purity in her affections; is
most just and conscientious in all her conduct;
and you could not persuade her to do anything
wrong or sinful, if you would give her all the
world, lest she should offend this Great Being.
She is of a wonderful sweetness, calmness, and
universal benevolence of mind; especially after this
Great God has manifested himself to her mind.
She will sometimes go about from place to place,
singing sweetly, and seems to be always full of
joy and pleasure, and no one knows for what.
She loves to be alone, walking in the fields and
groves, and seems to have some one invisible
always conversing with her."*

His preaching at Northampton was devoted to
an awakening of zeal and restoration of strict
devotional conduct, which had somewhat declined.
Hiscourse was attended at the outset with success ;
a revival, a class of religious exercises for which the
town had been celebrated, in 1735, adding largely
for the time to his congregation. An account of
these scenes was published in " A Narrative of
Surprising Conversions," by Edwards, reissued in
London, with a preface by Dr. "Watts. Other
solemnities of the kind attended his ministry at
Northampton. To mark the distinctions of what
he considered true religion, he wrote the discri-
minating Treatise on lieligiovs Affections.

Whether the discipline attempted by Edwards
was overstrained or impolitic, or the system of
theology which ho pursued was more logical than
practicable, serious differences arose with the
people, which eventually, after he had preached
at Northampton for twenty-three years, compelled
his retirement. One point of difficulty was his
change in the test for the Communion. This rite
had been regarded as a means to conversion
rather than the end ; and persons admitted to
membership under it without a distinct profession.
In opposing this view, which had been de-
liberately established by his grandfather anil
predecessor, and enforcing his convictions, Ed-
wards was governed by the logical morality of
his early resolutions. He issued his work, " An
Humble Enquiry into the Rules of the Word of
God, concerning the Qualifications requisite to
a complete standing and full communion in the
Visible Christian Church." The townspeople

' Life by Dwight, p. 114.

91

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

instigated controversial replies and held meetings
of disapproval ; the result, after a great deal of
unhappy agitation, was Edwards's dismission, in
1750, by an Ecclesiastical Council. He was in-
stalled the next year minister at Stockbridge,
Mass., and missionary to the Indians then in that
vicinity. It was at this post, where he con-
tinued six years, that he wrote, in the midst of
cares and anxieties, in the short time of four
months and a half, his " Essay on the Freedom of
the Will."* This work is written with great com-
pactness, never swerving from the line of the argu-
ment. While men will continue to act as if they
' were free, Edwards will still convince them that
they are bound by the iron hand of necessity.

With metaphysicians it has always taken the
highest reputation. Its worth has been pronounced
by "mouths of wisest censure."

' " In the New World," said Dugald Stewart, " the
state of society and of manners has not hitherto
been so favourable to abstract science as to pur-
suits which come home directly to the business
of human life. There is, however, one metaphy-
sician of whom America has to boast, who, in
logical acuteness and subtlety, does not yield to
any disputant bred in the Universities of Europe.
I need not say that I allude to Jonathan Edwards.
But at the time when he wrote, the state of
America was more favourable than it now is, or
can for a long period be expected to be, to such
inquiries as those which engaged his attention;
inquiries, by the way, to which his thoughts were
evidently turned, less by the impulse of specula-
tive curiosity than by his anxiety to defend the
theological system in which he had been educated,
and to which he was most conscientiously and
zealously attached. The effect of this anxiety in
sharpening his faculties, and in keeping his
polemical vigilance constantly on the alert, may
be traced in every step of his argument.''!

Hazlitt, whose " Principles of Human Action "
show him to have been a close and original
student of mental phenomena, and whose know-
ledge of metaphysical authors entitles him to an
authoritative opinion on the subject, says of the
" Treatise on the Will " and its author : " Having
produced him, the Americans need not despair of
their metaphysicians. We do not scruple to say,
that he is one of the acutest, most powerful, and
of all reasoners the most conscientious and sincere.
His closeness and candour are alike admirable.
Instead of puzzling or imposing on others, he
tries to satisfy his own mind. * * Far from
taunting his adversaries, he endeavours with all
his might to explain difficulties. * * His
anxiety to clear up the scruples of others is equal
to his firmness in maintaining his own opinion."!

A manuscript note, by Judge Egbert Benson, at-
tached to the copy of The Freedom of the Will —
the original Boston edition of 1754, with the sub-
scribers' names appended, preserved in the New

* A Careful and Strict Enquiry into the modern prevailing
Notions of that Freedom of Will, which is supposed to be
essential to Moral Agency, Virtue and Vice, Reward and Pun-
ishment, Praise and Blame. By Jonathan Edwards, A.M.,
Pastor of the Church in Stockbridge. Rom. ix. 16: It is not
of him that willeth. Boston, N. E. Printed and sold by 8.
Kneeland, in Queen-st. 1754.

t Dupald Stewart's Dissertation on the Progress of Philoso-
phy, 2C8. 1820. 4to.

X Ed. Rev. L. p. 131.

York Society Library — records a remark of
Hamilton on this book. '"The conversation led
to the question whether he had ever read the
work of Edwards on the Will ? He told me he
had. I then asked him what he thought of it.
He replied, that he presumed nothing ever came
from the human mind more in proof that man
was a reasoning animal. It is unrelaxed logical
statement throughout — from the first page to the
last a consecutive series of arguments, the only
digression from the main propositions being quali-
fications of the sense, expressed in the same brief,
rigid style. Its chief aim is to maintain a point
of Calvinism against the attacks and tenets of the
Arminians."

On the death of Burr, the President of Prince-
ton College, in 1757, Edwards was chosen to
succeed him. Burr was the father of the cele-
brated and unscrupulous Aaron Burr, and the
son-in-law of Edwards; so that the maternal
grandfather of the unhappy politician was the
exemplary divine. Burr, with little of his
morality, may have inherited a great deal of his
subtlety.

Edwards's letter to the Trustees, dated Stock-
bridge, Oct. 19th, when he meditated acceptance of
the post, enters curiously into the physiology of
his condition : — " I have a constitution in many
respects peculiarly unhappy, attended with flaccid
solids, vapid, sizy, and scarce fluids, and a low
tide of spirits, often occasioning a kind of childish
weakness and contemptibleness of speech, pre-
sence, and demeanor, with a disagreeable dulness
and stiffness, much unfitting me for conversation,
but more especially for the government of a col-
lege." He had, up to this time, for many years
spent fourteen hours a day in study. Yet, with a
feeble frame from childhood, by temperance and
method, he could endure these labors, and find
himself, at the age of fifty-four, " as well able to
bear the closest study," he says, " as I was thirty
years ago." It is, perhaps, difficult under these
circumstances to determine whether he was sus-
tained or worn out by literature. The occupa-
tion in his studj', which "swallowed up his mind,"
was, he tells us in the same sentence, "the chief
entertainment and delight of his life." The
enjoyments of the scholar, if they caused, also
compensated the unpleasant dyspeptic symptoms
which the philosopher somewhat pedantically
recounted.

In January, 1758, Edwards was installed at
Princeton. In the same month his father died,
at the venerable age of eighty-nine. The small-
pox then prevailing in the vicinity, Edwards was
inoculated, a course for which he took not only
the advice of his physician but the consent of his
college corporation. A fever set in, in conse-
quence of this act of precaution, which caused
his death in his fifty-fifth year, March 22, 1758.
His daughter, Mrs. Burr, died suddenly about a
fortnight after, and his wife in October of the
same year.

Edwards left a family of ten children, one of
whom, bearing his father's name, became a Doctor
of Divinity and President of Union College.

His second son, Pierrepont, was Judge of the
United States Court for the District of Connec-
ticut. He died at Bridgeport in 1826, at the age
of 76. One of his sons became Governor of Con-

CHARLES CHAITNCY-

95

neoticut, another is the Hon. Ogden Edwards of
New York.

The tributes to Edwards's powers of mind and
devout life, in addition to those we have quoted,
by Chalmers Robert Hall, Mackintosh, Isaac
Taylor, and others, leave nothing unsaid, in the
way of eulogy, of his metaphysical ability.* His
practical devotional style was, while argumenta-
tive, warm and affectionate, dwelling on the elevat-
ed poetry of the scriptures. Dr. Alexander has
described his character as a preacher. " He was
commanding as a pulpit teacher, not for grace of
person ; he was slender and shy ; not for elocution ;
his voice was thin and weak; for any trick of
style; no man more disdained and trampled on it:
— but from his immense preparation, long fore-
thought, sedulous writing of every word, touch-
ing earnestness and holy life. He was not C man
of company ; he seldom visited his hearers. Yet
there was no man whose mental power, was
greater. Common consent set him at the head
of his profession. Even in a time of raptures and
fiery excitement he lost no influence. The inci-
dent is familiar of his being called on a sudden to
take the place of Whitefield, the darling of the
people, who failed to appear when a multitude
were gathered to hear him. Edwards, unknown
to most in person, with unfeigned reluctance, such
as a vainer man might feel, rose before a disap-
pointed assembly and proceeded with feeble man-
ner to read from his manuscript. In a little time
the audience was hushed ; but this was not all.
Before they were aware, they were attentive and
soon enchained. As was then common, one and
another in the outskirts would arise and stand ;
numbers arose and stood; they came forward,
they pressed upon the centre ; the whole assembly
rose; and before he c included sobs burst from the
convulsed throng. It was the power of fearful
argument. The sermon is known to be in his
wprks."t

Edwards, in most of his writing, beyond exact-
ness, pail little attention to style; and judging by
the anecdote related by his eldest son, that his
acquaintance with Richardson's novel of Sir
Charles Grandison, about the time of his leaving
Northampton, led him to think of its amendment,}:
he must have been, in early life, unacquainted with
the best English models.

The works of President Edwards were collected
in ten volumes in New York in 1820. The first
is occupied by a Life, written by Sereno E.
D wight, which includes the diaries; the Treatises
on the Will and the Affections form portions of
separate volumes; there are several series of dis-
courses, doctrinal and practical, and the tenth
volume is taken up with Edwards's Memoirs of the
Missionary Brainerd, which was first published
in 1749.

* They are enumerated by Dr. Samuel Miller in his life of
Edward!, In Sparks's Biog., vol. viii. of the first series, 171-1S7.
The reference to Chalmers is his Christian and Civic Economy
of Large Towns, i. 31S-822. To Robert Hall, his Works, iii. 4,
65, 79. To Mackintosh, his Memoirs, i. 22, and Progress of
Ethical Philosophy, 188. Isaac Tavlor prefixed an "Essay on
the application of Abstract Reasoning to the Christian Doc-
trines,'1 to an edition of the Treatise on the Will.

t MS. Centennial Discourse at the College of New Jersey, by
the Bev. James W. Alexander. The text of Edwards's sermon
was Dent, xxxii. 82. It is the fifteenth sermon of thn fourth
vol. of the New York edition of his works of 1844, p. 313.

% Life by Dwight, 601.

CHARLES CHATJNCT.
Charles Chattnct, a great-grandson of Charles
Chauncy, the second president of Harvard College,
was born in Boston, on the first day of the year
1705. At the age of seven he lost his father, a
merchant of Boston, and son of the Rev. Isaac
Chauncy. He entered Harvard at the early age
of twelve, and was graduated with high honor in
1721. In 1727, he was ordained a colleague with
the Rev. Mr. Foxcroft, in the pastoral charge of
the first church in his native town — a connexion
which continued for forty years, until the death
of Mr. Foxcroft, after which he remained in sole
charge of the congregation for ten years. He
was then assisted by the Rev. John Clarke, until
his death, on the tenth of February, 1787. Dr.
Chauncy enjoyed a great reputation as a scholar
and theological writer.

The straightforward tendency of his mind, and
his great dislike of anything tending to parade
or affectation, combined with his aversion to
Whitefield and the French school of preaching,
led him to adopt a studied plainness in the com-
position and delivery of his sermons.* He was
wont to say he besought God that he might never
be an orator, on which a wit remarked that his
prayer had been fully granted.t His strango
want of appreciation of poetry, shown by his ex-
pressed wish that some one would translate Para-
dise Lost into prose, that he might understand it, f
shows that he had little sympathy with imagina-
tive or rhetorical effort. His voice was feeble,
and his delivery quiet. He was uncompromising
in his exposure and denunciation of every depar-
ture from the strict rules of integrity, either by
public bodies or by private individuals, his own
affairs being regulated with the utmost exactness.
"During the period," says Otis, "that some great
losses were experienced by the fluctuation of
paper money, he preached the election sermon, in
1747, before the governor and legislature; on
which occasion, he spoke in very plain terms of
their duty, as honest men and legislators, and
said, that if their acts were unjust, they would
one day be called upon to answer for them. The
discourse gave some dissatisfaction, and a dis-
cussion arose whether it should be printed. To
a person who came to tell him of this difficulty,
he answered, 'It shall be printed, whether the
General Court print it or not ; and do you, sir,
say from me, that if I wanted to initiate and in-
struct a person into all kinds of iniquity and
double-dealing, I would send him to our General
Court ! ' " It was " printed by Order of the Ho-
norable House of Representatives," with a motto
on the title from Deuteronomy xvi. 20 — " That
which is altogether just shalt thou follow." He
was an active controversialist, publishing in 1742
and 1743 sermons On the Various Gifts of Mi-
nisters, On Enthusiasm, and on the Outpourings
of the Holy Ghost, directed against Whitefield.
These were followed by An Account of the
French Prophets, and Seasonable Thoughts on
the State of Religion in New England. In
the preparation of the last named work, which

* "As a preacher, he was plain to a degree which has becoma
nnfasliionablo in tho present age."— Funeral Sermon by tha
Rev. John Clarke, D.D.

f Sudor's Life of Otis, 149.

Jib.

96

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

forms an octavo volume, he travelled several hun-
dred miles to collect facts,* tending to show the
dangers of the appeals to excitement practised by
Whitefield and the revival school. In 1702 he
published a sermon on The Validity of Presby-
tarian Ordination ; in 1765 Twelve Sermons on
Seasonable and Important Subjects, the chief
of which was justification by faith ; in 1767,
Remarks on a Sermon of the Bishop of Landaff,
and in 1771, a complete view of Episcopacy, as
exhibited from the Fathers of the Christian
Church, until the close of the second century,
in which he endeavored to prove that that form
of government was not sanctioned by the usage
of the primitive church. With these views he
was, as might be expected, a participant in the
hotly waged controversy on the proposed intro-
duction of bishops into the colonies by the English
government, publishing in answer to Dr. Chan-
dler's " Appeal to the Public," on the Episcopal
side, An Appeal to the Public, answered in be-
half of Non-Episcopal Churches. Chandler an-
swered by "The Appeal Defended," Chauncy
responded, and Chandler again in turn replied.

Dr. Chauncy's printed sermons are in all about
sixty in number. His last works were The
Mystery hid from Ages, or the Salvation of all
Men, which he considered the most valuable of
his writmgSjt Dissertations upon the Benevolence
of the Deity, both printed in 1784, and a volume
on The Fall of Man, and its Consequences, which
appeared in 1785.

He took a warm interest in the success of the
American cause during the Revolution, and was
wont to say that if the national arms were in-
sufficient, angels would be sent to fight for the
cause of freedom.

THOMAS CHAXKLEY.
TnoMAS Chalki.et informs ns in the opening line
of his " Life, Labours, Travels, &c," that he was
" born on the third day of the third month, 1675,
in Southwark," London. He gives a touching
picture of the persecutions to which his sect of
Friends were exposed, even from their tender
years :

"When between eight and ten years of age, my
father and mother sent me near two miles to school,
to Richard Scoryer, in the suburbs of London. I
went mostly by myself to the school ; and many and
various were the exercises I went through, by beat-
ings and stonings along the streets, being distin-
guished to the people, by the badge of plainness
which my parents put upon me, of what profession
I was : divers telling me, " it was no more sin to kill
me than it was to kid a dog."

He relates his spiritual experiences at great
length, commencing with his tenth year. At the
age of twenty he was pressed on board a man-of-
war. He passed the night in the hold, having
nothing to lie upon but casks, and among wicked
men ; " and as we were shut up in darkness, so

* "I have been a circle of more tban tbree hundred nines, and
had, by this means, an opportunity of going through a great
number of towns in this and the neighbouring government of
Connecticut, and of having personal conversation with most
of the ministers, and many other gentlemen in. the country."
—Preface, xxix,

* Clarke's Funeral Sermon.

was their conversation dark and hellish." On
being asked, in the morning, " if he was willing
to serve his Majesty," he answerd, that he was
willing to serve him in his business, and according
to his conscience ; " but as for war and fighting,
Christ had forbid it in his excellent Sermon on
the Mount ; and for that reason I could not bear
arms nor be instrumental to destroy or kill men."
" Then," he continues,

" The lieutenant looked on me and on the people,
and said : ' Gentlemen, what shall we do with this
fellow ? Ho swears he will not fight.' The com-
mander of the vessel made answer: 'No, he will
neither swear nor fight.' Upon which they turned
me on shore. I was thankful that I was delivered
out of their hands ; and my tender parents were
glad to see me again."

At the expiration of his apprenticeship to his
father, of seven years, he " went to his calling,
and got a little money (a little being enough)
which I was made willing to spend freely in the
work and service of my great Master, Christ
Jesus." He was soon after " concerned " to travel
and preach about England, and after a few months
passed in this manner, and a brief return to his
calling, he " found himself engaged in the love of
the gospel, to visit friends in America." After a
long passage, he landed at the mouth of the
Patuxent river, in Maryland, in January, 1698.
Next followed a year of travel, during which he
visited New England and Virginia, where he
found an aged friend " who was ninety-two years
of age, and had then a daughter two years old."
A note informs us that he saw this vigorous vete-
ran, some time after, " weeding Indian corn with
a hoe, at the age of 106. He died a year after
having seen the child of his fourscore and ten
years married." After " several good and open
meetings in Virginia," friend Chalkley "found
himself clear of America," and returned to
England.

He soon after married Martha Betterton, he
being in his twenty-fourth and she in her twenty-
first year. As she " had an excellent gift of the
ministry given her," the step confirmed him the
more in his vocation of preacher, and after a
journey in Ireland, he decided to remove perma-
nently to America. Settling his wife in Phila-
delphia on his arrival, he visited Barbadoes, and
on his return, " went through Maryland and
visited friends in Virginia and North Carolina, to
the river Pamlico, where no travelling Friends
that ever I heard of, were before." He describes
an incident of his journey with great beauty :

" In going to and coming from this place, we lay
two nights in the woods, and I think I never slept
better in all my life. It was the eighth hour in the
evening, when I laid down on the ground, one night,
my saddle being my pillow, at the root of a tree;
and it was four o'clock in the morning when they
called me. When I awoke, I thought of good Jacob's
lodging he had on tho way to Padan Aram, when
he saw the holy visions of angels, with the ladder,
whose top reached to heaven. Very sweet was the
love of God to my soul that morning, and the dew
of the everlasting hills refreshed me : and I went on
my way praising the Lord, and magnifying the God
of my salvation."

After a horseback journey of about a thousand

AQUILA ROSE.

97

miles, in this manner, he passed a few months at
home, " following my business in order to the
maintenance of my family." He nest visited
Rhode Island, which he found in the midst of
troubles with the Indians, where he exhorted
Friends to maintain their non-resistance princi- !
pies, and says that those who did so were unrno-
lested by the savages.

" After thoroughly visiting friends in those
parts," he returned through Connecticut and Long
Island to Philadelphia, but was soon off again to
Maryland. He thus continued travelling about,
" rising early, and laying down late ; many days
riding forty, fifty, and sixty miles a day, which,"
he naively adds, " was very laborious, and hard
for my flesh to endure, being corpulent and heavy
from the twenty-seventh year of my age ;" with
occasional intervals of rest at home, until the
middle of the year 1707, when he again visited
Barbadoes, and sailing thence for England, was
shipwrecked on the coast of Ireland, but without
sustaining personal injury. Upon leaving Ireland,
he journeyed through Great Britain, and after a
visit to Holland and Germany, returned to Phila-
delphia.

On a subsequent voyage, from the Bermudas,
in consequence of a long continuance of calms,
the stock of provisions became scanty. The ves-
sel being consigned to Chalkley, and under his
care, the crew began to upbraid him for the
scarcity, and "tell dismal stories about eating one
another."

" To stop their murmuring," he says, " I told them
they should not need to cast lots, which was usual
in such cases, which of us should die first, for I
would freely offer up my life to do them good. One
said, l God bless you! I will not eat any of you.'
Another said, ' He would die before he would eat
any of me;' and so said several. I can truly say,
on that occasion, at that time, my life was not dear
to me, and that I was serious and ingenuous in my
proposition: and as I was leaning over the side of
the vessel, thoughtfully considering my proposal to
the company, and looking in my mind to Him that
made me, a very large dolphin came up towards
the top or surface of the water, and looked me in
the face; and I called the people to put a hook into
the sea, and take him, for here is one come to redeem
me (I said to them). And they put a hook into the
sea, and the fish readily took it, and they caught
him. He was longer than myself. I think he was
about six feet long, and the largest that ever I saw.
This plainly showed us that we ought not to distrust
the providence of the Almighty. The people were
quieted by this act of Providence, and murmured
no more. We caught enough to eat plentifully of
tdl we got into the capes of Delaware."

Chalkley's journal was continued to within a
few days of his death — an event which found him
occupied in the work of 'his itinerant ministry at
Tortola, one of the Friendly Islands. " Our
ancient worthy friend," as Israel Pemberton ten-
derly calls him, in the Testimony of the Monthly
Meeting prefixed to his journal, died after a few
days' illness, of a fever, in the month of October,
1749.

The journal, of which we have endeavored to
convey a fair idea to our readers, was published
with a collection of the author's writings, in Phi-
ladelphia, in 1747. A reprint, in an octavo

vol. i. — 7

volume of 556 pages, appeared at New York, in
1808. His works form about one third of its con-
tents. They consist of a series of religious tracts,
the chief of which are entitled : God's Great
Love unto Mankind through Jesus Christ our
Lord ; A Loving Invitation to Young and Old,
in Holland and elsewhere, to seek and love Al-
mighty God, and to prepare in time for their
Eternal Welfare ; Observations on Christ's
Sermon on the Mount ; Christ's Kingdom
Exalted ; and Youth Persuaded to Obedience,
Gratitude, and Honor to God and their Parents.
To these are joined a few productions of a con-
troversial nature ; but even these, as their titles
show, are pervaded by the usual kindly spirit of
their writer.*

He introduced the first named of these in a few
brief but happily penned sentences :

"In sincerity and unfeigned love, both to God and
man, were these lines penned. I desire thee to pe-
ruse them in the same love, and then, peradventure,
thou mayest find some 6\veetness in them. Expect
not learned phrases, or florid expressions ; for many
times heavenly matter is hid in mean sentences, or
wrapped up in mean expressions. It sometimes
pleases God to reveal the mysteries of his kingdom
(through the grace of his son our Lord Jesus Christ,)
to babes and sucklings; and he oftentimes ordains
praise out of their mouths; one of which, reader, I
desire thou mayest be. My intent in writing these
sheets is that they, through the help of God's graee
and the good spirit of Christ, may stir up true love
in thee ; first to God and Christ, and then to man ;
so thou wilt be fit to be espoused to him, who is
altogether lovely, (that is Christ) which is the desire
of him who is thy friend, more in heart than word,

" T. Chalkley."

By a bequest in his will, the good Quaker
founded the Library of the Four Monthly Meet-
ings of Friends at Philadelphia.

AQUILA EOSE.
Benjamin Franklin narrates, in his Autobiogra-
phy, that on his first visit to Samuel Keimer, the
printer, he found him "composing an Elegy on
Aquila Rose, an ingenious young man, of excel-
lent character, much respected in the town, se-
cretary to the Assembly, and a pretty poet." This
brief sentence comprises nearly all that is known
of the person spoken of beyond the few facts to
be gleaned from his own writings, and the com-
mendatory verses of a few friends, both com-
prised in a pamphlet of 56 pages, entitled, Poems
on several occasions, by Aquila Rose: to which
are prefixed, some other pieces writ to him, and to
his memory after his decease. Collected and pub-
lished by his son, Joseph Rose, of Philadelphia.
Philadelphia: printed at the New Printing
Office, near the Market. 1740.

Joseph Rose was probably " the son of Aquila
Rose," whom Franklin took as an apprentice, as
stated in his Autobiography.

The pamphlet contains the following

ADVEETISEMENT.

The good reception the poetical manuscript
writings of my deceased father, Aquila Rose, have

* Some Truly Tender Scruples of Conscience, about that
form of prayer called the Common Prayer, and Forcing a
Maintenance not warrantable from the Holy Scripture, for a
Minister of the Gospel.

98

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

met with in this province, from men of wit and
taste, with a desire of some of these to see them
printed, induced me to collect what I could. But
many of his best pieces were lent out after his
decease, by my mother, to persons who have forgot
to return them : And perhaps the publishing these
few will put them in mind of sending them to me.

Joseph Rose.

This is followed by an introductory poem " to
the Memory of Aquila Rose, Deceas'd," which in-
forms us that,

Albion his birth, his learning Albion gave;

To manhood grown, lie cross'd the stormy wave;

More Arts, and Nature's wond'rous ways to find,

Illuminate and fortify his mind:

And to divert his eyes from cross affairs:

For love disastrous fiU'd his breast with cares.

In Britain, he would say, he once was bless'd,

And all the jo}~s of love and life possess'd :

But some strange power, who envied his repose,

Chang'd his enjoyments to combining woes;

Forc'd him to quit his former peaceful way,

And prove his fortune o'er a foamy sea.

Dear native land, he sadly said, farewell,

And those soft shades where love and Silvia dwell:

Blow soft, ye gales, and waft me from the shore,

I fly from love, and Silvia see no more.

Long, then, the wand'rer sail'd from land to land,

To servile business of rough seas constraint :

Yet not the less, where'er their vessel steer'd,

Strangers admir'd him, as his mates rever'd.

Rose well some post of eminence could grace,

Who, clad in tar, supplies a sailor's place.

********

He travels till our western tract he trode,
Which, as he found a home, here made his last
abode.

He has a fit of sickness on his arrival, and is,
consequently, somewhat dispirited, but cheerful-
ness returns with health.

Then, lively, from his languid bed he rose,
Free'd of his pang3 and melancholy woes;
Industrious arts his active hands could use;
He would the bread of slothful means refuse,
Them to his proper livelihood he join'd,
Where leaden speech unloads the lab' ring mind,
And graven words to distant ages tell
What various things in times foregone befell:
As Mercury cuts through the yielding sky,
So thro' the work his nimble ringers fly:
His novel skill spectators thronging drew,
Who haste the swift compositor to view;
Not men alone, but maids of softer air
And nicer fancies, to the room repair:
Pleas'd with such mild impediments he frame?,
As they request, their dear enchanting names,
To grace a book, or feast a lover's eye,
Or tell companions of their fancied joy.
With complaisance he still dismiss'd the train,
None ever sought his courtesy in vain :
Each transient fair one took her name away,
But thee, Maria — 'Twas thy doom to st;iy ;
'Twas soon revers'd, the work of his quick hand,
Short did thy name so gaily printed 6tand ;
Both hearts consent new letters to compose,
And give to thine the pleasing name of Rose.

Now here the bard by his own choice was ty'd, '
(Renouncing further rambling) to a bride;
Albion for Pennsylvania he resigns,
And now no more at Silvia's loss repines ;

Next —

He counsels with himself what means to use,
To live with credit, and what baits refuse ;
First, clerk to our Provincial Senate rais'd,
He found, besides the stipend, he was praised.

And now a greater task he takes in hand,
Which none but true proprietors understand.
What pity 'tis they seldom live to taste
The fruits of those pure spirits that they waste 1
For works so hard and tedious, was it known
A poet e'er did poetry disown i
Or for a distant livelihood give o'er
Those instant pleasures that he felt before ?
Yet so Aquila did — the rustic toil,
To make firm landings on a muddy soil,
Erect a ferry over Schuylkil's stream,
A benefit to thousands — death to him 1

Look on the stream as it pacific flows,

Which, largely bending, more the prospect shows,

A summer sight, none lovelier can be seen,

And on the shore a varied growth of green :

The poplars high, erect their stately heads,

The tawny water-beach more widely spreads ;

The linden strong in breadth and height, is there,

With mulberry-leaves — And trees with golden hair,

These of a smaller stem, like filberds seem,

But flatter-leaf 'd, and always love the stream.

Here grows the jagged birch ; and elm, whose

leaves
With sides ill-pair'd the observing eye perceives ;
Yet nobly tall and great, it yields a shade
In which cool arbours might be fitly made :
Such is the linden, such the beech above,
Each ik itself contains a little grove.
Here hickories, and oaks, and ashes rise,
All diff 'ring, but much more in use than size ;
And walnuts, with their yellow bitter dyes.
The fragrant sassafras enjoys a place ;
And crabs, whose thorns their scented blossoms

grace :
Parsimmons vex the ground, so thick the}' shoot,
But pleasant is their late autumnal fruit.
Tedious to name the shrubby kinds below,
That mingled for defence, in clusters grow.
Two plants remain, with flow'rs unlike, both fair.
And both deserve th' ingenious florist's care;
The wild althca, red, and white, and cream,
And scarlet cardinal, with dazzling gleam:
These tempt the humming bird, whose misty wings
Support him as he sucks the flow'r and sings ;
Low is his voice, and simple notes but few ;
And oft his little body's lost to view ;
When he the creeper's blossom tries to drain,
The blossom will his beak and tail contain ;
But his gay-colored plumage forms a show
As mixt and vivid as the sky's fair bow.

So great variety no tract can boast,
Of like dimensions, as this narrow coast.
The botanist might here find exercise ;
And every curious man regale his eyes.
The grass shines glist'ning of a lively green :
And northward hence the Quarry-hill is seen,
Whose top of late with verd'rous pines is crown'd ;
With forest trees of various kinds around.

And often here, the clearness of the stream
And cover'd gravel-banks, invite to swim:
But anglers most their frequent visits pay,
To toss old-wives, and chubs, and perch to day ;
And sometimes find the tasteful trout their prey.
Others with greater pains their big hooks bait;
But for the nobler bite they seldom wait;
The time to know their good success adjourn,
And fail not by next morning to return ;

SAMUEL KEIMER.

99

Then, hook'd, the weighty rock-fish dvaw to shore
By lines to bushes ty'd, or those they moor.

******
He saw his causeways firm above the waves,
And nigh the deeps unless a storm outbraves ;
When gusts unusual, strong with wind and rain,
Swell'd Schuylkil's waters o'er the humble plain,
Sent hurryiDg all the moveables afloat,
And drove afar, the needful'st thing, the boat.

'Twas then, that wading thro' the chilling flood,
A cold ill humour mingled with his blood.

******
Physicians try'd their skill, his head relieved,
And his lost appetite to strength retriev'd :
But all was flatt'ry — so the lamp decays,
And near its exit gives an ardent blaze.

From the title to another poem to the memory
of the author in the same collection by Elias
Bockett, we learn that Rose died on the twenty-
second of August,* 1723, at the age of twenty-
eight. The verses collected by his son occupy
twenty-six moderate-sized pages only. They
display skill and ease in versification : — ■

TO HIS COMPANION AT SEA.

Debarr'd, my friend, of all the joys
The land, and charming sex can give,

Nor wind, nor wave, our peace destroys ;
We'll laugh, and drink, and nobly live.

The gen'rous wine imparts a heat
To raise and quicken every sense.

No thoughts of death our bliss defeat,
Nor steal away our innocence.

Secure, should earth in ruins lie,

Should seas and skies in rage combine;

Unmov'd, all dangers we'll defie,

And feast our souls with gen'rous wine.

For, should a fear each sense possess,

Of chilly death and endless fate,
Our sorrow ne'er can make it less;

But wine alone can dissipate.

Then fill the glass; nay, fill a bowl,
And fill it up with sparkling wine;

It shall the strongest grief controul,
And make soft wit with pleasure join.

To this we may add a copy of verses, written
in 1720, proving the antiquity of the now preva-
lent American custom of New Year's Carriers'
Addresses : —

PIECE, WROTE BY HIM FOR TnE BOYS WnO CARRIED OUT THE
WEEKLY NEWS-PAPERS TO THEIR MASTEP.'b CUSTOMERS IN
PHILADELPHIA; TO WHOM COMMONLY, EVERY NEW YEAR'S
DAY, THEY PRESENT VERSES OF THIS KIND.

Full fifty times have roul'd their changes on.

And all the year's transactions now are done;

Full fifty times I've trod, with eager haste,

To bring you weekly news of all things past.

Some grateful thing is due for such a task,

Tho' modesty itself forbids to ask ;

& silver thought, express'd in ill-shap'd ore,

Is all I wish ; nor would I ask for more.

To grace our work, swift Mere'ry stands in view;

I've been a Living Mere'ry still to you.

Tho' ships and tiresome posts advices bring,

Till we impress it, 'tis no current thing.

C n may write, but B d's art alone

* Keimer gives another date. Antiquaries must choose
between them.

Distributes news to all th' expecting town.
How far remov'd is this our western shore,
From those dear lands our fathers knew before;
Yet our bold ships the raging ocean dare,
And bring us constant news of actions there.
Quick to your hands the fresh advices come,
From England, Sweden, France, and ancient Rome.
What Spain intends against the barbarous Moors,
Or Russian armies on the Swedish shores.
What awful hand pestiferous judgments bears,
And lays the sad Marseilles in death and tears.
From George alone what peace and plenty spring,
The greatest statesman and the greatest king.
Long may he live, to us a blessing giv'n,
Till he shall change his crown for that of heav'n.
The happy day, Dear Sir, appears ag'in,
When human nature lodg'd a God within.
The angel now was heard amongst the swains ;
A God resounds from all the distant plains:
O'erjoyed they haste, and left their fleecy care,
Found the blest Child, and knew the God was

there.
Yet whilst, with gen'rous breath, you hail the day,
And, like the shepherds, sacred homage pay,
Let gen'rous thought some kindly grace infuse,
To him that brings, with careful speed, your News.

SAMUEL KEIMER.
WnEN" Franklin first arrived in Philadelphia he
was taken, it will be remembered, by old Mr.
William Bradford, to the office of Keimer, then
just commencing business, and engaged npon a
performance of his own, which he literally com-
posed at the stand, setting up the types as the
ideas came to his mind. This was an Elegy on
the young printer, Aquila Rose, of whom we have
just given some account; and which it was the
lot of Benjamin Franklin to print off when its
author had finished it. The Elegy has long since
become a great literary curiosity, and it cost us
some pains to find any reprint of it; but our
intention to do justice to the literary associates
of Franklin was at last assisted by a reference to
Hazard's Register of Pennsylvania, where we
found the woful ballad reproduced from its ori-
ginal hand-bill form of the year 1723, after a
sleep of more than a hundred years, in 1828.*
As it is curious as a quaint specimen of printing
in the Franklin connexion, besides being a picture
of the times, it should be mentioned that it was
" ornamented with the usual symbols of death —
the head and bones and hour-glass," and that it
was " printed in the High-street," for the price
of twopence. The italics and capitals are, it
strikes us at this day, somewhat capricious. We
have preserved them as they occur.

Keimer, coming from the old world, was a cha-
racter. He had been, Franklin tells us, " one of
the French prophets, and could act their enthu-
siastic agitations," a stock in trade upon which
he was disposed to set up in America as the
evangelist of a new religion. Franklin was in
the habit of arguing with him on the Socratic
method, and was so successful that he gained his
respect, and an invitation to join him in the
partnership of the new doctrines. What they
were, the world has never fully learned. It is
only known from the Autobiography that " Keimer
wore his beard at full length, because somewhere

* Hazard's PennB. Reg., Nov. 1828, 268.

100

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

in the Mosaic law it is said, Thou sJialt not mar
the corners of thy heard. He likewise kept the
seventh da)' Sabbath ; and these two points were
essential with him." His Socratic friend from
Massachusetts saw the weakness of his associate,
and ingeniously proposed, as an addition, absti-
nence from animal food, a trial of which, in a
short time, broke down both the man and his
system.

Keimer, after awhile, left for the West Indies,
where we hear of him in 1734 as the editor of
the Barbadoes Gazette, in which capacity he
found himself in the society of a very gentle-
manly company of people, who sometimes for-
got to pay the printer,* and, somewhat too
recklessly ventilating his opinions, was bound
over to keep the peace .for sis months for pub-
lishing a libel. A collection of papers from this
journal was, in 1741, printed in London, with
the title, C'aribbcana, in two quarto volumes,
arranged in a stiff imitation of the Tatler. There
is now and then a tolerable passage, but the mass
is a lamentable series of stale, unimportant politics,
slightly alleviated by compliments to reigning
toasts and beauties, who can no longer by their
presence give zest to the dulness of their admirers.
This is the last we see of Keimer; but his ghost
still walks the earth in vagrant and unsettled
members of his craft, equally ready to print other
people's ideas and their own, quite as capable of
handling the pen as the composing stick, and
lucky if their crude tendencies to spiritualism are
restrained by as exacting a corporeal system.

* His complaint on one of these occasions has been pre-
served by Thomas in the History of Printing (ii. JJS?).

Fro:n the Barbadoes Gazelle of .May 4. I7.M.

To those won' d-be-thought Gentlemen, icho have long taken
this paper, and never paid for it, and seem never to design
to pay for it.

The Sorrowful Lamentation of Samuel Keimer, Printer of the

Barbadoes Gazette.
What a pity it is that some modern bravadoes,
Who dub themselves gentlemen here in Barbadoes,
Should time after time, run in debt to their printer,
And care not to pay him in Summer or Winter!
A saint by the hairs of his beard, had he got 'em.
Might be tempted to swear [instead of P — s rot 'em.]
He ne'er found before, such a parcel of wretches,
With their flams, and such shuffles, put offs and odd fetches.
If this is their honesty, that be their honour,
Amendment seize one ; for the last, — fie upon her.
In Penn's wooden country, type feels no disaster.
Their printer is rich and is made their Post Master;*
His father.f a printer, is paid for his work,
And wallows in plenty just now at New York,
Tho' quite past his labour, and old as my grannum,
The government pays him pounds sixty per annum.
In Maryland's province, as well as Virginia,
To justice and honour, I am. sirs, to win ye,
Their printer} I'm sure can make it appear,
Each province allows two hundred a year,
By laws they have made for Typogrnph's use,
He's paid 50 thousand weight country produce.
And if you enquire but at South Carolina,§
[Oh, methinks in that name there is something divine, ah!]
Like patriots they've done what to honour redounds,
They gave him (their currency) 50 score pounds.
E'en type at Jamaica, our island's reproach,
Is able to ride in ber chariot or coach.
But alas your poor type prints no figures like Nullo,
Curs'd, cheat'd, abus'd by each pitiful fellow.
Tho' working like slave, with zeal and true courage,
He can scarce get as yet ev'n salt to bis porridge.
The reason is plain ; — those act by just rules —
But here knaves have bit him, ail Mac-abite fools.

* Andrew Bradford, of Phila.

t William Bradford, of New York.

i William Parks, who printed for both colonies.

§ Lewis Timothy then printed for the Government of South Carolina.

AN ELEGY,

On the much Lamented DEATH of the INGENIOUS
and WELL-BELOVED

AQUILA ROSE,

CLERK to the Honourable Assembly at Philadel-
phia, who died the U4th of the 4th month, 1723.
Aged 28.

What Mournful Accents thus accost mine Ear,
What doleful ecchoes hourly thus appear?
What Sighs from melting Hearts proclaim aloud,
The Solemn Mourning of this numerous Crowd?
In Sable CHARACTERS the Kews is Read,
Our Rose is withered and our Eagle's fled
In that our dear Aquila Rose is dead,
Cropt in the Blooming of his precious Youth 1
Who can forbear to weep at such a Truth!

Assist ye Philadelphia!™ with Consent,
And join with me to give our Sorrows Vent,
That having wept till Tears shall trickling glide,
Like Streams to Delaware from Schuylkil bide,
My painful Muse being ens'd may then rehearse,
Between each Sob, in Elegiack Verse, •

(And in soft Numbers warble forth Desire,)
To breath his Worth, warm'd with Angelic Fire.

But why do my ambitious Thoughts presume
To span the glorious Sun, or grasp the Moon ;
The Task confounds ! — But yet 1 dare begin
To cast my Mite an humble Off'ring in,
That noble Bards in strains more lofty, nuty
Conjoiu'd, our great and heavy Loss display,
To distant Climes where his Great Worth was

known,
That they to us may eccho back a Groan.
For there are bright Youths, who when they hear
The dismal Tydings, so his Worth revere,
In Lrfelting florid Strains will then rehearse
The Praise of Him who constitutes our Verse.

Belov'd he was by most, his very Name,
Doth with deep Silence his great Worth proclaim
As if Kind Heaven had Secrets to disclose,
By Royal Terms of Eagle and a Rose,
The Arms most near akin to England's Crown
Each Royal Emblem this sweet Truth does own,
And lively noble Images affords,
One's Queen of Flowers, the Other King of Birds.

His Qualities, wdl next bespeak his Fame,
A Lovely POET, whose sweet fragrant Name,
Will last till circling Years shall cease to be,
And sink in vast profound Eternity.
His flowing Members and his lofty Rhime,
Have breath'd, and spoke his Thoughts, thro' every

Line,
So warm'd my Soul (and oft inspired my Tongae,)
As if a Cherub or a Seraph sung.

A gen'rous Mind tow'rds all his Friends he bore,
Scarce one he lost, but daily numb'red more.
Some say he'd Foes; his Foes I never knew;
Who spoke ill of him, mostly spoke untrue.
Courteous, and humble, pleasant, just and wise,
No Affectation vain did in him rise.
Sincere and plain, (I make not any Doubt)
He was the same Within Side as Without.
He loved plain Truth, but hated formal Cant
In those who Truth and Honesty did want.
A curious Artist at his Business, he
Could Think, and Speak, Compose, Correct so free,
To make a Dead man speak, or Blind to see.

Of different learned Tongues, he somewhat knew.
The French, the Latin, Greek and Hebrew too.
Firm to his Vows, a tender Husband prov'd
And Father-like, his Princely Babe he Iov'd.

Our Wise and Great Vice Roy did him respect,
Our learned Mayor (I know) DID him affect;
Our grave Assembly voted him most fit,

GEORGE WEBB.

101

Their wise Debates in Writing to commit,

By which great Honour they did clearly shew,

To Write, a; well as Print, he fully knew,

And what was still more Great, and worthy Note,

(It's said) they gave him too a Casting Vote.

But stop my Muse, and give thy Sorrows vent,
Such Sorrows which in Hearts of Friends are pent,
Search deep for Sighs and Groans in Nature's

Store,
Then weep so long, till thou canst weep no more,
Next Summer all thy Strength, and others call,
To tell his Death, and solemn Funeral.

While on his Death-Bed, oft, Dear Lord, he cry'd,
He sang, and sweetly like a Lamb he dy'd.
His Corps attended was by Friends so toon
From Seven at Morn, till One a-clock at Soon,
By Master-Printers carried towards his Grave,
Our City Printer such an Honour gave.
A Worthy Merchant did the Widow lead,
And then both mounted on a stately steed, %
Next Preachers, Common Council, Aldermen,
A Judge and Sheriff' grae'd the solemn Train,
Nor fail'd our Treasurer, in respect to come,
Nor staid the Keeper of the ROLLS at home,
Our aged Post Master here now appears,
Who had not walked so far for twice Twelve Years,
With Merchants, Shopkeepers, the Young and Old,
A numerous Throng not very easy told,
The Keeper of the SEAL did on Him wait,
Thus was he carry'd like a King, in State,
And what still adds a further Lustre to't,
Some ro le well mounted, others walk'd afoot,
Church-Folks, Dissenters, here with one Accord,
Their kind Attendance readily afford,
To shew their Love, each differing Sect agree
To grace his Fun'ral with their Company,
And whab was yet more grateful. People cry'd
Belo»d h? liv'd, See how belov'd he dy'd.

When to the crowded Meeting he was bore,
I wept so long till I could weep no more,
While biaideoas LIGHTFOOT did, like Noah's

Dove,
Sweetly display God's Universal Love ;
His Words like Balm (or Drops of Hoiey) laid,
To Ileal those Wounds Grief in my Heart had made.
Three other Preachers did their Task fulfil,
The Loving Chalklcu and the Lowly Hill,
The famous Lanqdale did the Sermons end
For this our highly honour'd, worthy Friend.
And now with Joy, with holy joy we'll leave,
His Body resting in his peaceful Grave,
His Soul, in the blest Arms of ONE above.
Whose brightest Character is that of LOVE.
A GOD that's slow to mark, what's done amiss!
Who mould not serve so d:ar a God as this?
In whose kind, gracious lovely arms we'll leave
him;
For HE who bought him, has most Right to have
him.

GEOEGE WEBB

Is another of Franklin's early literary associates
in Philadelphia, whose characters live in the
pages of the Autobiography. Franklin found him,
on his return from England, a youth of eighteen,
apprenticed to his former master Keimer, who
had "bought his time" for four years. Webb
was a runaway adventurer from England, and
gave this account of himself, as Franklin has re-
lated it: — ■" That he was born in Gloucester, edu-
cated at a grammar-school, and had been distin-
guished among the scholars for some apparent
superiority in performing his part when they ex-
hibited plajs ; belonged to the Wits' Club there,

and had written some pieces in prose and verse,
which were printed in the Gloucester newspapers.
Thence was sent to Oxford ; there he continued
about a year, but not well satisfied ; wishing, of
all things, to see London, and become a player.
At length, receiving his quarterly allowance of
fifteen guineas, instead of discharging his debts,
he went out of town, hid his gown in a furze-
bush, and walked to London : where, having no
friend to advise him, he fell into bad compair;
soon spent his guineas, found no means of being
introduced among the players, grew necessitous,
pawned his clothes, and wanted bread. Walking
the street very hungry, and not knowing what to
do with himself, a crimp's bill was put into his
hand, offering immediate entertainment and en-
couragement to such as would bind themselves to
serve in America. He went directly, signed the
indentures, was put into the ship and came over ;
never writing a line to his friends to acquaint
them what was become of him. He was lively,
witty, good-natured, and a pleasant companion ;
but idle, thoughtless, and imprudent to the last
degree."

Webb was afterwards enabled to raise himself
out of his apprenticeship into a partnership with
Keimer, and he became a member of Franklin's
conversation club, the Junto; and in 1731 per-
petrated a copy of verses, entitled Batchelors1
Hall, descriptive of a place of entertainment in
the suburbs, which was published with the honor-
able title of " A Poem," with a motto from Cicero
on the title-page, and two complimentary effu-
sions in verse by J. Brientnall and J. Taylor, who
showed themselves hopeful of the American muse
on the occasion.

Taylor at the time kept a mathematical school
in the city, and published an almanac,* which
preceded Franklin's. He published in 172S a
poetical piece entitled Pennsylvania. He was
alive in 1736, in an extreme old age.

What further became of Webb we know not.
We are content with this look at him through
the Franklin microscope.

BATCITELOES' BALL: A POEM.

0 spring, thou fairest season of the year,

How lovely soft, how sweet dost thou appear !

What pleasing landskips meet the gazing eye!

How beauteous nature does with nature vie:

Gay scenes around the fancy does invite,

And universal beauty prompts to write.

But chiefly that proud Dome on Delaware's stream,

Of this my humble song the nobler theme,

Claims all the tribute of these rural lays,

And tunes e'en my harsh voice to sing its praise.

Say, goddess, tell me, for to thee is known,
What is, what was, and what shall e'er be done ;

* The first book printed in Pennsylvania was " An Almanac
for the Tear of the Christian Account 16S7. By Daniel Leeds,
Student, in Agriculture. Printed and sold by William Brad-
ford, near Philadelphia, in Pennsylvania, pro anno 1<>S7."
Leeds left the colony not Ion*; after in dudgeon with the
Quakers, as we may infer from his pamphlet published by
Bradford, in New York, in 1699 : " A Trumpet sounded out of
the Wilderness of America, which may serve as a warning to
the government and people of England to beware of Quaker-
ism ; wherein is shown how in Pennsylvania and thereaway,
where they have the government in their own hands, they
hire and encourage men to tight ; and bow they persecute,
fine, and imprison, and take away goods for conscience' sake."
— Fisher's Early Poets, Pa.

102

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Why stands this dome erected on the plain?
For pleasure was it built, or else for gain ?
For midnight revels was it ever thought,
Shall impious doctrines ever here be taught?
Or else for nobler purposes design'd,
To cheer and cultivate the mind,
With mutual love each glowing breast inspire,
Or cherish friendship's now degenerate fire.
Say, goddess, say, do thou the truth reveal,
Say, what was the design, if good or ill?

Fired with the business of the noisy town,

The weary Batchelors their cares disown ;

For this loved seat they all at once prepare,

And long to breathe the sweets of country air ;

On nobler thoughts their active minds employ,

And a select variety enjoy.

'Tis not a revel, or lascivious night,

That to this hall the Batchelors invite ;

Much less shall impious doctrines here be taught,

Blush ye accusers at the very thought :

For other, O far other ends designed,

To mend the heart, and cultivate the mind.

Mysterious nature here unveil'd shall be,

And knotty points of deep philosophy ;

Whatever wonders undiscover'd are,

Deep hid in earth, or flo:itiug high in air,

Though in the darkest womb of night involv'd,

Shall by the curious searcher here be solv'd.

Close to the dome a garden shall be join'd,

A fit employment for a studious mind :

In our vast woods whatever samples grow,

Whose virtues none, or none but Indians know,

Within the confines of this garden brought,

To rise with added lustre shall be taught ;

Then cull'd with judgment each shall yield its juice,

Saliferous balsam to the sick man's use :

A longer date of life mankind shall boast,

And death shall mourn her ancient empire lost.

But yet sometimes the all-inspiring bowl

To laughter shall provoke and cheer the soul ;

The jocund tale to humor shall invite,

And dedicate to wit a jovial night.

Not the false wit the cheated world admires.

The mirth of sailors, or of country squires ;

Nor the gay punster's, whose quick sense affords

Nought but a miserable play on words ;

Nor the grave quidnunc1 a, whose inquiring head

With musty scraps of journals must be fed :

But condescending, genuine, apt, and fit,

Good nature is the parent of true wit;

Though gay, not loose; though learned, yet still

clear ;
Though bold, yet modest; human, though severe;
Though nobly thirsting after honest fame.
In spite of wit's temptation, keeping friendship's

name.

O friendship, heavenly flame ! by far above

The ties of nature, or of dearer love :

How beauteous are thy paths, how well designed,

To 60othe the wretched mortal's restless mind !

By thee inspir'd we wear a soul sedate,

And cheerful tread the thorny paths of fate.

Then music too shall cheer this fair abode,

Music, the sweetest of the gifts of God ;

Music, the language of propitious love;

Music, that things inanimate can move.

Ye winds be hush'd, let no presumptuous breeze

Now dare to whistle through the rustling trees ;

Thou Delaware a while forget to roar,

Nor dash thy foaming surge against the shore :

Be thy green nymphs upon thy surface found.

And let thy stagnant waves confess the sound ;

Let thy attentive fishes all be nigh »
For fish were always friends to harmony ;
Witness the dolphin which Arion bore,
And landed safely on his native shore.

Let doting cynics snarl, let noisy zeal
Tax this design with act or thought of ill ;
Let narrow souls their rigid morals boast,
Till in the shadowy name the virtue's lost;
Let envy strive their character to blast,
And fools despise the sweets they cannot taste ;
This certain truth let the inquirer know,
It did from good and generous motives flow.

JOSEPH BRIENTNALL

Was! another member of the " Junto," whom
Franklin has sketched in a few words : — " A
copier of deeds for the scriveners, — a good-na-
tured, ^friendly, middle-aged man, a great lover of
poetiy, reading all he could meet with, and writ-
ing some that was tolerable ; very ingenious in
making little knick-knackeries, and of sensible
conversation."

AVhen Jieimer, through the treacherous friend-
ship of the Oxford scapegrace Webb, became
acquainted with Franklin's plan of starting a
newspaper, and anticipated the project ; Franklin,
whose plans were not fully lipe, threw the weight
of his talentintothe oppositionjoumal of Bradford,
The Weekly Mercury, where he commenced pub-
lishing the series of Essays, in the manner of the
Spectator, entitled, The Bttsy-Body* The first,
fifth, and eighth numbers were Franklin's, and
they were afterwards continued for some months
by Brientnall. A more practical satisfaction soon
followed, when Keimer's paper fell into Franklin's
hands, and became known as the Philadelphia
Gazette, of 1729. As a specimen of Brientnall
we take his lines prefixed to Webb's " Batchelors'
Hall:"'

The generous Muse concern'd to see
Detraction bear so great a sway,

Descends sometimes, as now to thee,
To chase ill fame and spite away.

Censorious tongues, which nimbly move,
Each virtuous name to persecute,

Thy muse has taught the truth to prove,
And be to base conjectures mute.

Let every deed that merits praise,

Be justly crown'd with spritely verse ;

And every tongue shall give the bays

To him whose lines they, pleas'd, rehearse.

Long stand the dome, the garden grow,
And may thy song prove always true :

I wish no greater good below,

Than this to hear, and that to view.

JAMES RALPH.

The exact birthplace of this writer, who at-
tained considerable distinction by his political
pamphlets and histories in England, and whose
memory has been embalmed for posterity in the
autobiography of Franklin and the Dunciad of
Pope, has never been precisely ascertained. Wc
first hear of him in the company of Franklin at
Philadelphia, as one of his young literary cronies
whom the sage confesses at that time to have in-

* It wns evidently considered a prominent fcaturo of Iho
small sheet in which it appeared.

JAMES RALPH.

103

doctrinated in infidelity. In those days Ralph
was " a clerk to a merchant," and much inclined
to "give himself up entirely to poetry. He
was," adds Franklin, " ingenious, genteel in his
manners, and extremely eloquent ; I think I
never knew a prettier talker." He embarked
with Franklin, as is well known, on his first voy-
age to England, leaving a wife and child behind
him, as an illustration of his opinions, and the two
cronies spent their money in London together,
" inseparable companions" in Little Britain. Ralph
rapidly went through all the phases of the old
London school of preparation for a hack political
pamphleteer. He tried the playhouse, but Wilkes
thought he had no qualifications for the stage ;
he projected a weekly paper on the plan of the
Spectator, but the publisher Roberts did not ap-
prove of it ; and even an attempt at the drudgery
of a scrivener with the Temple lawyers was un-
successful. He managed, however, to associate
with his fortunes a young milliner who lodged in
the house with the two adventurers ; but he was
compelled to leave her, and go into the country
for the employment of a schoolmaster, and Frank-
lin took advantage of his absence to make some
proposals to the mistress which were rejected,
and which Ralph pleaded afterwards as a receipt
in full for all his obligations, pecuniary and other-
wise, to his friend. While in the provinces, where,
by the way, he called himself Mr. Franklin, he
found employment in writing an epic poem which
he sent by instalments to his friend at London,
who dissuaded him from it, and backed his
opinions with a copy of Young's satire on the
folly of authorship, which was then just pub-
lished. He continued scribbling verses, however,
till, as Franklin says, "Pope cured him." His
first publication appears to have been Night, a
poem, in 1728, which is commemorated in the
couplet of the Dunciad :

Silence, ye wolves, while Ralph to Cynthia howls,
And makes Night hideous — answer him ye owls:*

a compliment which was paid not so much to that
poem, whatever its demerits, as to a poetical
squib which Ralph had published, entitled Saw-
ney, reflecting unpleasently on Pope, Swift, and
Gay. Night was followed" in 1729 by the Epic
Zeuma, or the Lore of Liberty. It is an octavo
volume in three books, a story of love and war
of a Peruvian chieftain whose mistress is captured
by the Spaniards, and recovered again, while the
hero falls in a grand battle. Of this work the
curious reader of Franklin may be pleased with a
specimen, and we accordingly quote a passage
from a copy in the Harvard College library, the
only one we have met with.

Tis hard for man, bewilder'd in a maze
Of doubtful reas'nings, to assign the cause
Why heav'n's all-ruling pow'r supremely just
And good, shou'd give Iberia's cruel sons
Unbounded leave to travel o'er the globe.
And search remotest climes ; to stretch their sway
Through all the western world ; to exile Peace "
And Liberty, with all their train of joys
From the afflicted lands ; and proudly vex
Th' unhappy nations with oppressive rule.

* Book iii. 16Wi. His name ia also mentioned. Book
216. ^

In age3 paBt, as time revolv'd the year,
'Twas all a round of innocent delights ;
The fearless Natives rarely heard of war
And its destructive ills; Famine, Disease,
And all the various plagues of other realms,
Were there unknown; life was a constant scene
Of harmless pleasures ; and, when full of days,
The woodland hunter and the toiling swain
Like ripen'd fruit that, in the midnight shade,
Drops from the bough, in peace and silence sank
Into the grave. But when the Spanish troops,
In search of plunder, crowded on the shore,
And claimed, by right divi?ie, the sovereign rule,
Another scene began ; and all the woes,
Mankind can sutler, took their turn to reign.

A Pindaric ode in blank verse, The Muse's Ad-
dress to the King, was another of Ralph's poetical
attempts. The year 1730 produced a play, The
Fashionable Lady, or Harlequin's Opera, per-
formed at Goodman's Fields, followed by several
others, The Fall of the Earl of Essex, Lawyer's
Feast, and Astrologer. Pope, not the fairest
witness, says that he praised himself in the jour-
nals, and that upon being advised to study the
laws of dramatic poetry before he wrote for the
stage, he replied, " Shakspeare writ without
rules."* His ability at writing, however, and
making himself useful, gained him the support
of Dodington, and secured him a puff in that
politician's Diary. He wrote in the newspapers
of the day, the London Journal, the Weekly
Medley, and published The Remembrancer in the
use of his patron. His History of England
during the reigns of King William, Queen Anne,
and George L. ; with an Introductory Renew of the
reigns of the Royal Brothers Charles II. and
James II. ; in which are to be found the seeds of
the Revolution, was published in two huge folios,
1744-6, and he is said to have had in it Doding-
ton's assistance. He was also the author of two
octavo volumes on The Use and Abuse of Parlia-
ments from 1660 to 1744, and a Review of the
Public Buildings of London, in 1731, has been
attributed to him. Charles James Fox has spoken
well of his historical " acuteness" and " diligence,"
and noticed his " sometimes falling into the com-
mon error of judging bj' the event."t His last
production in 1758, for which his active experi-
ences had fully supplied him with material, was
entitled The Case of Authors by Profession or
Trade Stated, with regard to Booksellers, the
Stage and the Public. " It is," says Drake,
" composed with spirit and feeling ; enumerating
all the bitter evils incident to an employment so
precarious, and so inadequately rewarded ; and
abounds in anecdote and entertainment."! Hav-
ing thus recorded what he had learnt of this
profession, and obtained a pension too late to
enjoy it long, he died of a fit of the gout at
Chiswick, Jan. 24, 1762.}

* Note tn the Dunciad, Bk. iii. v. 165. This is Pope'3 own
note, not Warbnrton's, as Chalmers alleges.

t History of James II. 4to. 179.

X One of tlie anecdotes of Ralph is particularly amusing. We
once read it among some manuscript notes by Mrs. Pinzzi, to
a copy of Johnson's Lives of the Poets. Garrick wishing to
invite Ralph to a dinner party at his house, told his servant to
carry him a card. The Milesian mistaking the order, went
after him witli Mr. Garrick's respects, who had sent a cart to
bring him to dinner. It is needless to add he was missing at
the table. Upon the host making inquiry it was found that
Mr. Ralph had expressed his disapproval of the conveyance.

§ Franklin's Autobiography. Chalmers's Biog. Diet." Drako's

104

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

BENJAMIN FEANKLIN.

Benjamin Franklin, whose very name, since it
was consecrated by the poet Chaucer, is freshly
suggestive of freedom, was born in Boston, Janu-
ary 17, 1706. He was the youngest son of the
youngest son for five generations, the fifteenth child
of his father out of a family of seventeen, fourteen
of whom were born in America, and of these ten
were the children of his mother, the second wife,
and all grew up to years of maturity and were
married. His father was a non-conformist emi-
grant from England, who came to Boston about

Birthplace of Franklin.

1685, a man of strength and prudence of cha-
racter; descended from a family which, though it
could claim no other nobility than in nature's he-
raldry of honest labor, had shown considerable
persistency in that; holding on to a small freehold
estate of thirty acres in Northamptonshire for a
period of three hundred years, the eldest son stea-
dily pursuing the business of a smith. Franklin
was not averse to these claims of antiquity. In
his Autobiography he mentions having examined
the registers at Ecton, and " found an account of
the family marriages and burials from the year
1555 only" An uncle who died four years before
his illustrious nephew was born, heralded the
rising instincts of the race by his struggles out of
the smithery into a legal education, and a position
of considerable influence in the county. There
was also some taste for literature making its ap-
pearance from another uncle, Benjamin, our
Franklin's godfather, who lived to an old age in
Boston, and left behind him, in 1728, two quarto
volumes of manuscript poems, occasional family
verses, acrostics, and the like. One of these com-
positions, sent to the young Benjamin at the. age
of seven, on some demonstration of precocity,
turned out to be prophetic.

BENT TO BENJAMIN FEANKLIN, 1718.

'Tis time for me to throw aside my pen,

"When hanging sleeves read, write, and rhyme like

men.
This forward spring foretells a plenteous crop;
For, if the bud bear grain, what will the top!

Essays, Biog. Grit, & Hist. 1Si9. i 94 Mcbols's Literavy
Anccdotes, ix. 59u.

If plenty in the verdant blade appear,
What may we not soon hope for in the ear!
When flowers are beautiful before they're blown,
What rarities will afterward be shown !
If trees good fruit un'noculated bear,
You may be sure 't will afterward be rare.
If fruits are sweet before they've time to yellow,
How luscious will they be when they are mellow!
If first year's shoots such noble clusters send,
What laden boughs, Engedi-like, may we expect in
the end!

In 1710 he had written this Acrostic to his
nephew.

Be to thy parents an obedient son ;
Each day let duty constantly be done;
Kever give way to sloth, or lust, or pride,
If free you'd be from thousand ills beside ;
Above all ills be sure avoid the shelf
Man's danger lies in Satan, sin, and self.
In virtue, learning, wisdom, progress make;
Ne'er shrink at suffering for thy Saviour's sake.

Fraud and all falsehood in thy dealings flee.
Religious always in thy station be;
Adore the maker of thy inward part,
Now's the accepted time, give him thy heart;
Keep a good conscience, 'tis a constant friend,
Like judge and witness this thy acts attend.
In heart with bended knee, alone, adore
None but the Three in One for evermore.*

Franklin's mother represented a literary nsiua
of the old province of Massachusetts. She was
the daughter of Peter Folger, of whose little poeti-
cal volume, " A Looking Glass for the Times,"
asserting liberty of conscience, we have already
given some account.t

The early incidents of Franklin's life are hap-
pily familiar, through the charming pages of the
Autobiography, to every American reader. There
is not an intelligent school-boy who does not know
the story of his escape from the noisome soap and
candle manufactory of his father into the printing-
office of his brother ; his commencement of the
literary life, when, like the young Oliver Gold-
smith, he wrote ballads for the streets, on the
Light-house tragedy and Black-beard the pirate,
and desisted from this unprofitable course of poetry
when his father told him that " verse makers were
generally beggars ;" his borrowing books and sit-
ting up in the night to read them ; buying others
for himself, and finding opportunity to study them,
by the savings of time and money in his printing-
office dinner of a slice of bread and a glass of
water; his stealthily slipping his articles under
the door of his newspaper office, the New England
Courant, at night ; his endurance of various slights
and humilities, till nature and intellect grew too
strong in him for his brother's tyranny, when he
broke the connexion of his apprenticeship and be-
took himself to Philadelphia, where he ate that

* Mr. Sparks supplies these passages from the MS. volumes
still preserved in Boston. "The handwriting1," says he, "is
beautiful, with occasional specimens of shorthand, in which
Dr. Franklin says his uncle was skilled. The poetical merits
of the compositions cannot he ranked high, but frequently the
measure is smooth and the rhymes are well chosen. His
thoughts run chiefly on moral and religious subjects. Many
of the Psalms are paraphrased in metre. The making of acros-
tics on the names of his friends was a favorite exercise. There
are likewise numerous proofs of his ingenuity in forming ana-
grams, crosses, ladders, and other devices." Appendix, to LU'o
of Franklin, Works, i. 540.

t Aide, p. S3.

BENJAMIN FRANKLIK

105

Memorable " puffy" roll in the streets, observed as
he wont along by Miss Read, his future wife ; his
first sleep in the city in the Quaker meeting ; his
printing-house work and education ; his singular
association with Governor Keith, and the notice
which he received from Burnet, the Governor of
New York, as he journeyed along, marking thus
earl}T his career and influence with titled person-
ages, which carried him to the thrones of kings
themselves.

That " odd volume of the Spectator," too,
which directed his youthful tastes, how often do
we meet with its kindly influences in American
literature. It turns up again and again in the
pages of Freneau, Dennie, Paulding, Irving; and
we have had another good look at it lately
through the lorgnette of Master Ik Marvel.*

Franklin left Boston at seventeen, in 1723 ;
visited England the following year, worked at his
trade, and wrote a treatise of infidel metaphysics,
and returned to Philadelphia in 1726. The plan
for the conduct of life which he wrote on this
voyage homewards, lias been lost. Its scope may
be readily gathered from his writings. Industry,
we may be sure, formed a prominent feature in
it, and economy of happiness the next, by which
a man should live on as good terms as possible
with himself and his neighbors. In his early life,
Franklin had exposed himself to some danger by
his habit of criticism. More than one passage of
Ids writings warns the reader against this ten-
dency. Though he never appears to have wanted
firmness on proper occasions, he settled down upon
tha resolution to speak ill of no one whatever,
and as much good as possible of everybody.

On his return to Philadelphia, he established
the club, the Junto, which lasted many years, and
was a means not only of improvement but of po-
litical influence, as his opportunities for exercising
it increased. The steps of Franklin's progress
were now rapid. He established himself as a
printer, purchased the Pennsylvania Gazette, then
recently started, and which he had virtually pro-
jected in 1729 ; published the same year a
pamphlet, A Modest Enquiry into the Nature
and Necessity of a Paper Currency ; married in
1730 ; assisted in founding the Philadelphia
Library in 1731 ; the next year published his Al-
manac; was chosen in 1736 clerk of the General
Assembly ; became deputy postmaster at Phila-
delphia in 1737 ; was all tins while a printer, and
publishing the newspaper, not dividing the duties
of his printing office with a partner until 1748 ;
in 1741 published The General Magazine and
Historical Chronicle for all the British Planta-
tions in America; invented the stove which
bears his name in 1742 ; proposed the American
■Philosophical Society in 1743 ; established the
Academy, out of which the University of Penn-
sylvania finally grew, in 1749 ; in 1752 demon-
strated his theory of the identity of lightning
with electricity by his famous kite experiment in
a field near Philadelphia ; on the anticipation of
war with France was sent as a delegate to the
Congress of Commissioners of the Colonies at
Albany in 1754, where he proposed a system of

* Franklin did not forjret the Spectator, the friend of his
boyhood, in his last days. In his will he bequeathes to the son
of his friend, Mrs. Ilewson, "a set of Spectators, Tatlers, and
Guardians, handsomely bound.'1

union which in important points anticipated the
present Confederation ; opposed taxation by par-
liament; assisted Braddock's Expedition by his
energy ; was himself for a short time a military
commander on the frontier in 1756 ; was the
next year sent to England by the Assembly, a
popular representative against the pretensions of
the Proprietaries, when Massachusetts, Maryland,
and Georgia also appointed him their agent ;
took part in the Historical Review of Pennsyl-
vania, a trenchant volume on the affairs of the
Colony, in 1759 ; wrote a pamphlet, The Interest
of Great Britain Considered in the retention of
Canada, in 1760 ; received the degree of Doctor
of Laws from the Universities of Edinburgh and
Oxford, and returned to America in 1762. Two
years after he returned to England as Colonial
agent ; pursued his course industriously and
courteously for the interests of the old Govern-
ment, but firmly for the right claimed at home ;
bore a full Examination before Parliament on the
relations of America to the Stamp Act, which was
published and read with general interest ; was con-
fronted by Wedderburn, the Solicitor-General for
the crown, as counsel for Hutchinson at the me-
morable privy council examination of January,
1774; returned again to Philadelphia in 1775 ;
signed the Declaration of Independence in Con-
gress ; went ambassador to France in October of
the same year, when he was seventy, and dis-
played his talents in diplomacy and society ;
returning after signing the treaty of peace in 1785
to America, when he was made President of the
Commonwealth of Pennsylvania for three years ;
was a delegate to the Federal Convention in 1787,
and retaining his full powers of mind and consti-
tutional cheerfulness to the last, died April 17,
1790, in his eighty-fourth year.

The famous epitaph which he wrote in his days
of youth, at the age of twenty-three, was not
placed over his grave in Philadelphia.

The Body

Of

Benjamin Franklin,

Printer,

(Like the cover of an old book,

Its contents torn out,

And stript of its lettering and gilding,)

Lies here, food for worms.

Yet the work itself shall not be lost,

For it will, as he believed, appear once more,

In a new

And more beautiful edition,

Corrected and amended

By

The Author.*

* We have already printed, and', p. 22, Wood bridge's epitaph
on Cotton, supposed to be the original of this. There is an-
other old New England source in the lines written in 1G81, by
Joseph Capen, Minister of Topsfield.on the death of John
Foster, who, Mr. Sparks tells us, set up the first printing-press
in Boston.

Thy body, which no activeness did lack,

Now'slaid aside like an old almanac;

But for the present only's out of date,

'Twill have at length a far more active state.

Tea, though with dust thy body soiled be,

Yet at the resurrection we shall see

A fair edition, and of matchless worth.

Free from Errata, new in Heaven set forth;

'Tis but a word frnm G<>d. the srreat Creator,

It shall be done when he saith Imprimatur.
DavU, i:i his Travels in Ameiica, finds another sourco for

106

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

He directed a simpler inscription in his will : —
" I wish to be buried by the side of my wife, if it
may be, and that a marble stone, to be made by
Chambers, six feet long, four feet wide, plain,
with only a small moulding round the upper edge,
and this inscription,

Benjamin )

AND > FbANKLTN.

Deborah )

178—.
be placed over us both."

One of the most memorable incidents in Frank-
lin's life, was his appearance, in 1774, before the
Committee of the Privy Council, on the hearing
of the Petition of the Massachusetts people, for
the recall of Hutchinson and Oliver, whose mina-
tory letters he had been instrumental in publish-
ing, and thereby lighted the torch of Revolution.
Franklin had there to meet the assault of Wed-
derburn, the Solicitor-General of the Crown, who
attacked him with the sharpest wit and fiercest
insolence. Franklin represented his agency in the
matter of procuring and forwarding the letters to
America, as a public act, dealing with the public
correspondence of public men. Wedderburn in-
veighed against it as a theft, and betrayal of
private confidence. " Into what companies," he
exclaimed, "will the fabricator of this iniquity
hereafter go with an unembarrassed face, or with
any semblance of the honest intrepidity of vir-
tue? Men will watch him with a jealous eye —
they will hide their papers from him, and lock up
their escritoires. Having hitherto aspired after
fame by his writings, he will henceforth esteem
it a libel to be called a man of letters — homo
trium literarum ;"* and, in allusion to Franklin's
avowal of his share in the transaction — " I can
compare him only to Zanga, in Dr. Young's Re-
venge—

Know, then, 'twas I,
I forged the letter — I disposed the picture —
I hated, I despised — and I destroy.

I ask, my Lord, whether the revengeful temper
attributed by poetic fiction only to the bloody-

this, in a Latin Epitaph on the London bookseller, Jacob Ton-
son, published with an English translation in the Gentleman's
Magazine for Feb. 1736. This is its conclusion —
When heaven review' d th1 original text,
Twas with erratas few perplex'd:
Pleas'd with the copy was collated,
And to a better life translated.
But let to life this supplement
Be printed on thy monument,
Lest the.first page of death should be, •

Great editor a blank to thee ;
And thou who many titles gave.
Should want one title for this grave.
" Stay passenger and drop a tear ;
Here lies a noted Bookseller :
This marble index here is plac'd
To tell, that when he found drfac'd
His book of life he died with grief:
Yet he by true and genuine belief,
A new edition may expect,
Far more enlarg'd and more correct."
* The old Roman joke on a thief — the word of three letters,
fur. It occurs in Plautus.
Anthrax. — Tun' trium litterarum homo Me vituperas?
Congrio. — Fur, etiam fur trifurcifer.

Aulularia, Act ii. sc. iv. v. 46-7.
which Eiley thus Englishes :

Anth. — You, vou three-lettered fellow, do you abuse me, you
thief?

Congrio. — To be sure I do, you .trebly-distilled thief of
thieves.

Bohn's Plautus, i. 391.

minded African, is not surpassed by the coolness
and apathy of the wily New Englander."*

A distinguished company was present in the
Council Chamber; among others, Burke, Priestley,
and Jeremy Bentham. The last has described
Franklin's quiet endurance of the scene : " Alone
in the recess, on the left hand of the president,
standing, remaining the whole time like a rock,
in the same posture, his head resting on his left
hand, and in that attitude abiding the pelting of
the pitiless storm. "t Priestley} says that Lord
North was the only one of the council who be-
haved with decent gravity. To conciliate his
fellow Englishmen, Franklin had dressed himself
carefully for the occasion in a costly suit of Man-
chester velvet, and Priestley adds the story of
Franklin's triumph : — " Silas Deane told me that,
when they met at Paris to sign the treaty be-
tween France and America, he purposely put on
that suit."§ Verily Franklin had his revenge in
the swift pursuing decrees of fate. An epigram-
matist of the times declared the end : —

Sarcastic sawney, full of spite and hate,
On modest Franklin poured his venal prate;
The calm philosopher without reply
Withdrew — and gave his country liberty :|

and the retributive pen of the historian has
pointed to the final reputation of the two actors
in the scene — the usurping tyrant of the hour
and the generous benefactor of the age. " Frank-
lin and Wedderburn parted; the one to spread
the celestial fire of freedom among men ; to make
his name a cherished household word in every
nation of Europe ; and in the beautiful language
of AVashington, ' to be venerated for benevolence,
to be admired for talents, to be esteemed for pa-
triotism, to be beloved for philanthropy :' the
other, childless though twice wedded, unbeloved,
wrangling with the patron who had impeached
his veracity, busy only in ' getting everything he
could' in the way of titles and riches, as the
wages of corruption. Franklin, when he died,
had nations for his mourners, and the great and
the good throughout the world as his eulogists ;
when Wedderburn died there was no man to
mourn; no senate spoke his praise; no poet
embalmed his memory; and his King, hearing
that he was certainly dead, said only, " then he
has not left a greater knave behind him in mv
dominions.' r1f

The finest study of Franklin is in his Auto-
biography. Simple in style, it is tinged by the
peculiar habit of the author's mind, and shows
his humor of character in perfection. Notice, for
instance, the lurking tone of admiration of the

* Chief Justice Campbells Lives of the Lord Chancellors,
vi. 103-^L He introduces this '•memorable contest' ' with thu
ballad quotation,

The babe that was unborn might rue
The speaking of that day.

t Campbell's Chancellors, vi. 101.

± It was in a letter dated Nov. 10, 1SC2, at Northumberland,
in Pennsylvania, which appeared in the London Monthly Maga-
zine for February, 1SC3. It is printed in the appendix to the
Priestley Memoirs, 448-454.

§ Mr. Sparks notices the common error in telling this story
adopted by Lord Brougham in his sketch of Wedderburn,
which makes Franklin to have worn the dress the second time
at the signing of the peace of Versailles. — Life of Franklin, 4£S,

II Notes and Queries, No. 116.

•f Bancroft, vi. 499.

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.

107

crafty old sopliister, in the account of the conversa-
tion of old Bradford with Keimer, the printer, on
Franklin's first introduction; or the adroitness
with which, when he is about being caught in his
own web, when he is recommending modesty in
proposing critical opinions, and falls himself to
amending a couplet of Pope — he ventures his
emendation, and recovers his position by adding,
"This, however, I should submit to better judg-
ments."

There is a simplicity in this book which charms
us in the same way with the humorous touches
©f nature in the Vicar of Wakefield. Franklin's
Boston brother in the printing-office, — irascible,
jealous, and mortified on the return of the success-
ful adventurer, who is playing off his prosperity
before the workmen, is an artist's picture of life,
drawn in a few conclusive touches. So, too, is
Keimer as happily hit off as any personage in Gil
Bias, particularly in that incident at the break-up
of Franklin's system of vegetable diet, which he
had adopted ; he invites his journeymen and two
women frienus to dine with him, providing a
roa^t pig for the occasion, which being prema-
turely served up, is devoured by the enthusiast,
before the company arrives ; in that effective
sketch, in a paragraph of the Philadelphia City
Croaker, whose ghost still walks every city in the
world, mocking prosperity of every degree,- — " a
person of note, an elderly man, with a wis'e look
and a very grave manner of speaking." The
Autobiography was written in several portions.
It was first commenced at Twyford, the country
residence of the good bishop of St. Asaph, in
1771, and addressed to his son the Governor of
New Jersey, and continued at intervals, till the
Revolutionary War occupied the writer's time
exclusively. It was again, at the solicitation of
his friends James and Vaughan, resumed at
Passy, in 1784, and afterwards continued in Ame-
rica. The history of the several editions of this
work is curious. It was first, as was the case
with Jefferson's " Notes on Virginia," published
in French, translated from the author's manu-
script. This version was re-translated into Eng-
lish, and published-for the first time in that lan-
guage, in London, in 1793. Oddly enough, in ano-
ther French edition, which appeared in Paris, in
1798, the autobiography was again translated into
French, from the English version of the foreign
language. The work, as Franklin wrote it, in his
native tongue, was first given lo the world in the
collection of his writings, by his grandson, William
Temple Franklin, in 1817. The translation from
the French is still in circulation in this country,
notwithstanding the publication of Franklin's
original; though the authoritative edition of
Sparks has of late set an example which will
drive all other copies than the genuine one from
the market.*

* To the old American editions a continuation was added by
Dr. Henry Stuber. He was of German parentage, born in Phi-
ladelphia, about 1770. He was a pupil of Dr. Kunze, in Greek,
Latin, and German, when that divine, afterwards established in
New York, was connected with the University of Pennsylva-
nia. He studied medicine, which his health hardly allowed
bim to practise. Obtaining a situation in one of tile public
offices of the United States government, he was engaged in the
study of the law, when he died early in life. He wrote for the
journals of the day ; bot the only publication bv which he will
ba remembered, is bis continuation of the Life of Franklin.

The Autobiography, continued from time to
time — the latter portions of it were written as
late as the year 1788 — concludes with Franklin's
arrival in England as agent of the Assembly,
against the Proprietaries in 1757. The thirty-
three years of his life then unexpired were to bo
filled with momentous interests ; his participation
in which as the manager and negotiator of the
infant state throws into the shade the literature,
which continued, however, to employ him to the
end. It was during his last sojourn at Paris,

amidst the cares of state, that he composed those
literary essays of such general fame — the Ephe-
mera, Petition of the Cats, the Whistle, and the
Dialogue with the Gout, written for the amuse-
ment of the brilliant friends, including Madame
Helvetius and Madame Brillon, who enlivened his
age and cares at Passy and Auteuil.

While Franklin was a printer in London, ho gave
vent to 1 lis philosophical views by printing a pamph-
let entitled A Dissertation on Liberty and Neces-
sity, Pleasure and Pain, in a Letter to a Friend.
This was in 1725. Though he expresses a dislike
of the publication, he recurs to it with some
paternal affection both in the Autobiography and
in his Correspondence. The essay belonged to
the school of Mandeville in obliterating the
distinctions between virtue and vice, and readily
introduced the young printer, who was not nine-
teen years of age at that time, to that arch-skeptic,
the author of " The Fable of the Bee?," who held
an entertaining club in Cheapside. The pamphlet
was started in the busy brain of the compositor
by his setting up Wollaston's " Religion of

Beyond this, the memory of the man had almost perished,
when the foregoing particulars were with difficulty collected
by Dr. John W. Francis, of this city, who communicated them
to Mr. Sparks, bv whom they were published in the tenth
volume of Die Li'fo and Writings of Franklin.

108

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Nature," to which it was intended as a reply.
Its argument was a sublimated optimism arguing
everything in the world to be right from the
attributes of the Deity of wisdom, goodness, and
power. The motto was from Dryden :

"Whatever is, is right. But purblind man
Sees but a part o' the chain, the nearest links ;
His eyes not earryii g to that equal beam,
That poises all above.

One hundred copies only of the work were print-
ed ; a few were given to friends ; the author became
dissatisfied with the production, and burnt the
remainder, excepting a copy filled with manuscript
notes, by his acquaintance at the time, a surgeon
named Lyons, who wrote on the " Infallibility of
Human Judgment." This tract has not been
printed in any edition of Franklin's works.
"When Mr. Sparks published his edition in 1840,
it. was thought to be entirely lost. That editor
expressed his belief that " no copy of this tract is
now known to be in existence." Sir James Mack-
intosh searched for it in vain. Since that time a
copy has been found in England. James Cross-
ley communicates the fact to the antiquarian pub-
lication, Notes and Queries.* It is a pamphlet of
sixteen closely printed octavo pages. It is ad-
dressed to Mr. J (ames) R (alph), and commences
with the comprehensive declaration : " I have
here, according to your request, given you my
present thoughts on the general state of things in
the universe ;" and concludes with the undeniable
assertion, " Truth will be truth, though it some-
times proves mortifying and distasteful."

Poor Richard's Almanac was commenced by
Franklin in 1733, and continued for twenty-six
years, to 1758. It was put forward as the pro-
duction of Richard Saunders, Philomath, print-
ed and sold by B. Franklin. Its quaint humor
and homespun moralities made its successive
issues great favorites with the people, who to their
credit have always shown an avidity for popular
publications of humor and sagacity, from Cotton
Mather's grim moralities down to the felicitous
Mrs. Partington, who gets the smallest modicum
of wisdom out of the greatest amount of nonsense.
About ten thousand copies were sold of it annu-
ally, a great number for the times. As in the
case of most very popular works, the early edi-
tions were literally consumed by its ardent ad-
mirers. One of the old copies is now considered
a great rarity ; and a complete set was found by
Mr. Sparks to be unattainable.f

Its greatest popularity was achieved when a
number of Poor Richard's aphorisms were col-
lected and prefixed as an harangue to the people,
The Way to Wealth, to the almanac for 1758.
In this concentrated form Poor Richard passed

* No. 114, Jan. 8. 1552.

t Most of the numbers were, however, got together after
marly four years' research among public libraries and private
collections, by John Doggett, Jr., who, in 1S49, commenced the
republication of the Poor Richard matterin annual instalments
of three years to each number, appended to new astronomical
calculations for the current year. He proceeded with this
work through three numbers, when it was interrupted by Jiis
death. At the sale of his effects, eighteen numbers of Poor
Eichard were purchased at twelve dollars each. John Don-
gett was from Dorchester, Mass. He dealt in New York in a
virtnoso collection of paintings, engravings, autographs &c.
He commenced a New York Directory in 1842, and continued
it till his death in the city, in 1862.

into general circulation as a popular tract in news-
papers and broadsheets. Franklin himself attri-
butes the growing plenty of money in Philadel-
phia after its appearance, to the practice of its
economical precepts. Three translations have
been made of it in French, where it passes as La
Science du Bonhomme Richard. It was printed in
modern Greek at Didot's press in Paris in 1823.

Poor Richard's matter consists of Mr. Saunders's
facetious annual introductions ; a bit of homely
poetry for the month ; with the interspaces of the
Calendar, left after the important weather pro-
phecies sprinkled down the page, filled with sen-
tentious maxims. Some of these are coarse and
homely for the digestion of ploughmen ; others
show the nicer edge of Franklin's wit and expe-
rience. Rhyme lends its aid to reason ; and prac-
tical morality has work to do which renders her
not very dainty in the use of words. Temperance
and independence have sturdy advocates in Poor
Richard. "It is hard," says he, "for an empty
sack to stand upright." " Drink water, put the
money in your pocket, and leave the dry belly-
ache in the punchbowl." " If you would be
reveng'd of your enemj-, govern yourself."

" If you ride a horse sit close and tight,
If you ride a man, sit easy and light."

" If you would not be forgotten as soon as you are
dead and rotten, either write things worth read-
ing, or do things worth the writing." " Fish and
visiters smell in three days." "As we must ac-
count for every idle word, so we must for every
idle silence." The poetry is in a few more lines
than the maxims, generally with a home thrust at
vanity or vice.

That all from Adam first begun,

Since none but Winston doubts,
And that his son, and his son's son

Were ploughmen, clowns, and louts;
Here lies the only difference now,

Some shot off late, some soon ;
Your sires i' th' morning left the plough

And ours i' th' afternoon.

And sometimes a little playful elegance :

My love and I for kisses play'd,

She would keep stakes, I was content,
But when I won, she would be paid,
This made me ask her what she meant :

Quoth she, since you are in this wrangling vein,
Here, take your kisses, give me mine again.

When Paul Jones, in Paris, in 1778, was
making application to the French Government
for a military vessel to pursue his career at sea,
wearied out with the delay of the officials, and
the neglect of his letters from the sea-ports, he
happened to take up an old number of Franklin's
Almanac, and alighted on this sentence of Poor
Richard, " If you would have your business done,
go ; if not, send." He took the advice, proceeded
himself to the capital, and pushed his application
so successfully, that in gratitude to the oracle he
obtained permission to call the ship granted to
him the Bon Homme Richard* Its fortunes
soon made the French translation of the name as
familiar to American ears as the original Poor
Richard.

* Mackenzie's Life of Paal Jones, i. 134.

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.

109

Franklin's voluminous correspondence would
alone have given him high literary reputation as
a letter writer. His essential philanthropy, good
humor, wit, and ready resources, are every-
where apparent in this. It is the best part of his
conversation, vital for posterity, and we may
readily imagine from it how Franklin talked, as
with his fine tact he always offers something in-
spiring, useful, and entertaining to his friends,
lint it is to the perspicuity, method, and ease of
Franklin's philosophical writings that his solid
reputation will remain greatly indebted. These
qualities cannot be better described than in the
words of Sir Humphrey Davy, the generous en-
comiast of his scientific brethren, who himself
practised every grace which he attributed to
others : — " A singular felicity of induction guided
all his researches, and by very small means he
established very grand truths. The style and
manner of his publication on electricity, are al-
most as worthy of admiration as the doctrine it
contains. He has endeavoured to remove all
mystery and obscurity from the subject. He has
written equally for the uninitiated and for the phi-
losopher; and he has rendered his details amusing
and perspicuous, elegant as well as simple. Sci-
ence appears in his language, in a dress wonder-
fully decorous, best adapted to display her native
loveliness. He has in no instance exhibited that
false dignity, by which philosophy is kept aloof
from common applications; and he has sought
rather to make her a useful inmate and servant
in the common habitations of man, than to pre-
serve her merely as an object of admiration in
temples and palaces.''*

The uniform industry of Franklin was im-
mense ; and though writing was but an incidental
pursuit to one who was not an author by pro-
fession, and derived no revenue from his pen, the
aggregate of his distinct literary compositions out-
distances the labors of many who have worked
directly for reputation and the booksellers. As
enumerated by Mr. Sparks.f the list of his writ-
ings, separate books, articles, or distinct papers,
independently of his iiuge correspondence, amounts
to three hundred and four items, thickly sown
along his busy years — and he was alway.s busy
— from 1726 to 1790. They exhaust every
method of doing good practically, which fell
within the range of his powers or experience.
They are upon topics of individual and social im-
provement, of the useful arts, which adorn and
ameliorate daily life, of the science which en-
larges the powers of the mind and increases the
comfort of the body, of political wisdom, extend-
ing from the direction of a village to the control
and prosperity of the state. In every form of
purely human endeavor, the genius of Franklin
is paramount. There were principles in philoso-
phy anil religion beyond his ken, fields of specu-
lation which his telescope never traversed, metu-
physic spaces of the soul to the electric powers
of which his lightning rods were no conductors.
In the parcel allotment of duties in this world,
his path lay in the region of the practical. In
the words of our great sire to the archangel, he
might have professed that

* Quoted in Sparks' s Life. 467.
t Works of Franklin, x. 449.

To know that which before us lies in daily life
Is the prime wisdom.

There he was seldom at fault; cool, wary,
political, never betraying himself, never betraying
the state : in the language of his American histo-
rian, a writer himself skilled in affairs : " Franklin
was the greatest diplomatist of the eighteenth
century. He never spoke a word too soon ; he
never spoke a word too late ; he never spoke a
word too much ; he never failed to speak the
right word at the right season."*

We have alluded to Franklin's philosophy as
indicative of the religious powers. Here it may
be said that he rather lived by them than in
them. He appreciated the devout and transcen-
dent labors of such men as Jonathan Edwards, in
laying the foundations, and could empty his
pockets at the heart-stirring appeals of White-
field. His friendships, in England and America,
were with bishops and divines. The Bishop of
St. Asaph, of Sodor and Man, no less than the
Methodist Whitefield, were his friends ; and he
could cast an eye backwards with affection and
reverence, from the glittering salons of Paris, to
the dark shades of Puritan ancestors. There was
a sound, vein of piety in his composition, which
bore its' fruits ; nor had French levity, or com-
panionship with the encyclopaedists, blunted his
religious education. His warning hand, raised to
Paine on the eve of his infidel publication,
deserves to be remembered, with his appeal to the
obligations of that arch-corrupter himself to reli-
gion : " Perhaps you are indebted to her originally,
that is to your religious education, for the habits
of virtue upon which you now justly value your-
self. You might easily display your excellent
talents of reasoning upon a less hazardous sub-
ject, and thereby obtain a rank with our most
distinguished authors: for among us it is not
necessary, as among the Hottentots, that a youth,
to be raised into the company of men, should
prove his manhood by beating his mother. "t In
the same letter, he asserts his belief of a particu-
lar Providence, which he once so emphatically
announced in the Convention of 17874 At the
close of his life, President Stiles, of Yale, drew§
from him an expression of his religious opinions,
in which he simply announces his belief in the
unity and moral government of the Deity, and
the paramount " system of morals and religion "
of " Jesus of Nazareth," as " the best the world
ever saw, or is likely to see ;" but his interpreta-
tion of what the latter was, would probably have
differed much from that of Dr. Stiles.]

* Bancroft. N. T. Hist. Soc. Lecture, Dec. 9, 1S52.

t Letter. Sparks, x. 2S1.

X " I have lived," said he, in introducing his motion for daily
prayers, "a long time; and the longer i live, the more con-
vincing proofs I see of this truth, that God governs in the
affairs of men. And, if a sparrow cannot fall to the ground
without his notice, is it probable that an empire can rise with-
out his aid?" — Sparks's Life, 514.

§ Letter of Franklin, March 9, 1790. Holmes's Life of Stiles,
809.

1 A single letter in the autobiography betrays Franklin's
mode of thinking and feeling in reference to the Scriptures.
He is speaking of a poetic contest between Ralph and some
others of his companions, and says, of the test proposed: " Wo
excluded all considerations of invention, by agreeing that the
task should bo a review of the eighteenth Psalm, which
describes the descent of a Deity." To no habitually reverent
mind could the use of the indefinite article occur on mention
of that sublime composition. Of his early infidel opinions, ho

no

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

One of his very last acts, on his death-hed, was
to recite to his faithful attendant, Mrs. Hewson,
the daughter of his London landlady, the simple
and elevated verses of good Doctor Watts.*

The compliments to Franklin, the sage, philoso-
pher, politician, would fill a volume. Perhaps
the Latin epigraph, written by the philosopher
Turgot, has been the most productive ever paid :

Eripuit ecelo fulmen Eceptrurnque tyrarmis.+

His portrait is frequently graced with similar
inscriptions, of which the best is that from Horace,
placed by Bishop Shipley in the edition of the
Miscellanies of 1779, Non sordidus auctor Na-
tures Yerique.%

. He was equally admired by peasants and
kings; Louis XV., "the grand monarch," com-
manded a return of his thanks to Mr. Franklin
"for his useful discoveries in electricity ;"§ the
court of Louis XVI., its philosophers, wits, and
ladies of fashion, hailed him with enthusiasm;
Chatham was his eulogist in England, and Wash-
ington in America; he had the best men in both
hemispheres for his friends and correspondents;
towns and counties, and even a state, have been
named after him;| his portrait and bust are
familiar as those of Washington ; "Every penny
stamp," says Robert 0. Winthrop, happily, in his
address, Archimedes and Franldin, "is a monu-
ment to Franklin, earned, if not established by
himself, as the fruit of his early labors and his
signal success in the organization of our infant
post-office." His writings are read with equal
zest, though with different emotions, in childhood
and age — as the old man goes out of the world

Bays, that they were encouraged by the statements of the
defenders of Christianity, the Boyle lecturers; but in such
cases, it is less the argument than the predisposition which
fails to convince.

* Epes Sargent's Memoir of Franklin, 110 ; prefixed to a well
chosen selection of the writings, agreeably presented.

+ This inscription by Turgot, which has been ascribed to
Condorcet and Mirabeau, first appears in the correspondence
of Grimm and Diderot, April, 1778, and has been traced to a
line of the Anti-Lucretius of Cardinal de Polignac, lib. i.,
verse 37, which reads:

Eripuitque Jovi fulmen, Phceboque sagittas:
And thence to Manilins, lib. 1, verse 104, where he says of
Epicurus,

Eripuitque Jovi fulmen, viresque Tonanti.

Notes and Queries, vi. 88.
Taking the laurel from the brow of Epicurus to place it
upon the head of Franklin is not so inappropriate when we
recall the sketch of the former by Lucretius iUxastrans
commoda viiw.
t Ode I. 28.
There is another from Virgil,

Hominum rerumque repcrtor.

jEncid xii.
To the portrait from which our engraving is taken, a medal-
lion in the possession of Dr. Lettsom, published in his life of
Dr. Fothergill, are added these lines :
II a ravi le feu des Cieux
II fait fleurir les Arts en des Climats Sauvages,

L'Amerique le place a la tete des Sages
La Grece l'auroit mis au nombre dc ses Dieux.
There is a common French print of Diogenes with a lantern,
holding a medallion of Franklin, with the inscription,
Stupete gentes reperit virum Diogenes.
§ Franklin's Letter to Jared Eliot, Philadelphia, April 12th,
1753. Sparks, vi. 162.

[ To the town of Franklin, Massachusetts, named after him,
he orders from Paris a gift of books, in preference to the bell
which they had solicited, "sense being preferable to sound.'' —
Letter to Richard Price, Passy, March 18, 1785. Sparks, x. 158.
The Rev. Nath. Emmons, clergyman of the town, preached a
sermon, "The Dignity of Man, :' on the receipt of the gift. The
proposed new State of Franklin, afterwards called Tennessee,
was named after our philosopher.

repeating to the grandchild at the fireside the
apologue of quaint familiar wisdom which he had
learnt in his primer.

The genius of Franklin is omnipresent at Phila-
delphia. It points to his Library, his Philoso-
phical Society, his University, his Hospital, the
Institute. At Boston, his benevolence still lives
in the provisions of his will, his silver medal for
the encouragement of scholarship in the free
grammar schools, in gratitude for his own " first
instructions in literature," and in a fund to be
loaned to young mechanics. At one time it was
thought the influence of Poor Richard had pro-
duced a too general thrift and parsimony: but
these were not the vices of Franklin's instructions,
but the virtues of a young state building up its
fortunes by economy and endurance. Now these
maxims are simply the correctives of rapidly in-
creasing prodigality ; the mottoes and incentives
to honorable toil and frugality throughout the
land. For Franklin having been born in one
part of the country, and found that development
in another which would probably have been
denied him in his birth-place, and having been
employed abroad in the service of several states,
and afterwards in behalf of them all, is properly
the son of the Union and the nation, — and his
life, as his fame, belongs to his country.

For extracts from Franklin's writings, passing
over the scientific portions, as hardly admitting
of separation from the context, and leaving his
political papers for the historian, we may properly
give several of those essays which have chiefly
promoted his popular literary reputation. Of
these the Parable on Persecution has always been
considered one of his most characteristic efforts.
It was his habit to call for a Bible and read it as
a passage of the Old Testament, till it became
public property by its appearance in Lord Karnes's
Sketches of the History of Man, in 1774, where
it appears as "communicated by Benjamin Frank-
lin." Vaughan then placed it in his edition of
Franklin. The apologue was soon discovered in
Jeremy Taylor's Liberty of Prophesying, who
quotes it from "the Jews' books." It then
turned up in the dedication of a book published
at Amsterdam, in 1680, a translation from the
Hebrew into Latin, by. George Gentius, of a work
on the Jewish Calamities. Gentius carries it
back to Sadus, who, it appears, is Saadi, the Per-
sian poet, who, as Lord Teignmouth related to
Bishop Heber, has the story in the second book
of his Bostan; and carrying the antiquity still
further, Saadi says the story was told to him.*

A rAEABLE AGAIXST PEnSECCTION.

1. And it came to pass after these things, that
Abraham 6at in the door of his teat, about the going
down of the sun.

2. And behold a man, bowed with age, came from
the way of the wilderness, leaning on a staff.

3. And Abraham arose and met him, and said unto
him, " Turn in, I pray thee, and wash thy feet, and
tarry all night, and thou shalt arise early on the
morrow, and go on thy way."

* Letter from Franklin to Taughan. Nov. 2, 17S9. Appen-
dix to Priestley's Memoirs, where the Latin of Gentius is given,
376. Heber's Life of Jeremy Taylor, notes. Sparks' s Franklin,
ii. 11S-21.

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.

Ill

4. But the man said, " Nay, for I will abide under
this tree."

5. And Abraham pressed him greatly ; so he
turned, and they went into the tent, and Abraham
baked unleavened bread, and they did eat.

6. And when Abraham saw that the man blessed
not God, he said unto him, " Wherefore dost thou
not worship the most high God, Creator of heaven
and earth ?"

7. And the man answered and said, " I do not
worship the God thou speakest of, neither do I call
upon his name ; for I have made to myself a god,
which abideth alway in mine house, and provideth
me with all things."

8. And Abraham's zeal was kindled against the
man, and he arose and fell upon him, and drove him
forth with blows into the wilderness.

9. And at midnight God called unto Abraham,
saying, " Abraham, where is the stranger ?"

10. And Abraham answered and said, " Lord, he
would not worship thee, neither would he call upon
thy name; therefore have I driven him out from
before my face into the wilderness."

11. And God said, " Have I borne with him these
hundred ninety and eight years, and nourished him,
and clothed him, notwithstanding his rebellion
against me ; and couldst not thou, that art thyself a
sinner, bear with him one night?"

12. And Abraham said, " Let not the anger of the
Lord wax hot against his servant; lo, I have sinned;
lo, I have sinned ; forgive me, I pray thee."

13. And Abraham arose, and went forth into the
wilderness, and sought diligently for the man, and
found him, and returned with him to the tent ; and
when he had entreated him kindly, he sent him
away on the morrow with gifts.

14. And God spake again unto Abraham, saying,
" For this thy sin shall thy seed be afflicted four
hundred years in a strange land ;

15. " But fur thy repentance will I deliver them ;
and they shall come forth with power, and with
gladness of heart, and with much substance."

the ephemera;
an emblem of human life.
To Madame Brillon, of Passy.
Written in 1778.
You may remember, my dear friend, that when
we lately spent that happy day in the delightful
garden and sweet society of the Moulin Joly, I
stopped a little in pne of our walks, and stayed some
time behind the company. We had been shown
numberless skeletons of a kind of little fly, called an
ephemera, whose successive generations, we were
told, were bred and expired within the day. I
happened to see a living company of them on a
leaf, who appeared to be engaged in conversation.
You know I understand all the inferior animal
tongues. My too great application to the study of
them is the best excuse I can give for the little pro-
gress I have made in your charming language. I
listened through curiosity to the discourse of~these
little creatures ; but as they, in their national
vivacity, spoke three or four together, I could make
but little of their conversation. I found, however,
by some broken expressions that I heard now and
then, they were disputing warmly on the merit of
two foreign musicians, one a cousin, the other a
moscheto ; in which dispute they spent their time,
seemingly as regardless of the shortness of life as if
they had been sure of living a month. Happy
people ! thought I ; you are certainly under a wise,
just, and mild government, since you have no public

grievances to complain of, nor any subject of conten-
tion but the perfections and imperfections of foreign
music. I turned my head from them to an old grey-
headed one, who was single on another leaf, and
talkitur to himself. Being amused with his soliloquy,
I put it dow i in writing, in hopes it will likewise
amuse her to whom I am so much indebted for the
most pleasing 'of all amusements, her delicious com-
pany and heavenly harmony.

" It was," said he, " the opinion of learned philoso-
phers of our race, who lived and flourished long
before my time, that this vast world, the Moulin Joly,
could not itself subsist more than eighteen hours ;
and I think there was some foundation for that
opinion, since, by the apparent motion of the great
luminary that gives life to all nature, and which in
my time has evidently declined considerably towards
the ocean at the end of our earth, it must then finish
its course, be extinguished in the waters that sur-
round us, and leave the world in cold and darkness,
necessarily producing universal death and destruc-
tion. I have lived seven of those hours, a great age,
being no less than four hundred and twenty minutes
of time. How very few of us continue so long ! I
have seen generations born, flourish, and expire.
My present friends are the children and grandchil-
dren of the friends of my youth, who arc now, alas,
no more ! And I must soon follow them ; for, by the
course of nature, though still in health, I cannot
expect to live above seven or eight minutes longer.
What now avails all my toil and labor, in amassing
honey-dew on this leaf, which I cannot live to
enjoy! What the political struggles I have been
engaged in, for the good of my compatriot inhabit-
ants of this bush, or my philosophical studies for
the benefit of our race in general ! for, in politics,
what can laws do without morals? Our present
race of ephemera will in a course of minutes become
corrupt, like those of other and older bushes, and
consequently as wretched. And in philosophy how
small our progress! Alas! art is long, and life is
short! My friends would comfort me with the idea
of a name, they say. I shall leave behind me ; and
they tell me I have lived long enough to nature and
to glory. But what will fame be to an ephemera
who no longer exists? And what will become of
all history in the eighteenth hour, when the world
itself, even the whole Moulin Joly, shall come to its
end, and be buried in universal ruin?"

To me, after all my eager pursuits, no solid plea-
sures now remain, but the reflection of a long life
spent in meaning well, the sensible conversation of
a few good lady ephemerae, and now and then a
kind smile and a tune from the ever amiable Bril-
lante.

THE WHISTLE.

To Madame BMlon,

Passy, 10 November, 1779.

I received my dear friend's two letters, one for
Wednesday and one for Saturday. This is again
Wednesday. I do not deserve one for to-day, be-
cause I have not answered the former. But, indo-
lent as I am, and averse to writing, the fear of
having no more of your pleasing epistles, if 1 do not
contribute to the correspondence, obliges me to take
up my pen ; and as Mr. B. has kindly sent me word,
that he sets out to-morrow to see you, instead of
spending this Wednesday evening as I have done its
namesakes, in your delightful company, I sit down
to spend it in thinking of you, in writing to you, and
in reading over and over again your letters.

I am charmed with j'our description of Paradise,
and with your plan of living there; and I approve
much of your conclusion, that, in the mean time, we

112

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

should draw all the good we can from this world.
In my opinion, we might all draw more good from
it than we do, and suffer less evil, if we would take
care not to give too much for whistles. For to me it
seems, that most of the unhappy people we meet
with, are become so by neglect of that caution.

You ask what I mean ? You love stories, and will
excuse my telling one of myself.

When I was a child of seven years old, my friends,
on a holiday, filled my pocket with coppers. I
went directly to a shop where they sold toys for
children ; and, being charmed with the sound of a
whistle, that I met by the way in the hands of
another boy, I voluntarily offered and gave all my
money for one. I then came home, and went
whistling all over the house, much pleased with my
whistle, but disturbing all the family. My brothers,
and sisters, and cousins, understanding the bargain
I had made, told me I had given fjur times as much
for it as it was worth ; put me in mind what good
things I might have bought with the rest of the
money ; and laughed at me so much for my folly,
that I eried with vexation; and the reflection gave
we more chagrin than the whistle gave me pleasure.

This, however, was afterwards of use to me, the
impression continuing on my mind ; so that often,
when I was tempted to buy some unnecessary thing,
1 said to myself, Don't give too much for the whistle;
and I saved my money.

As I grew up, came into the world, and observed
the actions of men, I thought I met with many, very
many, who gave too much for the whistle.

When I saw one too ambitious of court favor,
sacrificing his time in attendance on levees, his
repose, his liberty, his virtue, and perhaps his friends,
to attain it, I have said to myself, This man gives too
much for his whistle.

When I saw another fond of popularity, constantly
employing himself in political bustles, neglecting his
own affairs, and ruining them by that neglect, He
pays, indeed, said I, too much for his whistle.

If 1 knew a miser, who gave up every kind of
comfortable living, all the pleasure of doing good to
others, all the esteem of his fellow-citizens, and the
joys of benevolent friendship, for the sake of accu-
mulating wealth, Poor man, said I, you pay too much
for your whistle.

When I met with a man of pleasure, sacrificing
every laudable improvement of the mind, or of his
fortune, to mere corporeal sensations, and ruining his
health in their pursuit, Mistaken man, said I, you are
providing pain for yourself , instead of pleasure ; you
give too much for your whistle.

If I see one fond of appearance, or fine clothes,
fine houses, fine furniture, fine equipages, all above
his fortune, for which he contracts debts, and ends
his career in a prison, Alas! say I, he has paid dear,
very dear, for his whistle.

When I see a beautiful, sweet-tempered girl mar-
ried to an ill-natured brute of a husband, What
a pity, say I, that she should pay so much for her
whistle !

In short, I conceive that great part of the miseries
of mankind are brought upon them by the false esti-
mates they have made of the value of things, and by
their giving too much for their whistles.

Yet I ought to have charity for these unhappy
people, when I consider, that, with all this wisdom of
which I am boasting, there are certain things in the
world so tempting, for example, the apples of King
John, which happily are not to be bought ; for if
they were put to sale by auction, I might very
easily be led to ruin myself in the purchase, and
find that I had once more given too much for the
whistle.

Adieu, my dear friend, and believe me ever yours
very sincerely and with unalterable affection,

B. Franklin.

DIALOGUE BETWEEN FRANKLIN AND THE GOUT.

Midnight, 22 October, 1780.

Franklin. Eh! Oh I Eh! What have I done to
merit these cruel sufferings?

Gout. Many things ; you have ate and drank too
freely, and too much indulged those legs of yours in
their indolence.

Franklin. Who is it that accuses me ?

Gout. It is I, even I, the Gout.

Franklin. What! my enemy in person ?

Gout. No, not your enemy.

Franklin. I repeat it ; my enemy ; for you would
not only torment my body to death, but ruin my
good name ; you reproach me as a glutton and a
tippler ; now all the world, that knows me, will allow
that I am neither the one nor the other.

Gout. The world may think as it pleases; it is
always very complaisant to itself, and sometimes to
its friends ; but I very well know that the quantity
of meat and drink proper for a man, who takes a
reasonable degree of exercise, would be too much for
another, who never takes any.

Franklin. I take — Eh! Oh! — as much exercise —
Eh ! — as I can, Madam Gout. You know my seden-
tary state, and on that account, it would seem,
Madam Gout, as if you might spare me a little, seeing
it is not altogether my own fault.

Gout. Not a jot ; your rhetoric and your polite-
ness are thrown away; your apology avails nothing.
If your situation in life is a sedentary one, your
amusements, your recreations, at least, should be
active. You ought to walk or ride ; or, if the
weather prevents that, play at billiards. But let us
examine your course of life. While the mornings
are long, and you have leisure to go abroad, what do
you do? Why, instead of gaining an appetite for
breakfast, by salutary exercise, you amuse yourself
with books, pamphlets, or newspapers, which com-
monly are not worth the reading. Yet you eat an
inordinate breakfast, four dishes of tea, with cream,
and one or two buttered toasts, with slices of hung
beef, which I fancy are not things the most easily
digested. Immediately afterward \'ou sit down to
■write at your desk, or converse with persons who
apply to you on business. Thus the time passes till
one, without any kind of bodily exercise. But all
this I could pardon, in regard, as you say, to your
sedentary condition. But what is your practice
after dinner? Walking in the beautiful gardens of
those friends, with whom you have dined, would be
the choice of men of sense ; yours is to be fixed down
to chess, where you are found engaged for two or
three hours! This is your perpetual recreation,
which is the least eligible of any for a sedentary man,
because, instead of accelerating the motion of the
fluids, tlie rigid attention it requires helps to retard
the circulation and obstruct internal secretions.
Wrapt in the speculation's of this wretched game,
you destroy j'our constitution. What can be ex-
pected from such a course of living, but a body
replete with stagnant humors, ready to fall a prey
to all kinds of dangerous maladies, if I, the Gout, did
not occasionally bring you relief by agitating these
humors, and so purifying or dissipating them ? If it
was in some nook or alle}^ in Paris, deprived of
walks, that you played awhile at chess after dinner,
this might be excusable ; but the same taste prevails
with you in Passy, Auteuil, Menmartre, or Sauoy,
places where there are the finest gardens and walks,
a pure air, beautiful women, and most agreeable and

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.

113

instructive conversation; all -which you might enjoy-
by frequenting the walks. But these are rejected
for this abominable game of chess. Fie, then, Mr.
Franklin! But amidst my instructions, I had almost
forgot to administer my wholesome corrections ; so
take that twinge, — and that.

Franklin. Oh! Ehl Oh I Ohhh! As much in-
struction as you please, Madam Gout, and as many
reproaches ; but pray, Madam, a truce with your
corrections !

Gout. No, Sir, no, — I will not abate a particle of
what is so much for your good, — therefore — ■

Feanklin. Oh ! Ehhh ! — It is not fair to say I take
no exercise, when I do very often, going out to dine
and returning in my carriage.

Gout. That, of all imaginable exercises, is the most
slight and insignificant, it' you allude to the motion
of a carriage suspended on springs. By observing
the degree of heat obtained by different kinds of
motion, we may form an estimate of the quantity of
exercise given by each. Thus, for example, if you
turn out to walk in winter with cold feet, in an
hour's time you will be in a glow all over ; ride on
horseback, the same effect will scarcely be perceived
by four hours' round trotting; but if you loll in a
carriage, such as you have mentioned, you may
travel all day, and gladly enter the last inn to warm
your feet by a fire. Flatter yourself then no longer,
that half an hour's airing in your carriage deserves
the name of exercise. Providence has appointed few
to roll in carriages, while he has given to all a pair
of legs, whicli are machines infinitely more commo-
dious and serviceable. Be grateful then, and make
a proper use of yours. Would you know how they
forward the circulation of your fluids, in the very
action of transporting you from place to place ; ob-
serve when you walk, that all your weight is alter-
nately thrown from one leg to the other; this
occasions a great pressure on the vessels of the foot,
and repels their contents; when relieved, by the
weight being thrown on the other foot, the vessels
of the first are allowed to replenish, and, by a return
of this weight, this repulsion again succeeds; thus
accelerating the circulation of the blood. The heat
produced in any given time, depends on the degree
of this acceleration ; the fluids are shaken, the
humors attenuated, the secretions facilitated, and all
goes well ; the cheeks are ruddy, and health is
established. Behold your fair friend at Auteuil;
a lady who received from bounteous nature more
really useful science, than half a dozen such pre-
tenders to philosophy as you have been able to
extract from all your books. When she honors you
with a visit, it is on foot. She walks all hours of
the day, and leaves indolence, and its concomitant
maladies, to be endured by her horses. In this see
at once the preservative of her health and personal
charms. But when you go to Auteuil, you must
have your carriage, though it is no further from
Passy to Auteuil than from Auteuil to Passy.

Franklin. Your reasonings grow very tiresome.

Gout. I stand corrected. I will be silent and con-
tinue my office ; take that, and that.

Franklin. Oh ! Ohh! Talk on, I pray yon!

Gout. No, no ; I have a good number of twinges
for you to-night, and you may be sure of some more
to-morrow.

Franklin. What ! with such a fever ! I shall
go distracted. Oh ! Eh ! Can no one bear it for
me?

Gout. Ask that of your horses ; they have served
you faithfully.

Franklin. How can you so cruelly sport with my
torments?

Gout. Sport! I am very serious. I have here a

-?OL. I. — 8

list of offences against your own health distinctly
written, and can justify every stroke inflicted on
you.

Franklin. Read it, then.

Gout. It is too long a detail; but I will briefly
mention some particulars.

Franklin. Proceed. I am all attention.

Gout. Do you remember how often you have pro-
mised yourself, the following morning, a walk in tho
grove of Boulogne, in the garden de la Muette, or iu
your own garden, and have violated your promise,
alleging, at one time, it was too cold, at another too
warm, too windy, too moist, or what else you
pleased ; when in truth it was too nothing, but your
insuperable love of ease ? ^

Franklin. That I confess may have happened
occasionally, probably ten times in a year.

Gout. Your confession is very far short of the
truth ; the gross amount is one hundred and ninety-
nine times.

Franklin. Is it possible ?

Gout. So possible, that it is fact ; you may rely on
the accuracy of my statement. You know Mr.
Brillon's gardens, and what fine walks they contain;
you know the handsome flight of an hundred steps,
which lead from the terrace above to the lawn
below. You have been in the practice of visiting
this amiable family twice a week, after dinner, and
it is a maxim of your own, that " a man may take
as much exercise iu walking a mile, up and down
stairs, as in ten on level ground." What an oppor-
tunity was here for you to have had exercise in
both these ways! Did you embrace it, and how
often?

Franklin. I cannot immediately answer that
question.

Gout. I will do it for you ; not once.

Franklin. Not once?

Gout. Even so. During the summer you went
there at six o'clock. You found the charming lady,
with her lovely children and friends, eager to walk
with you, and entertain you with their agreeable
conversation ; and what has been your choice ?
Why, to sit on the terrace, satisfying yourself with
the fine prospect, and passing your eye over the
beauties of the garden below, without taking one
step to descend and walk about in them. On the
contrary, you call for tea and the chess-board ; and
lo ! you are occupied in your seat till nine o'clock,
and that besides two hours' play after dinner; and
then, instead of walking home, which would have
bestirred you a little, you step into your carriage;
How absurd to suppose that all this carelessness
can be reconcilable with health, without my inter-
position !

Franklin. I am convinced now of the justness of
poor Richard's remark, that " Our debts and our
sins are always greater than we think for."

Gout. So it is. You philosophers are sages in
your maxims, and fools in your conduct.

Franklin. But do you charge among my crimes,
that I return in a carriage from Mr. Brillon's?

Gout. Certainly ; for, having been seated all the
while, you cannot object the fatigue of the day, and
cannot want therefore the relief of a carriage.

Franklin. What then would you have me do with
my carriage?

Gout. Burn it if you choose; you would at least
get heat out of it once in this way; or, if you dis-
like that proposal, here's another for you ; observe
the poor peasants, who work iu the vineyards and
grounds about the villages of Passy, Auteuil, Chail-
lot, (fcc. ; you may find every day, among these de-
serving creatures, four or five old men and women,
bent and perhaps crippled by weight of years, and

114

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

too long and too great labor. After a most fatiguing
day, these people have to trudge a mile or two' to
their smoky huts. Order your coachman to set them
down. This is an act that will be good for your
soul; and, at the same time, after your visit to the
Brillons, if you return on foot, that will be good for
your body.

Franklin. Ah ! how tiresome you are I

Gout. Well, then, to my office; it should not be
forgotten that I am your physician. There.

Franklin. Ohhh! what a devil of a physician!

Gout. How ungrateful you are to say so ! Is it
not I who, in the character of your physician, have
saved you from the palsy, dropsy, and apoplexy !
one or <^her of which would have done for you long
ago, but fosEme.

Franklin. I submit, and thank you for the past,
but entreat the discontinuance of your visits for the
future; for, in my mind, one had better die than be
cured so dolefully. Permit me just to hint, that I
have also not been unfriendly to you. I never feed
physician or quack of any kind, to enter the list
against you ; if then you do not leave me to my
repose, it may be said you are ungrateful too.

Gout. I can scarcely acknowledge that as any
objection. As to quacks, I despise them; they may
kill you indeed, but cannot injure me. And, as to
regular ph\'8icians, they are at last convinced, that
the gout, in such a subject as you are, is no disease,
but a remedy ; and wherefore cure a remedy ? — but
to our business, — there.

Franklin. Oh ! Oh ! — for Heaven's sake leave
me; and I promise faithfully never more to play at
chess, but to take exercise daily, and live temper-
ately.

Gout. I know you too well. You promise fair ;
but, after a few months of good health, you will
return to your old habits; your fine promises will
be forgotten like the forms of the last year's clouds.
Let us then finish the account, and I will go. But
I leave you with an assurance of visiting you again
at a proper time and place ; for my object is your
good, and you are sensible now that I am your real
friend.

Franklin would hardly have made his title
good in the old literature of New England, if he
had not written verses of some kind. The lines
entitled " Paper" have been so often printed as
his, and are so appropriate to his tastes, that we
may give them a place here, though evidence is
wanting that he wrote them. In the Massachu-
setts Magazine for August, 1794, it is given a3
" written by the late Dr. Franklin," but in the
American Museum of 1788, it is only " ascribed"
to his pen. Mr. Sparks doubts the authorship,
but prints the lines.*

paper; a poem.
Some wit of old, — such wits of old there were, —
Whose hints showed meaning, whose allusions care,
By one brave stroke to mark all human kind,
Called clear blank paper every infant mind ;
Where still, as opening sense her dictates wrote,
Fair virtue put a seal, or vice a blot

The thought was happy, pertinent, and true ;
Methinks a genius might the plan pursue.
I, (can you pardon my presumption ?) I —
No wit, no genius, — yet for once will try.

Various the papers various wants produce,
The wants of fashion, elegance, and use.

* Works, it 1KL

Men are as various ; and, if right I scan,
Each sort of paper represents some man.

Pray note the fop, — half powder and half lace, —
Nice as a band-box were his dwelling-place ;
He's the gilt paper, which apart you store,
And lock from vulgar hands in the 'scrutoire.

Mechanics, servants, farmers, and so forth,
Are copy paper of inferior worth :
Less prized, more useful, for your desk decreed,
Free to all pens, and prompt at every need.

The wretch, whom avarice bids to pinch and
spare,
Starve, cheat, and pilfer, to enrich an heir,
Is coarse brown paper ; such as pedlers choose
To wrap up wares, which better men will use.

Take next the miser's contrast, who destroys
Health, fame, and fortune, in a round of joys.
Will any paper match him ? Yes, throughout,
He's a true sinking paper, past all doubt.

The retail politician's anxious thought
Deems this side always right, and that stark

naught ;
He foams with censure ; with applause he raves, —
A dupe to rumors, and a tool of knaves ;
He'll want no type his weakness to proclaim,
While such a thing as foolscap has a name.

The hasty gentleman, whose blood runs high,
Who picks a quarrel, if you step awry,
Who can't a jest, or hint, or look endure, —
What's he ? What ? Touch-paper to be sure.

What are our poets, take them as they fall,.
Good, bad, rich, poor, much read, not read at all ?
Them and their works in the same class you'll find ;
They are the mere waste-paper of mankind.

Observe the maiden, innocently sweet ;
She's fair white-paper, an unsullied sheet;
On which the happy man, whom fate ordains,
May write his name, and take her for his pains.

One instance more, and only one I'll bring ;
'Tis the great man who scorns a little thing,
Whose thoughts, whose deeds, whose maxims are

his own,
Formed on the feelings of his heart alone ;
True genuine royal paper is his breast ;
Of all the kinds most precious, purest, best.

Of the song of Country Joan, we have the
history in Prof. McVickar's Life of Bard* At a
supper of a convivial club, to which Franklin
belonged, and of which Dr. Bard, the physician
of Washington, was then a member, objection
was made, in jest, to married men being allowed
to sing the praises of poets' mistresses. The
next morning, at breakfast, Bard received the
following song from Franklin, with a request
that he would be ready with it by the next
meeting.

MT PLAIN COr/NTRY JOAN.

Of their Chloes and Phyllises poets may prate,

I sing my plain country Joan,
These twelve years my wife, still the joy of my
life, —

Blest day that I made her my own !

Not a word of her face, of her shape, or her air,
Or of flames, or of darts, you shall hear;

I beauty admire, but virtue I prize,
That fades not in seventy year.

* Domestic Narrative of the Life of Samuel Bard, p. 18.

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.

115

Am I loaded with care, she takes off a large share,
That the burden ne'er makes me to reel ;

Does good fortune arrive, the joy of my wife
Quite doubles the pleasure I feel.

She defends nry good name, even when I'm to
blame,

Firm friend as to man e'er was given ;
Her compassionate breast feels for all the distressed,

Which draws down more blessings from heaven.

In health a companion delightful and dear,

Still easy, engaging, and free ;
In sickness no less than the carefulest nurse,

As tender as tender can be.

In peace and good order my household she guides,

Right careful to save what I gain ;
Yet cheerfully spends, and smiles on the friends

I've the pleasure to entertain.

Some faults have we all, and so has my Joan,

But then they're exceedingly small,
And, now I'm grown used to them, so like my own,

I scarcely can see them at all.

"Were the finest 3Toung princess, with millions in
purse,

To be had in exchange for my Joan,
I eould not get a better, but might get a worse,

So I'll stick to my dearest old Joan.

The verses to the Mother Country have been
assigned to Franklin's second visit to England.

THE MOTHER COUNTRY.

We have an old mother that peevish is grown ;
She snubs us like children that scarce walk alone;
She forgets we're grown up, and have sense of our
own;

Which nobody can deny, deny,
Which nobody can deny.

If we don't obey orders, whatever the ease,
She frowns, and she chides, and she loses all pati-
Ence, and sometimes she hits us a slap in the face ;
Which nobody can deny, ifcc.

Her orders so odd are, we often suspect
That age has impaired her sound intellect ;
But still an old mother should have due respect;
Which nobody can deny, <fce.

Let's bear with her humors as well as we can ;
But why should we bear the abuse of her man ?
When servants make mischief, they earn the rattan ;
Which nobody should deny, <fec.

Know, too, ye bad neighbors, who aim to divide
The sons from the mother, that still she's our pride ;
And if ye attack her, we're all of her Bide;
Which nobody can deny, &c.

We'll join in her law-suits, to baffle all those
Who, to get what she has, will be often her foes;
For we know it must all be our own, when Bhe
goes ;

Which nobody can deny, deny,
Which nobody can deny.

The Mechanic's Song we find attributed to
Franklin, in an old collection of songs, "The
Charms of Melody," in Harvard Library.

THE MECHANIC'S SONG.

Ye merry mechanics come join in my song,

And let your brisk chorus come bounding along;

Tho' some perhaps poor, and some rich there

may be,
Yet all are united, happy and free.

(Chorus) — Happy and free,
Happy and free,
Yet all are united, happy and free.

Ye tailors of ancient and noble renown,
Who clothe all the people in country and town;
Remember that Adam (your father and head)
Tho' the lord of the world, was a tailor by trade.
Happy and free, &c.

Masons who work in stone, mortar and brick,
And lay the foundation deep, solid and thick ;
Tho' hard be your labour, yet lasting your fame,
Both Egypt and China your wonders proclaim.
Happy and free, <fec.

Ye smiths who forge tools for all tradea^Prebelow,
You've nothing to fear while you smite and you

blow ;
All things you may conquer, so happy your lot,
If you are careful to strike while the iron is hot.

Happy and free, (fee.
Ye shoemakers nobly from ages long past,
Have defended your rights with the awl to your

last ;
And cobblers all merry not only stop holes,
But work night and day for the good of our souls,
Happy and free, <fec.

Ye cabinet-makers brave workers of wood,
As you work for the ladies your work must be good ;
Ye joiners and carpenters, far off and near,
Stick close to your trades and you've nothing to
fear.

Happy and free, <fec.

Ye coachmakers must not by tax be control'd,
But ship off your coaches and fetch us some gold ;
The roller of your coach made Copernicus reel,
And foresee the world to turn round like a wheel.
Happy and free, <fec.

Ye hatters who oft with hands not very fair,
Fix hats on a block for blockheads to wear;
Tho' charity covers a sin now and then,
You cover the heads and the sins of all men.
Happy and free, &a.

Ye carders, and spinners, and weavers attend,
And take the advice of poor Richard, your friend ;
Stick close to your looms, to your wheels, and your

card,
And you never need fear of times going hard.
Happy and free, &c.

Ye printers who give us our learning and news,
And impartially print for Turks, Christians, and

Jews;
Let your favorite toast ever sound thro' the streets,
A freedom to press, and a volume in sheets.
Happy and free, &e.

Ye coopers who rattle with driver and adze,
And lather each day upon hoops and on caggs ;
The famous old ballad of " Love in a tub,"
You may sing to the tune of rub-a-dub-dub.
Happy and free, &e.

Ye ship-builders, riggers, and makers of sails,
All read the new Constitution prevails ;
And soon you may see on the proud swelling tide,
The ships of Columbia triumphantly ride.
Happy and free, &c.

Each tradesman turns out with his tools in his hand,
To cherish the arts and keep peace thro' the land ;
Each apprentice and journeyman join in my song,
And let your full chorus come bounding along.
Happy and free, <fcc.

116

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE-

DAVID FEENCH.
John Paeke, in a work to be hereafter noticed,
has " inserted some poetical translations from the
Greek and Latin, which were consigned to obli-
vion, through the obliterating medium of rats and
moths, under the sequestered canopy of an anti-
quated trunk; written between the years of 1720
and 1730, by the learned and facetious David
French, Esq., late of the Delaware counties (now
State)."

Alas ! poor Yorick ! All that we know of the
career of the "learned and facetious" French is
the record of his death, and for that we are in-
debted to»the postscript of a letter, dated August
25, 1742: — "David French was buried yesterday
in Chester church by the side of his father, and
Mr. Moxon succeeds him as prothonotary" (of the
court at New Castle).* His father is stated, by
Mr. Fisher, to have been Colonel John French, a
prominent name in the local history of the lower
counties.

The translations, printed by Parke, are six in
number ; four are from the first, fourth, eleventh,
and twenty-sixth odes of Anacreon, and two from
the elegies of Ovid. The smoothness and ele-
gance of their versification testify to the accom-
plished scholarship of the writer, and make us
regret some evidence of his " facetiousness," as
well as learning, had not turned up in the " anti-
quated trunk."

ODES OF ANACEEON.
L

Fain would I Atride3 praise,
Or Cadmus sing in tuneful lays ;
The strings will sound of love alone,
Nor knows my heart another tone.-
I changed the shell and ev'ry string,
And now Alcides' toils I sing ;
In vain to sing his deeds I strove,
My lyre would play of nought but love.
Ye heroes now a long farewell !
A softer theme best suits my shell,
Love's passion it will only telL

Of Himself.
On a bed of myrtles made,
Or on a greeny clover laid,
Willingly I'd pass away
In carousing — all the day ;
Cupid by my side should stand,
With a brimmer in his hand.
Like a never-standing wheel,
Fleeting time is running still ;
We ourselves will dust become,
And shall moulder in the tomb.
On my grave why should you lay
Oil, or gifts that soon decay \
Rather now before I'm dead,
With rosy garlands crown my head ;
All the odors of the spring,
With a gentle mistress bring,
Ere I go to shades of night,
I'll put all my cares to flight.

On His Age.
Oft by the maidens I am told,
Poor Anacreon, thou grow'st old !

* Early Poets and Poeti-y of Pennsylvania, by J. F. Fisher.
— Pa. Hist. Soc. Mems., vol. ii. part ii. 59.

Take the glass, and see how years
Have despoil'd thy head of hairs;
See, thy forehead bald appears!

But whether hair adorns my head,
Or all my golden tresses fled,
I do not know, but from their lore,
Resounding my approaching hour.
This truth 1 know, infallibly,
'Tis time to live, if death be nigh.

To a Swallow.
Say now, thou twit' ring swallow, say,
How shall I punish thee ? which way ?
Say, shall I rather clip thy wing,
Or tongue, that thou no more mayst sing ?
As cruel Tereus once is said
T have done, while yet thou wert a maid.
Why dost thou, ere the morn is nigh,
Prattling round my window fly?
Why snatch Bathytla from my arms,
Whde I ia dreams possess her charms ?

Of Himself.
When Bacchus revels in my breast,
All my cares are lull'd to rest ;
Crcesus' self I then despise,
He's not so happy in my eyes.
Then from my lips flow warbling sounds,
Sweetest music then abounds :
With laurel wreaths I bind my brow,
I look disdainfully below.
Let fools impetuous rush to arms,
Me the gen'rous Lyteus charms.
Quickly give me, youth, the bowl,
In one large draught I'll drown my soul ;
Here, rather let me drunken lie,
Than sober, without wine to die.

MATHEE BTLES.

Tnis witty divine was born in Boston, 1706. He
was the son of an Englishman, who died a year
after his son's birth. On his mother's side he
was descended from Richard, the founder of the
Mather family, and John Cotton. Leaving Har-
vard in 1725, he was ordained in 1733 the first
pastor of the Hollis Street Church. Here he
remained until the outbreak of the American
Revolution, when, in consequence of his adherence
to the English government, this connexion was
broken off. In 1777 he was denounced in town
meeting, and afterwards tried before a special
court on the charges of having remained in the
town during the sege, prayed for the king, and
received the visits of British officers. He was
convicted, and sentenced to imprisonment with
his family in a guard-ship and to be sent to Eng-
land. The first part of the sentence was changed
to confinement in his own house, and the second
was never put in execution. During this impri-
sonment he amused the good people of Boston by
on one occasion very composedly marching to and
fro before his own door, mounting guard over
himself, having persuaded his sentinel to go on an
errand for him on condition of supplying his
place during his absence. The guard was soon
removed, again restored, and not long after dis-
missed— changes which drew from the doctor the
remark that " he had been guarded, reguarded,
and disregarded." Disregarded he remained, as
he was henceforth suffered to live in retirement.

MATHER BYLES.

117

We have a last glimpse of Dr. Byles in the corres-
pondence of Franklin :

Mather Byles to B. Franklin.

Boston, 14th May, 1787.
Sir,

It is long since I had the pleasure of writing to
you by Mr. Edward Church, to thank you for your
friendly mention of me in a letter that I find was
transmitted to the University of Aberdeen. I doubt
whether you ever received it, but, under great
weakness by old age and a palsy, I seize this oppor-
tunity of employing my daughter to repeat the
thanks, which I aimed to express in that letter.
Your Excellency is now the man, that I early ex-
pected to see you. I congratulate my country upon
her having produced a Franklin, and can only add,
I wish to meet you where complete felicity and we
shall be for ever united. I am, my dear and early
friend, your most affectionate and humble servant,

M. Bvles.

P.S. I refer you to the bearer, Mr. Pierpont, to
inform you how my life, and that of my daughters,
have been saved by your points.

His death occurred some months after in 1788.
He left two daughters, who remained unflinching
loyalists, residing together in their father's house,
on the corner of Nassau and Tremont streets,
which no offer would induce them to part with,
taking their tea off a table at which Franklin
had partaken of the same beverage, blowing
their fire with a bellows two hundred years old,
going to church on Sundays in dresses of the last
century, until 1835, when one of them, as the
story goes, died of grief, as it is supposed, at hav-
ing part of the old family mansion pulled down
for the improvement of the street. The survivor
lived two years longer. Both were unmarried,
and must have attained a good old age, as we find
Dr. Byles's daughters spoken of as a couple of
fine young ladies by the Rev. Jacob Bailey* in
1778.

* Jacob Bailey was born at Rowley, Mass., in 1731. He was
educated at Harvard College, and after visiting England to ob-
tain deacon and priest's orders, became a missionary in Pow-
nalborough, Maine. Adhering to the crown at the revolution,
he retired to Nova Scotia, where the remainder of his life was

Dr. Byles's reputation as a wit has over-
shadowed his just claims to regard as a pulpit
orator. His published sermons, of which several
are extant, some of them having reached a
second and third edition, show him to have pos-
sessed a fine imagination, great skill in amplifica-
tion, and great command of language combined
with terseness of expression. Passages in these
discourses would not do discredit to the best old
English divines. Several were preached on pub-
lic occasions, but are, like all his other discourses,
entirely free from the political allusions in which
his brother clergymen so frequently indulged.
On being asked why he avoided this topic, he re-
plied, " I have thrown up four breast-works,
behind which I have entrenched myself, neither
of which can be forced. In the first place, I do
not understand politics ; in the second place, you
all do, every man and mother's son of you ; in the
third place, you have politics all the week, pray
let one day in seven be devoted to religion ; in
the fourth place, I am engaged in a work of infi-
nitely greater importance : give me any subject
to preach on of more consequence than the truths
I bring you, and I will preach on it the next
sabbath."

In the early part of his life, before and after
his ordination, Dr. Byles wrote and published the
following poems: —

To his Excellency Governor Belcher, on the
Death of his Lady, an Epistle. 1736, pp. 4.

On the Death of the Queen, a Poem. 1738,
pp.7.

An Elegy addressed to his Excellency Governor
Belcher, on the Death of his Brother-in-law, the
Hon. Daniel Oliver, Esq. ; pp. 6.

The Comet, 1744, pp. 4.

The Conflagration, the God of Tempest, and
Earthquake, pp. 8.

A portion of these were collected, with several
others, in a small 18mo. volume of 118 pages,* in
1736, with the following brief

Preface. The Poems collected in these pages,
were, for the most part, written as the amusements
of looser hours, while the author belonged to the
college, and was unbending his mind from severer
studies in the entertainment of the classics. Most
of them have been several times printed here, at
London, and elsewhere, either separately or in mis-
cellanies : and the author has now drawn them into
a volume. Thus he gives up at once these lighter
productions, and bids adieu to the airy Muse.

The poems are for the most part devotional or
elegiac, including several hymns, verses written
in Milton's Paradise Lost, To the Memory of a
Young Commander slain in a battle with the
Indians 1724, To an Ingenious Young Gentleman
on his dedicating a poem to the author, To Pic-
torio on the sight of his pictures, and verses to
Watts and others.

He also contributed a number of essays and
occasional verses to the New England Weekly

passed. His MS. Journal, with a portion of his corrospondenco,
edited by the Eev. Wm. J. Bartlet of Chelsea, Mass., was pub-
lished by the Protestant Episcopal Historical Society, in an
octavo volume in 1S53. Mr. Bartlet has incorporated tho
Journal in a biosraphy of its author, in which ho has intro-
duced a large mass of interesting historical Information.

* Poems on Several Occasions. By Mr. Byles. Boston,
1736.

118

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Journal. In 1744, A Collection of Poems by
Several Hands* appeared in Boston. It is a
capital miscellany of verses, which seem to have
been floating about in periodicals or manuscript
at the period. Byles no doubt contributed some
of its fifty-five pages, but none of his productions
are pointed out in a copy now in the possession
of Mr. George Ticknor,t which bears on its title
the inscription, "Th. Byles, Given her by her
Father, Feb. 14, 1763," and contains several
annotations in the handwriting of the original
donor or owner. It is, however, easy to fix upon
him the courtly answer to the following compli-
mentary request, in which the blanks have been
carefully filled up with the name of Byles.

TO ********* DESIRING TO BOEEOW POPE'S HOMER.

From a Lady.

The Muse now waits from * * * 's hands to press
Homer's high page, in Pope's illustrious dress :
How the pleas'd goddess triumphs to pronounce,
The names of * * *, Pope, Homer, all at once I

The Answer.

Soon as your beauteous letter I peruse,
Swift as an echo flies the answ'ring muse;
Joyful and eager at your soft commands,
To bring my Pope submissive to your hands.

Go, my dear Pope, transport th' attentive fair,

And soothe, with winning harmony, her ear.

'Twill add new graces to thy heav'nly song,

To be repeated by her gentle tongue;

Thy bright'ning page in unknown charms shall grow,

Fresh beauties bloom, and fire redoubled glow ;

With sounds improv'd, thy artful numbers roll,

Soft as her love, and tuneful as her soul:

Old Homer's shade shall smile if she commend,

And Pope be proud to write, as * * * * to lend.

It also contains a long and pleasantly written
poem on Commencement Day, and a few bur-
lesque ballads probably written by Byles or Joseph
Green. One of these is as follows.

A FULL AND TRUE ACCOUNT OF HOW THE LAMENTABLE WICKED
FRENCH AND INDIAN PIRATES "WEEE TAKEN BT THE VALIANT
ENGLISHMEN.

Good people all, pray understand

my doleful song of wo:
It tells a thing done lately, and

not very long ago.

How Frenchmen, Indians eke, a troop
(who all had drunk their cogues)

They went to take an English sloop:
0 the sad pack of rogues!

The English made their party good,

each was a jolly lad:
The Indians run away for blood,

and strove to hide like mad.

Three of the fellows in a fright,

(that is to say in fears)
Leaping into the sea out-right,

sows'd over head and ears.

They on the waves in woful wise,
to swim did make a strife,

* A Collection of Poems. By Several Hands. Boston :
Printed and Sold by B. Green and Company, at their Printing
House in Newbury-street ; and D. Gookin, in Cornhill. 1744
4to. pp. 56.

T This, with other rarities of the kind, has been liberally
plaeed at our disposal by Mr. Ticknor.

[So in a pond a kitten cries,
and dabbles for his life ;

While boys about the border scud,
with brickbats and with stones;

Still dowse him deeper in the mud;
and break his little bones.]

What came of them we cannot tell,

though many things are said:
But this, besure, we know full well,

if they -were drown'd they're dead.

Our men did neither cry nor squeek;

but fought like any sprites :
And this 1 to the honour speak

of them, the valiant wights I

O did I not the talent lack,

of 'thaniel Whittemore ;
Up to the stars — i' th' almanack,

I'd cause their fame to roar.

Or could I sing like father French,

so clever and so high;
Their names should last like oaken bench,

to perpetuity.

How many pris'ners in they drew,

say, spirit of Tom Law !
Two Frenchmen, and papooses two,

three sannops, and a squaw.

The squaw, and the papooses, they

are to be left alive :
Two French, three Indian men must die:

which makes exactly five.

[Thus cypher, Sirs, you see I can,

and eke make poetry;
In commonwealth, sure such a man,

how useful must he be!]

The men were all condemn'd, and try'd,

and one might almost say,
Theyl or be hang'd, or be repriev'd,

or else they'l run away.

Fair maidens, now see-saw, and wail,

and sing in doleful dumps ;
And eke, ye lusty lubys all,

arise and stir your stumps.

This precious po'm shall sure be read,

In ev'ry town, I tro :
In every chimney corner said,

to Portsmouth, Boston fro.

And little children when they cry,

this ditty shall beguile ;
And tho' they pout, and sob, and sigh,

shall hear, and hush, and smile.

The pretty picture too likewise,

a-top looks well enough ;
Tho' nothing to the purpose 'tis,

'twill serve to set it off.

The poet will be glad, no doubt,

when all his verse shall say,
Each boy, and girl, and lass, and lout,

for ever, and for aye.

The collection also contains a number of eulo-
gies, which show that Byles was in high favor in
Boston. His reputation was not, however, con-
fined to his own town or country, as he corres-
ponded with Lansdowne, Watts, and Pope, the
latter of whom sent him his Odyssey.

The Doctor was an inveterate punster. The
Rev. Jacob Bailey, the Missionary at Pownal-
borough, before the Revolution, says of him, after
a visit to his house, in 1778 : " The perpetual

MATHER BYLES.

119

reach after puns renders his conversation rather
distasteful to persons of ordinary elegance and
refinement." And Mr. Kettell* quotes some
contemporary verses to the same effect :

There's punning Byles provokeB our smiles,

A man of stately parts.
He visits folks to crack his jokes,

Which never mend their hearts.

With strutting gait and wig so great,

He walks along the streets;
And throws out wit, or what's like it,

To every one he meets.

The latter part of his parody of Joseph Green's
parody on his psalm, shows that he was occasion-
ally coarse in his jesting; hut we have never
heard any indelicacy or irreverence alleged against
him.

The anai which have heen preserved, show
that, his reputation a> a wit was well deserved.
There was a slough opposite his house, in which,
on a certain wet day, a chaise containing two of
the town council stuck fast. Dr. Byles came to
his door, and saluted the officials with the remark,
" Gentlemen, I have often complained to you of
this nuisance without any attention being paid to
it, and I am very glad to see you stirring in this
matter now."

In the year 1780, a very dark- day occurred,
which was long remembered as " the dark day."
A lady neighbor sent her son to the Doctor to
know if lie could tell her the cause of the
obscurity. " My dear," was the answer to the
messenger, " give my compliments to your mother,
and tell her that I am as much in the dark as
she is."

One day a ship arrived at Boston with three
hundred street lamps. The same day, the Doctor
happened to receive a call from a lady whose
conversational powers were not of the kind to
render a long interview desirable. He availed
himself of the newly arrived cargo to despatch
his visitor. " Have you heard the news ?" said
he, with emphasis. " Oh, no ! What news ?"
" Why three hundred new lights have come over
in the ship this morning from London, and the
selectmen have wisely ordered them to be put in
irons immediately." The visitor forthwith
decamped in search of the particulars of this inva-
sion of religious liberty.

When brought before his judges at the time of
his trial they requested him to sit down and
warm himself. "Gentlemen," was the reply,
" when I came among you, I expected persecu-
tion; but I could not think you would have
offered me the fire so suddenly."

A mot of Byles's is related by the hospitable
wits of Boston, to the visitor, as he passes by
King's Chapel, in Tremont street. There are two
courses of windows by which that building is
lighted on its sides; the lower ones are nearly
square. In allusion to this architectural pecu-
liarity of the square embrasures of its solid walls,
Byles said that he had often heard of ecclesiasti-
cal canons, but never saw the portholes before,
flhother, a revolutionary witticism, does justice

* Specimens of American Poetry, i. 125.
twa are indebted for a few capital examples, to Tudor's Life
of Otia.

to Byles's toryism. When the British troops, the
lobsters, passed his door, after entering the town :
" Ah," said he, " now our grievances will be red-
dressed." *

His system of practical joking is said to have
been as felicitous as his verbal, though rather
more expensive to the victims.

The Doctor, however, occasionally met his
match. A lady whom he had long courted
unsuccessfully, married a gentleman by the name
of Quincy. " So, madam," said the unsuccess-
ful suitor, on meeting her afterwards, " it appears
you prefer a Quincy to Byles." " Yes, for if there
had been anything worse than Mies, God Would
have afflicted Job with them."

He was not, however, always unsuccessful with
the fair sex, as he was twice married. His first
wife was a niece of Governor Belcher, and her
successor, the dignity apparently diminishing
with the relationship, a daughter of Lieutenant-
Governor Tailer.

In person Dr. Byles was tall and well propor-
tioned. His voice was powerful and melodious,
and he was a graceful and impressive speaker.

FEO.M A SERMON ON TIIE PRESENT V1LEXESS OF THE BODY, AND
ITS FUTUEE GLOElOUS CHANGE HY CHEIST.

It is a dying body, and therefore a vile Body.
Here our Bodies now stand, perhaps nourishing m
all the Pride and Bloom of Youth : strong our
jSinews ; moist our Bones; active and supple our
Joints; our Pulses beating with Vigor, and our
Hearts leaping with a Profusion of Life and Energy.
But oh! vain Appearance and gaudy Dream! Surely
every man at his best Estate, is altogether Vanity.
He walks in a vain show, he glitters with delusive
Colors; he spends his years as an Idle Tale. What
avails it, that he is now hardy and robust, who must
quickly pant upon a Death-bed. What avails it,
that his limbs are sprightly in their easy Motions,
which must quickly stretch in their dying Agony.
The Lips now fiush'd with a Rosy Colour, will anon
quiver and turn pale. The Eyes that rose with a
sparkling Vivacity, will fix in a ghastly Horror.
The most musical Yoice will be stopp'd; and the
tuneful Breath fly away. The Face where Beauty
now triumphs, will appear cold, and wan, and dis-
mal, rifled by the Hand of Heath. A cold sweat
will chill the Body ; a hoarse Rattling will fill the
Throat; the Heart will heave with Pain and Labour,
and the Lungs catch for Breath, but gasp in vain.
Our Friends stand in Tears about our Bed. They
weep; but they cannot help us. The very water
with which they would co'ol and moisten our parched
Mouths, we receive with a hollow groan. Anon we
give a Gasp, and they shriek out in Distress, " Oh!
He's Gone! He's Dead!" The Body in that Instant
stretches on the sheets, an awful Corpse.

*****

It is folded in a Winding Sheet, it is nailed in a
black Coffin, and it is deposited in a silent Vault,
amidst Shade and Solitude. The skin breaks and
moulders away ; the Flesh drops in Dust from the
Bones; the Bones are covered with black Mould,
and Worms twist about them. The Coffins break,
and the Graves sink in, and the disjointed Skeleton
strews the lonely Vault.

*****

But oh! what a blessed Change will the Resur-

* "On my return to Boston." says John Adams, in his Auto-
biography of the year 1768, "I found the town full of troops,
and as Dr. Byles of punning memory expressed it, our griev-
ances red-dressed." Adams's Works, ii. 213.

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CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

reetion make upon our dead Bodie;. Perhaps the
Worms have feasted themselves upon our Last Dust ;
but they 6hall refund it, and give back every Atom ;
all that really belc ngs to our numerical Body.
The Fishes perhaps have eaten the Carcase, buried
in the Waves, and Lost in the Depths of the Ocean.
But the sea also shall return it back, and give up
the Dead which are in it. These Bodies may dis-
solve, and scatter among the Elements. Our Eluids
may forsake their Vessels ; the bolid contract, and
fold up in its primitive Miniature. And even after
that the little invisible Bones may moulder to finer
Dust, the Dust may refine to Water, wander in a
Cloud, float in a River, or be lost in the wide Sea,
and undistinguished Drop among the Waves. They
may be again sucked up by the Sun, and fall in a
Shower upon the Earth ; they may refresh the
Fields with Dew, flourish in a Spire of Grass ; look
green in a Leaf, or gaudy in a Flower or a Blossom.

THE EHTTEEFLY, A TYPE OF THE EESU ERECTION I FROM THE
MEDITATION OF CASSI3I, THE SON OF AIIilED. AN ESSAY.

What more entertaining specimen of the Resur-
rection is there, in the whole Circumference of
Nature ? Here are all the wonders of the Day in
Miniature. It was once a despicable Worm, it is
raised a kind of painted little Bird. Formerly it
crawled along with a slow and leisurely Motion :
now it flutters aloft upon its guilded Wings. How
much improved is its speckled Covering, when all
the Gaudiuess of Colour is scattered about its
Plumage. It is spangled with Gold and Silver, and
has every Gem of the Orient sparkling among its
Feathers. Here a brilliant spot, like a clear Dia-
mond, twinkles with an unsullied Flame, and trem-
bles with num'rou3 Lights, that glitter in a gay
Confusion. There a Saphire casts a milder Gleam,
and shew3 like the blue Expanse of Heaven in a
fair Winter Evening. In this Place an Emerald, like
the calm Ocean, displays its cheerful and vivid Green.
And close by a Ruby — flames with the ripened
Blush of the Morning. The Breast and Legs, like
Ebony, shone with a glorious Darkness ; while its
expanded Wings are edged with the gulden Mag-
nificence of the Topaz. Thus the illustrious little
creature is furnished with the diviuest Art, and
looks like an animated composition of Jewels, that
blend their promiscuous Beams about him. Thus,
O C'assim, shall the Bodies of Good Men be raised;
thus shall they shine, and thus fly away.

FEOM THE CONFLAGRATION.

But 0 ! what sounds are able to convey
The wild confusions of the dreadful day!
Eternal mountains totter on their base,
And strong convulsions work the valley's face ;
Fierce hurricanes on sounding pinions soar.
Rush o'er the land, on the toss'd billows roar,
And dreadful in resistless eddies driven,
Shake all the crystal battlements of heaven.
See the wild winds, big blustering in the air,
Drive through the forests, down the mountains tear,
Sweep o'er the valleys in their rapid course,
And nature bends beneath the impetuous force.
Storms rush at storms, at tempests tempests roar,
Dash waves on waves, and thunder to the shore.
Columns of smoke on heavy wings ascend,
And dancing sparkles fly before the wind.
Devouring flames, wide-waving, roar aloud,
And melted mountains flow a fiery flood :
Then, all at once, immense the fires arise,
A bright destruction wraps the crackling skies ;
While all the elements to melt conspire,
And the world blazes in the final fire.

Yet shall ye, flames, the wasting globe refine,

And bid the skies with purer splendour shine,
The earth, which the prolific fires consume,
To beauty burns, and withers into bloom ;
Improving in the fertile flame it lies,
Fades into form, and into vigour dies:
Fresh-dawning glories blush amidst the blaze,
And nature all renews her flowery face.
With endless charms the everlasting year
Rolls round the seasons in a full career ;
Spring, ever-blooming, bit's the fields rejoice,
And warbling birds try their melodious voice;
Where'er she treads, lilies unbidden blow,
Quick tulip3 rise, and sudden roses glow:
Her pencil paints a thousand beauteous scenes,
Where blossoms bud amid immortal greens;
Each stream, in mazes, murmurs as it flows,
And floating forests gently bend their boughs.
Thou, autumn, too, sitt'st in the fragrant shade,
While the ripe fruits blush all around thy head:
And lavish nature, with luxuriant hands,
All the soft mouths, in gay confusion blends.

NEW ENGLAND HTMN.

To Thee the tuneful Anthem soars,
To Thee, our Fathers' God, and our's ;

This wilderness we chose our seat:
To rights secured by equal laws
From persecution's iron claws,

We here have sought our calm retreat.

See ! how the Flocks of Jesus rise !
See ! how the face of Paradise

Blooms through the thickets of the wild
Here Liberty erects her throne ;
Here Plenty pours her treasures down ;

Peace smiles, as heavenly cherubs mild.

Lord, guard thy Favors : Lord, extend
Where farther Western Suns descend ;

Nor Southern rieas the blessings bound;
Till Freedom lift her cheerful head,
Till pure Religion onward spread,

And beainii:g wrap the world around.

JOSEPH GREEK

Joseph Gp.eex, who, during the greater part of a
long lifetime, maintained the reputation of being
the foremost wit of his day, was born in Boston,
in 1706, and took his degree at Harvard, at the
age of twenty. He next engaged in business as
a distiller,* and continued in mercantile pursuits
for many years, thereby amassing a large fortune.
Without taking a prominent part in politics, his
pen was always ready when any occasion for
satire presented, to improve it for the columns of
the contemporary press, or the separate venture

p^ fijzttt

of a pamphlet. These effusions were in smoothly
written verse, and are full of humor. One of the
most prominent is, Entertainment for A Win-
ter's Evening : being a full and true Account of a
very strange and wonderful Sight seen in Boston,
on the twenty-seventh of December, 1749, at noon
day, the truth of which can be attested by a great
number of people, who actually saw the same
with their own eyes, by me, the Hon, B. B. Esq.
This long title is a prelude to a poem of sorw
dozen loosely printed octavo pages only, in which
the celebration of a masonic festival in a church

* "Ambition fired the 'stiller's pate.'' — Jfyles.

JOSEPH GREEN.

121

is satirized : the procession to the place of assem-
blage; the sermon heard; the adjournment to a
tavern, and the junketing which followed, being
the subject matter, the writer evidently regarding
a place of public worship as an incongruous loca-
lity for such an assemblage. It is thus summed
up in the opening lines: —

O Muse renowu'd for story-telling,

Fair Clio, leave thy airy dwelling.

Now while the streams like marble stand,

Held fast by winter's iey hand ;

Now while the hills are eloth'd in snow ;

Now while the keen north- west winds blow;

From the bleak fields and chilling air

Unto the warmer hearth repair:

Where friends in cheerful circle met

In social conversation sit.

Come, goddess, and our ears regale

With a diverting Christmas talc.

0 come, and in thy verse declare

Who were the men, and what they were,

And what their names, and what their fame,

And what the cause for which they came

To house of God from house of ale,

And how the parson told his tale :

How they return'd, in manner odd,

To house of ale from house of God.

Another of his poems is, A Mournful Lamen-
tation for the Death of Mr. Old Tenor, written
after a change in the currency. Ho was also a
contributor with Byles, and others, to "A Collec-
tion of Poems, by several hands," published at
Boston, in 1744. An Elegy on the long-expected
death of Old Janus (the New England Weekly
Courant) is no doubt from the pen of one of the
two wits, whose productions it is not always easy
to distinguish, and whose talents were combined
in a wit combat which excited much merriment
at the time. Itarose from the desire of Governor
Belcher to secure the good company of Dr. Byles
in a visit by sea to some Indian tribes on the
eastern coast of the province. Byles declined his
invitation, and the Governor set sail from Boston,
alone, on a Saturday, dropping anchor before the
castle in the bay, for Sunday. Here he per-
suaded the chaplain to exchange pulpits with the
eloquent Doctor, whom he invited on board in
the afternoon, to tea. On leaving the cabin at
the conclusion of the repast, he found himself, to
his surprise, at sea, with a fair wind, the anchor
having been weighed while he was talking over
the cheering cup. Return was out of the ques-
tion, and the Doctor, whose good-natured counte-
nance seems to indicate that he could take as well
as give a joke, no doubt made himself contented
and agreeable. On the following Sunday, in pre-
paring for divine service, it was found that there
was no hymn-book on board, and to meet the
emergency, Byles composed a few verses. On
their return Green wrote an account of this im-
promptu, with a parody upon it, to which Byles
responded, by a poem and parody in return. The
whole will be found at the conclusion of this
article.

Green's satire was universally directed against
arbitrary power, and in favor of freedom. He
frequently parodied the addresses of Governor
Belcher, who, it is supposed, stood in some awe
of his pen. In 1774, after the withdrawal of the
charter of Massachusetts by the British Parlia-

ment, the councillors of the province were ap-
pointed by the crown, instead of as heretofore
being chosen by popular election. One of these
appointments was tendered to Green, but imme-
diately declined by him. He did not, however,
take any active part on the popular side, the quiet,
retiring habit of his mind, combining with the
infirmities of his advanced years, as an induce-
ment to repose. In 1775 he sailed for England,
where he passed the remainder of his life in a
secluded but not inhospitable retirement. He died
in 1780. A humorous epitaph written on Green
by one of his friends, in 1743, indicates the popu-
lar appreciation of his talents :

Siste Viator, here lies one.
Whose life was whim, whose soul was pun,
And if you go too near his hearse,
He'll joke you, both in prose and verse.

HYMN WRITTEN DURING A VOTAGF.

Great God thy works our wonder raise ;

To thee our swelling notes belong ;
While skies and winds, and rocks and seas,

Around shall echo to our song.

Thy power produced this mighty frame,

Aloud to thee the tempes-s roar,
Or softer breezes tune thy name

Gently along the shelly shore.

Round thee the scaly nation roves,
Thy opening hands their joys bestow,

Through all the blushing coral groves,
These silent gay retreats below.

See the broad sun forsake the skies,

Glow on the waves and downward glide.

Anon heaven opens all its eyes,

And star-beams tremble o'er the tide.

Each various scene, or clay or night,

Lord ! points to thee our nourish'd soul;

Thy glories fix our whole delight;
So the touch'd needle courts the pole.

In David's Psalms an oversight

Byles found one morning at his tea,

Alas ! that lie should never write
A proper psalm to sing at sea.

Thus ruminating on his seat.

Ambitious thoughts at length prevailM.
The bard determined to complete

The part wherein the prophet fail'd.

He sat awhile and stroke 1 his muse,*
Then taking up lib tuneful pen,

Wrote a few stanzas for the use
Of his seafaring brethren.

The task perform'd, the bard content,
Well chosen was each flowing word;

On a short voyage himself he went,
To hear it read and sung on board.

Most serious Christians do aver,
(Their credit sure we may rely on.)

In former times that after prayer,
They used to sing a song of Zion.

Our modern parson hnvinff pray'd.
Unless loud fame our faith beguiles,

Sat down, took out his book and said,
"Let's sing a psalm of Mather Byles."

* Byles's favorite cat, so named by his friends.

122

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

At first, when he began to read,

Their heads the assembly downward hung.
But he with boldness did proceed,

And thus he read, and thus they sung.

THE PSALM.

"With vast amazement we survey

The wonders of the deep,
"Where mackerel swim, and porpoise play,

And crabs and lobsters creep.

Fish of all kinds inhabit here,

And throng the dark abode.
Here haddock, hake, and flounders are,

And eels, and perch, and cod.
From raging winds and tempests free,

So emoothly as we pass,
The shining surface seems to be

A piece of Bristol glass.
But when the winds and tempests rise.

And foaming billows swell,
The vessel mounts above the skies,

And lower sinks than helL

Our heads the tottering motion feel,

And quickly we become
Giddy as new-dropp'd calves, and reel

Like Indians drunk with rum.

"What praises then are due that we

Thus far have safely got,
Amarescoggin tribe to see,

And tribe of Penobscot.

PARODY BY MATHER BYLES.

In Byles's works an oversight

Green spy'd, as once hesmok'd his chunk;
Alas! that Byles should never write

A song to sing, when folks are drunk.

Thus in the chimney on his block,

Ambition fir'd the 'stiller's pate ;
He summon'd all his little stock,

The poet's volume to complete.

Long paus'd the lout,' and Bcratch'd his skull,
Then took his chalk [he own'd no pen,]

And scrawl'd some doggrel, for the whole
Of his flip-drinking brethren.

The task perform'd — not to content-—
111 chosen was each Grub-street word ;

Strait to the tavern club he went,
To hear it bellow'd round the board.

Unknown delights his ears explore,

Inur'd to midnight caterwauls,
To hear his hoarse companions roar,

The horrid thing his dulness scrawls.

The club, if fame we may rely on,
Conven'd, to hear the drunken catch,

At the three-horse-shoes, or red lion —
Tipling began the night's debauch.

The little 'stiller took the pint

Full fraught with flip and songs obscene, .
And, after a long stutt'ring, meant

To sing a song of Josy Green.

Soon as with stam'ring tongue, to read

The drunken ballad, he began,
The club from clam'ring strait recede,

To hear him roar the thing alone.

With vast amazement we survey

The can so broad, so deep,
Where punch succeeds to strong sangree,

Both to delightful flip.

Drink of all smacks, inhabit here,

And throng the dark abode ;
Here's rum, and sugar, and small beer,

In a continual flood.

From cruel thoughts and conscience free,

From dram to dram we pass:
Our cheeks, like apples, ruddy be ;

Our eyeballs look like glass.

At once, like furies up we rise,

Our raging passions, swell ;
We hurl the bottle to the skies,

But why, we cannot tell.

Our brains a tott'ring motion feel,

And quickly we become
Sick, as with negro steaks,* and reel

Like Indians drunk with rum.

Thus lost in deep tranquillity,

We sit, supine and sot,
Till we two moons distinctly see —

Come give us t'other pot.

Dr. Byles's cat, alluded to in the piece just quot-
ed, received the compliment of an elegy at her
decease, which is stated, in an early manuscript
copy in the Philadelphia library, to be written
by Joseph Green. The excellence of the lines
will, perhaps, embalm grimalkin in a more than
Egyptian perpetuity, and give her claim to rank,
at a humble distance, with the great ones of her
race : " Tyb our cat," of Gammer Gurton's Needle,
the sportive companion of Montaigne in his tower,t
and the grimalkin who so demurely graces the
top of the great arm-chair of the famous Dr. Syn-
tax. Our copy is taken from the London Maga-
zine of November, 1733, where it is introduced
by a request for its insertion by a subscriber, and
is accompanied by the psalm and parodies already
quoted.

THE POET'S LAMENTATION FOR THE LOSS OF niS CAT, WHICH
HE USED TO CALL HIS MUSE.

Felis qujpdam delirium erat cujnsdam Adolescentis.

^Esop.

Oppress'd with grief in heavy strains I mourn
The partner of my studies from me torn.
How shall I sing? what numbers shall I chuse ?
For in my fav'rite cat I've lost my muse.
No more I feel my mind with raptures fir'd,
I want those airs that Puss so oft inspir'd;
No crowding thoughts my ready fancy fill,
Nor words run fluent from my easy quill ;
Yet shall my verse deplore her cruel fate,
And celebrate the virtues of my cat.

In acts obscene she never took delight ;
No caterwauls disturb'd our sleep by night ;
Chaste as a virgin, free from every stain,
And neighb'ring cats mew'd for her love in vain.

She never thirsted for the chickens' blood ;
Her teeth she only used to chew her food ;
Harmless as satires which her master writes,
A foe to scratching, and unused to bites,
She in the study was my constant mate ;
There we together many evenings sat.
Whene'er I felt my tow'ring fancy fail,
I stroked her head, her ears, her back, and tail ;

• This, savs an original note appended.to the poem, alludes
to what passed at a convivial club to which Mr. Green be-
longed, where steaks cut from the rump of a dead negro wore
imposed on the company for beef, and when the imposition was
discovered a violent expectoration ensued,
t As Montaigne playing with bis cat,
Complains she thought him but an ass.

Hudibras, pt. t ft i. v. 8S-9.

JOHN CALLENDER.

123

And as I stroked improv'd my dying song
From the sweet notes of her melodious tongue :
Her purrs and mews so evenly kept time,
She purr'd in metre, and she mew'd in rhyme.
But when my dulness has too stubborn prov'd,
Nor could by Puss's music be remov'd,
Oft to the well-known volumes have I gone,
And stole a line from Pope or Addison.

Ofttiines when lost amidst poetic heat,
She leaping on my knee has took her seat ;
There saw the throes that rock'd my lab' ring brain,
And lick'd and claw'd me to myself again.

Then, friends, indulge my grief, and let me mourn,
My cat is gone, ah ! never to return.
Now in my stud}', all the tedious night,
Alone I sit, and unassisted write;
Look often round (0 greatest cause of pain),
And view the num'rous labors of my brain ;
Those quires of words array'd in pompous rhyme,
Which braved the jaws of all-devouring time,
Now undefended and unwatch'd by cats,
Are doom'd a victim to the teeth of rats.

Green, like Byles, and almost all men of true
humor, could pass from gay to grave with grace
and feeling. The Eclogue Sacred to the Memory
of the Rev. Jonathan Mayhem* which is attri-
buted to him, amply meets the requirements of its
occasion. It is fully described in the prefatory
argument.

" Fidelio and Duleius, young men of a liberal
education, who maintained a great esteem and
affectionate regard for the deceased, were sepa-
rated from each other for several years. Fidelio,
after a long absence, pays an early visit to Du-
leius, his friend and former companion, whom he
finds in his bower, employed in study and con-
templation. Their-meeting begins with mutual
tokens of love and affection ; after which they
enter into a discourse expressing the beautiful
appearance of the summer season, and their ad-
miration of the works of Providence ; represent-
ing, at the same time, the beautiful but short-
lived state of the flowers ; from whence Fidelio
takes occasion to draw a similitude typical of the
frailty and uncertainty of human life ; he observes
the stalk of a vine which has been lately struck
by thunder. This providential event reminds
Fidelio of the afflictive dispensation of the law of
God in the death of a late useful and worthy pas-
tor, which he reveals to his companion. They,
greatly dejected, bewail the loss of so trusty, use-
ful, and worthy a man, but mutually console each
other, by representing the consummate happiness
which saints enjoy upon their admission to the
mansions of immortal felicity. They conclude
with an ode, expressing a due submission to the
will of Heaven."

We quote this conclusion.

ODE.

Parent of all! thou source of light!
Whose will seraphic powers obey,
The heavenly Nine, as one unite,
And thee their vow'd obeisance pay.

* An Eclogue Sacred to the Memorv of the- Rev. Dr. .Jona-
than Mayhew, who departed this life July 9, auno salutis bu-
inaua; 1766, ajtatis 46.

The wise, the just, the pious, and the brave,
Live in their deaths, and flourish in the grave,
Grain hid in earth repays the peasant's care,
And evening suns but rise to set more fair.
Boston : printed by Thomas and John Fleet

Permit us, Lord, to consecrate
Our first ripe fruits of early days,
To thee, whose care to us is great,
Whose love demands our constant praise.

Thy sovereign wisdom form'd the plan,
Almighty power, which none control ;
Then rais'd this noble structure, man,
And gave him an immortal souL

All earthly beings here who move,
Experience thy paternal care,
And feel the influence of thy love,
Which sweetens life from year to year.

Thou hast the keys of life and death,
The springs of future joys and bliss ;
And when thou lock'st our door of breath,
Frail life and all its motions cease.

Our morn of years which smile in bloom,
And those arriv'd at eve of age,
Must bow beneath thy sovereign doom,
And quit this frail, this mortal stage.

In all we see thy sovereign sway,
Thy wisdom guides the ruling sun ;
Submissive, we thy power obey,
In all we own " thy will is done."

0 may our thoughts superior rise,
To things of sense which here we crave;
May we with care that int'rest prize,
Which lies so far beyond the grave.

Conduct us safe through each event,
And changing scene of life below;
Till we arrive where days are spent
In joys which can no changes know.

Lord, in thy service us employ,

And when we've served thee here on earth

Receive us hence to realms of joy,

To join with those of heavenly birth.

May we from angels learn to sing,
The songs of high seraphic strain ;
Then mount aloft on cherubs' wings,
And soar to worlds that cease from pain.

With angels, seraphs, saints above,
May we thy glorious praise display
And sing of thy redeeming love,
Through the revolves of endless day.

JOHN CALLENDER.
John Cai.len'dei;, the first historian of Ehode
Island, was born in Boston in the year 1706. He
entered Harvard at the age of thirteen, and gra-
duated in 1723. In 1727 he was licensed to

preach by the first Baptist Church in Boston, of
which his uncle, Elisha Callender, was pastor,
having succeeded Ellis Callender, the grandfather
of the subject of this sketch, in the same office.
In August, 1728, he accepted a call to the Baptist
church in Swansey, Massachusetts, where he re-
mained until February, 1730. He was next after
settled over the first Baptist church at Newport,
where he continued until his death, after a lin-
gering illness, January 26, 1748. Soon after his
removal to Newport he became a member of a
literary and philosophical society established in
the place, at the instigation, it is supposed, of
Dean Berkeley, in 1730, afterwards incorporated
in 1747, with the title, in consequence of the dona-

124

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

tion of five hundred pounds sterling by Abraham
Redwood, of " the Company of the Redwood
Library."

In 1739 Mr. Callender published An Histo-
rical Discourse on the civil and religious affairs
of the Colony of Rhode Island and Providence
Plantations, in New England, in America, from
the first settlement, 1638, to the end of the first
century. It was delivered on the twenty -fourth
of March, 1738, the first centennial anniversary
of the cession of Aquedneck or Rhode Island by
the sachems Cannonicus and Miantunnomu, "unto
Mr. Coddington and his friends united unto him."*
It occupies one hundred and twenty octavo pages
in the reprint by the Rhode Island Historical
Society, and contains a concise and temperate
statement of the difficulties with the Massachu-
setts colonists which led to the formation of the
settlement, its early struggles, its part in King
Philip's war, and of its social and ecclesiastical
affairs. He dwells with just satisfaction on the
liberal principles of the colony.

I do not know there was ever before, since the
world came into the Church, such an instance, as
the settlement of this Colony and Island. In other
States, the civil magistrate had for ever a public
driving in the particular schemes of faith, and modes
of worship ; at least, by negative discouragements,
by annexing the rewards of honor and profit to his
own opinions ; and generally, the subject was bound
by penal laws, to believe that set of doctrines, and
to worship God in that manner, the magistrate
pleased to prescribe. Christian magistrates would
unaccountably assume to themselves the same autho-
rity in religious affairs, which any of the Kings of
Judah, or Israel, exercised, either by usurpation, or
by the immediate will and inspiration of God, and a
great deal more too. As if the becoming Christian
gave the magistrate any new right or authority over
his subjects, or over the Church of Christ; and as if
that because they submitted personally to the autho-
rity and government of Christ in Ins word, that
therefore they might clothe themselves with his au-
thority; or rather, take his sceptre out of his hand,
and lord it over God's heritage. It is lamentable
that pagans and infidels allow more liberty to Chris-
tians, than they were wont to allow to one another.
It is evident, the civil magistrate, as such, can have
no authority to decree articles of faith, and to deter-
mine modes of worship, and to interpret the laws of
Christ for his subjects, but what must belong to all
magistrates ; but no magistrate can have more autho-
rity over conscience, than what is necessary to pre-
serve the public peace, and that can be only to pre-
vent one sect from oppressing another, and to keep
the peace between them. Nothing can be more evi-
dently proved, than " the right of private judgment
for every man, in the affairs of his own salvation,"
and that both from the plainest principles of reason,
and the plainest declarations of the scripture. This
is the foundation of the Reformation, of the Christian
religion, of all religion, which necessarily implies
choice and judgment. But I need not labor a point,
that has been so often demonstrated so many ways.
Indeed, as every man believes his own opinions the
best, because the truest, and ought charitably to wish
all others of the same opinion, it must seem reason-
able the magistrate should have a public leading in
religious affairs, but as he almost for ever exceeds
the due bounds, and as error prevails ten times more

* Deed of Conveyance.

than truth in the world, the interest of truth and the

right of private judgment seem better secured, by a
j universal toleration that shall suppress all profane-

ness and immorality, and preserve every party in the
I free and "undisturbed liberty of their consciences,

while they continue quiet and dutiful subjects to the

State.

Callender published a sermon in the same year
at the ordination of Mr. Jeremiah Condy, to the
i care of the Baptist Church in Boston, in 1741, on
the advantages of early religion, before a society
of young men at Newport, and in 1745 on the
death of his friend the Rev. Mr. Clap. He also
formed a collection of papers relative to the his-
tory of the Baptists in America.

Callender was married February 15, 1730, to
Elizabeth Hardin of Swnnsey, Massachusetts. He
is described as of medium stature, with regular
features, a fair complexion, and agreeable man-
ners.

The Centennial Discourse was reprinted in
1838, a century after its first publication, by the
Rhode Island Historical Society, with a large
number of valuable notes by the Vice-President
of the association, the Rev. Romeo Elton, D.D.,
of Brown University. It contains a memoir,
which has formed the chief authority of the
present article.

JANE TURELL.
Jane, the only daughter of the Rev. Benjamin
Colman, of Boston, was born in that city, Febru-
ary 25, 1708. She early displayed precocious
mental power, as before her second year she
could speak distinctly, say her letters, and tell
stories out of the Scripturesjfto the satisfaction
of Gov. Dudley, and others around the table,*
and two years later could repeat the greater part
of the Assembly's Catechism, many of the psalms,
long passages of poetry, reading with fluency and
commenting in a pertinent manner on what she
read. At the age of eleven she composed the
following

I fear the great Eternal One above;
The God of Grace, the God of love:
He to whom Seraphims Hallelujah sing,
And Angels do their Songs and Praises bring
Happy the Soul that does in Heaven rest,
Where witli his Saviour he is ever blest;
AVith heavenly joys and rapture is possest,
No thoughts but of his God inspire his breast.
Happy are they that walk in Wisdom's ways,
That tread her path, and shine in all her rays.

Her poetical attempts were encouraged by her
father, who frequently addressed rhymed letters
to her, and says : '' I grew by degrees into such
an opinion of her good taste, that when she put
me upon translating a psalm or two, I was ready
to excuse myself, and if I had not fear'd to dis-
please her, should have denied her request." He
" talked into her all he could, in the most free
and endearing manner," and led her to the study
of the best models of composition, advantages of
which she availed herself with sucli avidity that
she spent entire nights in reading, and before the

* Tin-ell's Memoir.

JANE TURELL.

125

age of eighteen had devoured all the English
poetry and prose in her father's well furnished
library.

She married the Rev. Ebenezer Turell, of Med-
ford, Mass., August 11th, 172(5. She continued
to compose in verse, and wrote, after her mar-
riage, eulogies on Sir Richard Blackmore's Works,
and on " the Incomparable Mr. Waller ;" An
Invitation into the Country in Imitation of
Horace, and some prose pieces. Her health had
been from her infancy extremely delicate, and she
died March 26th, 1735, at the early age of twenty-
seven years. Her poems were in the same year
collected, and published by her husband.*

AN INVITATION INTO THE COTTNTEY, IN IMITATION OF TIOHACE.

From the soft shades, and from the balmy sweets
Of Medford's flowery vales and green retreats,
Your absent Delia to her father sends,
And prays to see him ere the Summer ends.

Now while the earth 's with beauteous verdure
dyed,
And Flora paints the meads in all her pride ;
While laden trees Pomona's bounty own,
And Ceres' treasures do the fields adorn,
From the thick smokes, and noisy town, O come,
And in these plains awhile forget your home.

Though my small incomes never can afford,
Like wealthy Celsus to regale a lord ;
No ivory tables groan beneath the weight
Of sumptuous dishes, served in massy plate:
The forest ne'er was seareh'd for food for me,
Nor from my hounds the timorous hare does flee:
No leaden thunder strikes the fowl in air,
Nor from my shaft the winged death do fear:
With silken nets I ne'er the lakes despoil,
Nor with my bait the larger fish beguile.
No luscious sweetmeats, by my servants plae'd
In curious order, e'er my table grac'd;
To please the taste, no rich Burgundian wine,
In chrystal glasses on my sideboard shine;
The luscious sweets of fair Canary's isle
Ne'er filled my casks, nor in my flagons smile:
No wine, but what does from my apples flow,
My frugal house on any can bestow :
Except when Caesar's birthday does return,
And joyful fires throughout the village burn ;
Then moderate each takes his cheerful glass,
And our good wishes to Augustus pass.

But though rich dainties never spread my board,
Nor my cool vaults Calabrian wines afford ;
Yet what is neat and wholesome I can spread,
My good fat bacon and our homely bread,
With which my healthful family is fed.
Milk from the cow, and butter newly churn'd,
And new fresh cheese, with curds aud cream just

turn'd.
For a dessert upon my table 's seen
The golden apple, and the melon green;
The blushing peach and glo3sy plum there lies.
And with the mandrake tempt your hands and eyes.

These I can give, and if you '11 here repair,
To slake your thirst a cask of Autumn beer,
Reserv'd on purpose for your drinking here.

Under the spreading elms our limbs we'll lay,
While fragrant Zephyrs round our temples play.
Retir'd from courts and crowds, secure we '11 set,

* Memoir* of the Life find Death of the Pious and Ingenious
Mrs. Jane Turell, who expired at Medford, March 26, 1735,
-Stat. 27, chiefly collected from her own manuscripts. Boston,
N.E.. 1735.

And freely feed upon our country treat.
No noisy faction here shall dare intrude,
Or once disturb our peaceful solitude.

No stately beds my humble roofs adorn
Of costly purple, by carved panthers borne ;
Nor can I boast Arabia's rich perfumes,
Diffusing odors through our stately rooms.
i For me no fair Egyptian plies the loom,
But my fine linen all is made at home.
Though I no down or tapestry can spread,
A clean soft pillow shall support your head,
Fill'd with the wool from off my tender sheep,
On which with ease and safety you may sleep,
The nightingale shall lull you to your rest,
Aud all be calm aud still as is your breast.

TO MY MTTSE, DEC. 29, 1725. AGED 17 YEAES.

Come, Gentle Muse, and once more lend thine Aid;

O bring thy Succour to a humble Maid !

How often dost thou liberally dispense

To our dull Breast thy quickming Influence !

By thee inspir'd, I'll cheerful tune my Voice,

And Love and sacred Friendship make my Choice.

In my pleas'd Bosom you can freely pour,

A greater Treasure than Jove's Golden Shower.

Come now, fair Muse, and fill my empty mind,

With rich Ideas, gre:it and unconfin'd;

Instruct me in those secret Arts that lie

Unseen to all but to a Poet's Eye.

0 let me burn with Sappho's noble Fire,

But not like her for faithless man expire ;

And let me rival great Orinda's Fame,

Or like sweet Philomela's be my name.

Go lead the way, my Muse, nor must you stop,

'Till we have gain'd Parnassus' shady Top;

'Till I have viewed those fragrant soft Retreats,

Those fields of Bliss, the Muse's saered Seats.

I'll then devote thee to fair Virtue's Fame,

And so be worthy of a Poet's name.

The Rev. Ebenezer Turell, a member of the
class of 1721, of Harvard, was ordained in 1724,
and continued minister of Medford until his death,
December 5, 1778, at the age of seventy-six. Ho
published the life of Dr. Colman in 1749, and
left, in manuscript, an account of a supposed case
of witchcraft, which he exposes in an ingenious
and sensible manner. This he accompanies with
some advice touching superstitious practices in
vogue, in which he says :

Young people would do wisely now to lay aside
their foolish books, their trifling ballads, and all
romantic accounts of dreams and trances, senseless
palmistry and groundless astrology. Don't so much
as look into these tilings. Read those that are use-
ful to increase you in knowledge, human and divine,
and which are more entertaining to an ingenious
mind. Truth is the food of an immortal souL Feed
not any longer on the fabulous husks of falsehood.
Never use any of the devil's playthings; there aro
much better recreations than legerdemain tricks.
Turn not the sieve, &c, to know futurities ; 'tis one
of the greatest mercies of heaven that we are igno-
rant of them. You only gratify Satan, and invite
him into your company to deceive you. Nothing
that appears by this means is to be depended on.

The horse-shoe is a vain thing, and has no natural
tendency to keep off witches or evil spirits from tho
houses or vessels they are nailed to. If Satan should
by such means defend you from lesser dangers, 'tis
to make way for greater ones, and get fuller pos-
session of your hearts. 'Tis an evil thing to hang
witch papers on the neck for the cure of the agues,
to biud up the weapon instead of the wound, and

126

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

many things of the like nature, whi^h some in the
world are fond of.

JOHN SECCOMB.
John Seccomb, a descendant of Richard Sec-
comb, who settled in the town of Lynn, was a son
of Peter Seccomb, of Medford, Mass., where he
was born in April, 1708. He was graduated at
Harvard College, in 1728. In 1733 he was
ordained minister of the town of Harvard. He
appears to have discharged the duties of his
office acceptably up to the period of his resigna-
tion in 1757. He became, about six years after,
the minister of a dissenting congregation in Ches-
ter, Nova Scotia, where he remained until his
death in 1792.

He published an Ordination Sermon in Nova
Scotia, and a Discourse on the Funeral of the
Consort of Jonathan Belcher.* Father Abbey's
Will was sent out to England by Governor Bel-
cher, and published both in the Gentleman's Maga-
zine and European Magazines in May, 1732. It
was reprinted in the Massachusetts Magazine for
November, 1794, with a notice attributing the
authorship to John Seccomb. A correspondent
having disputed the statement, and asserted that
the production belonged to the Rev. Joseph Sec-
comb, of Kingston, N. H., the editor of the Maga-
zine wrote as follows.

From Thaddeus Mason, Esq., of Cambridge, the
only surviving classmate and very intimate friend of
the Rev. John Seccombe, the public may be assured
the he, the long reputed, was the real author. His
brother Joseph, though a lively genius, never pre-
tended to write poetry ; but Mr. Mason was fur-
nished with several poetical effusions of his class-
mate's. They commenced an early correspondence.
And through this channel flowed many a tuneful
ditty. One of these letters, dated " Cambridge,
Sep. 27, 1728," the editor has before him. It is a
most humorous narrative of the fate of a goose
roasted at " Yankee Hastings," and it concludes with
a poem on the occasion, in the mock heroic. # * si-
Mr. Mason wonders there have been any doubts re-
specting the real author of this witty production.
He is able and ready, were it necessary, to give
more circumstantial, explicit, and positive evidence
than the present writing.

The editor of a recent reprint of Father
Abbey's Will, though unable to trace the " mock
heroic," gives us a pleasant account of the pos-
sible previous history of its savory subject.

We know not what has become of the letter or of
the " mock heroic," and we cannot speak with cer-
tainty of the circumstances to which they owed
their origin. But the following facts may shed
some light thereon. The author resided in Cam-
bridge after he graduated. In common with all
who had received the degree of Bachelor of Arts,
and not that of Master of Arts, he was called " Sir,"
and known as " Sir Seccomb." In the autumn after

* A Sermon preached at Halifax, July 8, 17T0, at the Ovdina-
tioD of the Rev. Bruin Romcas Comingoe, to the Dutch Cal-
vinistic Presbyterian Congregation, at Lunenburg, by John
Seccomb, of Chester, A.M., being the first preached in the
province of Nova Scotia, on 6uch an occasion, to which is
added an Appendix. Halifax : A. Henry. 1770. A Sermon
occasioned by the Death of the Honorable Abigail Belcher,
late consort of Jonathan Belcher, Esq., late Lt. Gov. and
Com. in Chief, and His Majesty's present Ch. J. of his pro-
vince of Nova Scotia, del. at Halifax, in thosaid province, Oct.
20, 1771, by John Seccomb, of Chester, A.M., with an Epistle
by Mather" Byles, D.D. Boston : T. & J. Fleet

his graduation, several geese disappeared at different,
times from Cambridge Common. The loss occasioned
great discomfort to the owner. Some of the " Sirs,"
as well as undergraduates were arraigned before
the college government. At length several of them
were fined seven shillings apiece for being privy to
and taking the " third" goose, and one of them was
fined three shillings more for " lying" about it. On
the morning of Nov. 28, 1728, the sentence was an-
nounced. This was done in the college hall, after
the reading and before the prayer, and a suitable
amount of admonition was given against the im-
moralities condemned. The rogues were required to
indemnify the owner, and the one who first proposed
to steal the first goose, and being concerned in steal-
ing and eating the "three .geese taken on the Com-
mon," was sent from college. How much this had to
do with the inspiration of the letter and the " mock
heroic" is not known ; but the writer was a " Sir," and
without doubt was well acquainted with the facts
in the case.

Father Abbey was Matthew Abdy. He was
born about 1650, the son of a fisherman who
lived about Boston harbor, and, according to the
record in President Leverett's Diary, was "ap-
pointed sweeper and bed-maker upon probation,"
Feb. 19, 1718. By another College authority
we find that he also held the responsible office of
bottle-washer, as Tutor Flint in his private Diary
and Account-book, writes :

May 25, 1725, Paid Abdy 3sh., for washing a
groce of Bottles.

A second entry on the subject suggests some
doubts of his faithfulness :

April 10th, 1727. Abdy washed 10 doz. and 5
bottles as he says, tho' w'n he brought them up
he reckoned but 9 doz. and 1, at 4d. pd down.
Total, 3sh. 8d.

In the third and last, there is no question
raised :

April 27, 1730. Paid Abdy 4sh., for washing
a groce of bottles.

Abdy, and his wife Ruth, were baptized and
admitted to church membership in Cambridge,
February 25, 1727-8. Ruth, after the death of
Matthew, remained a widow, unmoved by the
passionate strains of Seccomb's second poem.
The Boston Evening Post of Monday, December
13, 1762, contains her obituary.

Cambridge, Dec. 10. Yesterday died here in a
very advanced age Mrs. Abdy, Sweeper for very
many years at Harvard College, and well known to
all that have had an education here within the
present century. She was relict of Matthew Abdy,
Sweeper, well known to the learned world by his
last Will and Testament.

The Cambridge City Records give her age as 93.
Father Abbey's Will and the Letter to his
Widow have been published in a single sheet
broadside, and have been recently reprinted with
notice of all the persons and places concerned in
the matters which partake largely of the wit
of their subject, by John Langdon Sibley, of
Harvard, in the Cambridge Chronicle of 1854.

FATHEB ABBEY'S WTLL'

To which is now added, a letter of Courtship to his virtuous
and amiable Widow.

Cambridge, December, 1730.
Some time since died here, Mr. Matthew Abbey,
in a very advanced age : He had for a great number

JOHN SECCOMB.

127

of years served the College in quality of Bedmaker
and Sweeper : Having no child, his wife inherits his
whole estate, which he bequeathed to her by his last
will and testament, as follows, viz. :

rrO my dear wife

J. My joy and life,

I freely now do give her,

My whole estate,

With all my plate,
Being just about to leave her.

My tub of soap,

A long cart rope,
A frying pan and kettle,

An ashes pale,

A threshing flail,
An iron wedge and beetle.

Two painted chairs,

Nine warden pears,
A large old dripping platter,

This bed of hay,

On which I lay,
An old saucepan for butter.

A little mug,

A two quart jug,
A bottle full of brandy,

A lpoking glass

To see your face,
You'll find it very handy.

A musket true,

As ever flew,
A pound of shot and wallet,

A leather sash,

My calabash,
My powder horn and bullet.

An old sword blade,

A garden spade,
A hoe, a rake, a ladder,

A wooden can,

A close-stool pan,
A clyster-pipe and bladder.

A greasy hat,

My old ram cat,
A yard and half of linen,

A woollen fleece,

A pot of grease,
In order for your spinning.

A small tooth comb,

An ashen broom,
A candlestick and hatchet,

A coverlid,

Strip'd down with red,
A bag of rags to patch it.

A ragged mat,

A tub of fat,
A book put out by Bunyan,

Another book

By Robin Cook,
A skein or two of spunyarn.

An old black muff,

Some garden stuff,
A quantity of borage,

Some devil's weed,

And burdock seed,
To season well your porridge.

A chafing dish,
"With one salt fish,
If I am not mistaken,

A leg of pork,
A broken fork,
And half a flitch of bacon.

A spinning wheel,

One peck of meal,
A knife without a handle,

A rusty lamp,

Two quarts of samp,
And half a tallow candle.

My pouch and pipes,

Two oxen tripes,
An oaken dish well carved,

My little dog,

And spotted hog,
With two young pigs just starved.

This is my store,

I have no more,
I heartily do give it,

My years are spun,

My days are done,
And so I think to leave it.

Thus father Abbey left his Bpouse,
As rich as church or college mouse,
Which is sufficient invitation,
To serve the college in his station.

Newhaven, January 2, 1731.
Our sweeper having lately buried his spouse,
and accidentally hearing of the death and will of his
deceased Cambridge brother, has conceived a violent
passion for the relict. As love softens the mind and
disposes to poetry, he has eas'd himself in the
following strains, which he transmits to the charm-
ing widow, as the first essay of his love and court-
ship.

MISTRESS Abbey
To you I fly,
You only can relieve me,
To you I turn,
For you I burn,
If you will but believe me.

Then gentle dame,

Admit my flame,
And grant me my petition,

If you deny,

Alas ! I die,
In pitiful condition.

Before the news

Of your dear spouse
Had reach'd us at Newhaven,

My dear wife dy'd,

Who was my bride,
In anno eighty-seven.

Thus being free,

Let's both agree
To join our hands, for I do

Boldly aver

A widower
Is fittest for a widow.

You may be sure

Tis not your dow'r
I make this flowing verse on ;

In these smooth lays

I only praise
The glories of your person.

For the whole that

Was left by Mat.

Fortune to me has granted

128

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

In equal store,
I've one thing more
Which Matthew long had wanted.

No teeth, 'tis true

You have to shew,
The young think teeth inviting.

But, silly youths !

I love those mouths
"Where there's no fear of bitirg.

A leaky eye,

That's never dry,
These woful times is fitting.

A wrinkled face

Adds solemn grace
To folks devout at meeting.

[A furrowed brow,

Where corn might grow,
Such fertile soil is seen in't,

A long hook nose,

Tho' scorn'd by foes,
For spectacles convenient,]*

Thus to go on

I would put down
Your chai ms from head to foot,

Set all your glory

In verse before ye,
But I've no mind to do't.

Then haste away,

And make no stay ;
For soon as you come hither,

We'll eat and sleep,

Make beds and sweep
And talk and smoke together.

But if, my dear,

I must move there,
Tov/rds Cambridge straight I'll eet mo

To touse the hay

On which you lay,
If age aud you will let me.

A clever imitation of Father Abbey's Will,
entitled " Ned Wealthy's Last Will and Testa-
ment," appears in the London Magazine fpr
August, 1734. It copies the incongruous asso-
ciations with some coarse additions, but must
yield in humor to the original.

Since all men must

Return to dust,
From which they first did spring :

I give my gear,

From debts quite clear
In mariner following.

But lest hot broils,

And endless toils,
'Bout my effects arise ;

Half to my Sue,

Half to my Prue,
I frankly here devise.

Mv thrice sol'd shoes,

My Sunday hose,
A jacket made of leather ;

An old straw bed ,

That serv'd poor Ned.
In boisterous stormy weather, &c.

* "W*e think this stanza may be an interpolation. It is
fmnd in the London Magazine; but not in the Gentleman's
Magazine or on tho Broadside."

JOHN BETEEIDGE.

John Beveeidge, the author of a volume of Latin
verses, was a native of Scotland, where he com-
menced las career as a schoolmaster in Edinburgh.
One of his pupils was the blind poet Blacklock, to
whom he afterwards addressed some English
lines, in which he gives the motives which in-
duced him to attempt poetry, with a Latin trans-
lation of his friend's version of the 101th Psalm.

In 1752 he removed to New England, where he
remained five years, and became intimate with
Dr. Mayhew and other leading men of that city.
In 1758 he was appointed Professor of Languages
in the college and academy of Philadelphia.
Alexander Graydon,* who was one of his pupils,
says "he retained the smack of his vernacular
tongue in its primitive purity," and has preserved
the memory, in his Memoirs, of some schoolboy
anecdotes which show that he was a poor disci-
plinarian. One of the larger boys once pulled off
his wig under pretence of brushing off a fly from
it, and a still greater liberty was indulged in one
afternoon, by suddenly closing the door and win-
dows and pelting the master with dictionaries.
"This most intolerable outrage," says Graydon,
" had a run of several days, and was only put a
stop to by the vigorous interference of the faculty."
Beveridge, " diminutive in his stature, and neither
young nor vigorous," being unable to 'administer
corporal punishment efficient^', " after exhausting
himself in the vain attempt to denude the delin-
quent, was generally glad to compound for a
few strokes over his clothes, on any part that was
accessible."

Beveridge pnbli>hed, in 1765, a collection of
Latin poems, Epistoloa Familiares et alia qvcedam
miscellanea.^ The book is dedicated in Latin to
the provincial dignitaries, Penn, Allan, Hamilton,
Smith, and Alison. Next follow lines by A.
Alexander,! " On Mr. Beveridge's Poetical Per-
formances"— a few of which we quote.

* Graydon's Memoiis, 35. Graydon also went to school to
another writer of some note in his day, David James Dove.
Dove sadly belied his name, his chief reputation being that of
a savage satirist. Hewashornin England, and it is said figures
in a book mentioned in Eoswell's Johnson, "The Life and Ad-
ventures of the Chevalier Taylor.1' Dove was English teacher
in the Philadelphia Academy, but; quarrelling with the trustees,
took charge of the Germantown Academy on its organization
in 1762. He soon got into a quarrel here also, and started an
opposition school in a house which he built on an adjoining
lot. The enterprise shortly fell through.

Dove applied his humor to the management of his school as
well as to the composition of his satires. "His birch," says
Graydon, " was rarely used in canonical method, but was gene-
rally stuck into the back part of the collar of the unfortunate
culprit, who, with this badge of disgrace towering from his nape
like a broom at the mast-head of a vessel for sale, was com-
pelled to take his stand upon the top of the form, for such a
period of time as his offence was thought to deserve." Boys
who were late in appearing in the morning were waited upon
by a deputation of scholars and escorted with bell and lighted
lantern through the streets to school. He was once late himself,
and submitted with a good grace to the same attentions, which
his pupils did not lose an opportunity of bestowing.

Dove's satires have passed away with the incidents and per-
sonages which gave them birth. They appeared in the peri-
odicals of the day.

+ Epistolae Familiares et Alia qujednm miscellanea. Familiar
Epistles, and other Miscellaneous Pieces — wrote originally in
Latin verse. By John Beveridge, A.M., Professor of Langua-
ges in the Academy of Philadelphia. To which are added
several translations into English verse, by different Hands, &c.
Philadelphia, printed for the Author by William Bradford,
1765, 88 8vo. pages, 16 of which are closely printed.

t Alexander, a fine classical scholar, was appointed a tutor in
the college after he was graduated, but, becoming involved in
pecuniary embarrassments, quitted the city soon after entering
upon his duties.— Fisher's Early Poets of Pa.

JOHN BEViiRIDGK

129

If music sweet -delight your ravish'd ear,

No music's sweeter than the numbers here.

In former times fam'd Maro smoothly sung,

But still he warbled in his native tongue ;

His tow'ring thoughts and soft enchanting lays

Long since have crown'd him with immortal bays;

But ne'er did Maro such high glory seek

As to excel Mseonides in Greek.

Here you may view a bard of modern time,

Who claims fair Scotland as his native clime,

Contend with Flaccus on the Eoman Lyre,

His humour catch and glow with kindred fire.

When some gay rural landscape proves his theme,

Some sweet retirement or some silver stream;

Nature's unfolded in his melting song,

The brooks in softer murmurs glide along,

The gales blow gentler thro' the nestling trees,

More aromatic fragrance fills the breeze:

Tiber, the theme of many a bard's essay,

Is sweetly rival'd here in Casco Bay.

The epistlea are forty-six in number, two of
■which are in English. The forty-third is ad-
dressed, " Ad praicellentiss. Tho. Penn. Pennsyl-
vania Proprietarium, seu (Latine) Dominum." Of
the two in English the second is addressed to
Thomas Blacklock, " the celebrated blind poet,
who was taught his Latin by the author," as he
informs us in a note. The first is so pleasantly
written that it will bear quotation in part.

TO ********.

Dear Sir, methinks I see you smile,
To find the muse does you beguile,
Stealing upon you by a wile.

And in a dress unusual ;
Know then she's fond, in her new cloth,
To visit you and madam both :
Then treat her kindly, she is loath

To meet with a refusal.

In the enjoyment of your wife,
She wishes long and happy life,
Secure from trouble, care, and strife,

And then a generation
Of boys and girls ; a hopeful race,
Their aged parents' crown and grace;
Skilful in war, and when 'tis peace

The glory of their n^ion.

May never want your steps pursue,
Nor watchful care contract your brow :
The horn of plenty be your due.

With health and skill to use it.
No narrow views debase your soul ;
May you ne'er want a cheerful bowl,
To treat a friend, and cares controul;

But yet do not abuse it.

Improve the days that are serene ;
Make hay while yet the sun doth shine,
Twill not avail you to repine ;

Take care lest here you blunder.
You can't recall the by-past hours,
The present time is only yours;
The warmest day brings quickest show'rs,

And often, too, with thunder.

And storms will happen ; when 'tis so,
Low'r down the sails and let 'em blow :
Or guard yourself at least from woe,

By yielding to the billows.
Tempests will rend the stubborn oak,
The tallest pines are soonest broke,
And yield beneath the furious stroke

Which never hurts the willows.
vol. r. — 9

Tho' sometimes they may make you smart,
Take curtain lectures in good part ;
I think philosopher thou art,

And know'st how to improve them.
The doctor's pills, altho' they're bitter,
And maj7 at present raise a spl — r,
Yet as they tend the health to better,

We take, but do not love them.

Now to your fair I this would say :
As 's heart you stole away, —

" Stole! No, dear Sir, he gave it."
— Weil, giv'n or stol'n I'll not contend,
And here will let that matter end;

But next contrive to save it.

I mean to save it for yourself,
Or else the cunning, wayward elf,

Perchance may sometimes wander.
Unjustly all our nymphs complain
Their empire holds too short a reign,

Yet do not at this wonder.

If you your empire would maintain,
Use the same arts that did it gain,

Success will never fail you.
At ev'ry trifle scorn offence,
Which shows great pride or little sense, *

And never will avail you.

Shun av'rice, vanity, and pride ;
High titles, empty toys deride,

Tho' glitt'ring in the fashions.
You're wealthy if you are content,
For pow'r, its amplest best extent,

Is empire o'er the passions,

'Tis not on madam's heavenly face,
His ever constant love he'll place ;

Oidy consult your glasses :
For beauty, like the new blown flow'r,
Lives but the glory of an hour,

And then forever passes.

The graces of your mind display,
When transient beauties fly away,

Than empty phantoms fleeter*
Then as the hours of life decline,
You like the setting sun shall shine,

With milder raj's and sweeter.

The translations are thus apologetically intro-
duced : " The Editor begs a little indulgence for
them, as they are all (except Dr. Mayhew's and
Mr. Morton's,) done by students under age ; and
if the Critic will only bear with them, till their
understandings are mature, I apprehend they are
in a fair way of doing better." Several are by

Thomas Coombe, A. Alexander, A. B., and T

II , student in philosophy; W J ■, N/.

Evans, A. M., and Stephen Watts,* contribute one
or two each. Maybe w furnishes two, the first of
which trips oft' pleasantly :

Dear Thomas, of congenial soul,
My first acquaintance in the school ;
With whom I oft have worn away,
In mirthful jests the loit'riug day.
Treading the dialectic road
Of major, minor, figure, mood.

* Watts published, at an early age, an " Essay on the Advan-
tages of a Perpetual Union between Great Britain and her
Colonies," which was received with great favor. He after-
wards removed to Louisiana, where he married a daughter of
the Spanish Governor. — Fither's Early Poets of Pa,

130

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

THOMAS COOMBK.
Thomas Coombe, who first appears in our litera-
ture as a translator of some of his teacher Beve-
ridge's Latin poems, was a native of Philadelphia,
and after concluding his course at the College,
studied theology, and visiting England to take
orders, was on his return appointed an assistant
minister of Christ Church. He sided with the
liberal part}- at the outbreak of the Revolution,
but disapproving of the separation from England,
joined after that event the tory party. He was,
in 1777, banished with others, by the legislature,
to Staunton, Virginia, but was allowed on the
score of sickness to remain. He soon after went
to England. The Earl of Carlisle made him his
chaplain, and he finally became a Prebendary of
Canterbury, and one of the royal chaplains.*
In 1775, he published in London a short narrative
poem. The Peasant of Auburn, or the Emigrant.^
accompanied by a few smaller pieces. The tract
is dedicated to Goldsmith, and seems designed as
a continuation of the Deserted Village. It pre-
sents a lugubrious picture of the fortunes of an
emigrant. We quote a few of its closing pages.
Edwin, a wanderer on the banks of the Ohio,
relates his mournful experiences.

Much had I heard from men uiras'd to feign,
Of this New World, and freedom's gentle reign.
'Twas fam'd that here, by no proud master spurn'd ;
The poor man ate secure the bread he earned ;
That verdant vales were fed by brighter streams
Than my own Medway, or the silver Thames:
Fields without bounds, spontaneous fruitage bore,
And peace and virtue bless'd the favord shore.
Such were the hopes which once beguil'd my care
Hopes form'd in dreams, and baseless as the air.

Is this, 0 dire reverse, is this the land,
Where nature sway'd, and peaceful worthies plann'd?
Where injured freedom, through the world impell'd,
Her hallow'd seat, her last asylum held !
Ye glittering towns that crown th' Atlantic deep,
Witness the change, and as ye witness weep.
Mourn all ye streams, and all ye fields deplore,
Your slaughter' d sons, your verdure stain'd with

gore.
Time was, blest time, to weeping thousands dear,
When all that poets picture flourished here.
Then War was not, Religion smil'd and spread,
Arts, Manners, Learning, rear'd their polish'd head ;
Commerce, her sails to every breeze unfurl'd,
Pour'd on these coasts the treasures of the world.
Past are those halcyon days. The very land
Droops a weak mourner, wither'd and unmann'd.
Brothers 'gainst brothers rise in vengeful strife ; .
The parent's weapon drinks the children's life,
Sons, leagued witB foes, unsheath their impious

sword,
And gore the nurturing breast they had ador'd.

How vain my search to find some lowlv bower,
Far from those scenes of death, this rage for power ;
Some quiet spot, conceal'd from every eye,
In which to pause from woe, and calmly die.
No such retreat the boundless shades embrace,
But man with beast divides the bloody chase.
What tho' some cottage rise amid the gloom,
In vain its pastures spring, its orchards bloom ;

* Fisher's Early Poets of Pa. 98.

t The Peasant of Auburn, or the Emigrant. A Poem. By
T. Coombe, D-D. " The short and simple annals of the Poor,"
Gray. PhiL Enoch Story. Jnn. (no date.) Coombe was
evidently, from some lines in his poem, a reader of Collins's
Eclogues as well as of Goldsmith.

Far, far away the wretched owners roam.
Exiles like me, the world their only home.

Here as I trace my melancholy way,

The prowling Indian snuffs his wonted prey,

Ha! should I meet him in his dusky round —

Late in these woods I heard his murderous sound —

Still the deep war hoop vibrates on mine ear,

And still I hear his tread, or seem to hear —

Hark! the leaves rustle ! what a shriek was there!

"Tishe! tishe! his, triumphs rend the air.

Hold, coward heart, I'll answer to the yell,

And chase the murderer to his gory celL

Savage ! — but oh ! I rave — o'er yonder wild,

E'en at this hour he drives my only child ;

She, the dear source and soother of my pain,

My tender daughter, drags the captive chain.

Ah my poor Lucy ! in whose face, whose breast,
My long-lost limma liv'd again contest,
Thus robb'd of thee, and every comfort fled,
Soon shall the turf infold this weary head ; •

Soon shall my spirit reach that peaceful shore,
Where bleeding friends unite, to part no more.
When shall I cease to rue the fatal morn
When first from Auburn's vale I roam'd forlorn.

He spake — and frantic with the sad review
Prone on the shore his tottering limbs he threw.
Life's crimson strings were bursting round his heart,
And his torn soul was throbbing to depart ;
No pitying friend, no meek-ey'd stranger near,
To tend his throes, or calm them with a tear.
Angels of grace, your golden pinions spread,
Temper the winds, and shield his houseless head.
Let no rude sounds disturb life's awful close,
And guard his relics from inhuman foes.
O haste and waft liim to those radiant plains,
Where fiends torment no more, and love eternal
reigns.

THOMAS HUTCHINSON.

Thomas HuTcncreox, the celebrated Governor
of Massachusetts at the outset of the revolution,
was a descendant of Ann Hutchinson, and a son
of Colonel Thomas Hutchinson, a leading mer-
chant and member of the council of the colony.
He was born in 1711, and was graduated at Har-
vard in 17*27. He commenced his career as a
merchant, but failing in that pursuit studied law.

tf?^

Ho was chosen a selectman of Boston in 1738,
and appointed the agent of the town to visit Lon-
don in the discharge of important business, a duty
which he performed with great success. After
bis return, he was for ten years a member, and for
three the speaker of the colonial House of Repre-
sentatives, where he obtained a great reputation
as a debater and efficient presiding officer. He
was a member of the council from 1749 to 1766,
and lieutenant-governor from 1758 to 1771. He
was also appointed a judge of probate in 1752,.
and chief-justice in 1760. During the agitation
which followed the passage of the Stamp-Act, in
consequence of a report that he had expressed an
opinion in favor of that unpopular measure, his
house was twice attacked by a mob. On the
first occasion the windows were broken, and a
few evenings after, on the 26th of August, the

EARLY CAROLINA LITERATURE.

131

doors forced open, the furniture and -woodwork
destroyed, and the house remained in possession
of the rioters until morning. A great number of
public and private documents were also destroyed.
The town passed resolutions condemnatory of the
act, and some six or eight persons were impri-
soned, who were speedily set at liberty by a com-
pany, who, by threatening the.juilor, obtained the
keys. Hutchinson was indemnified for his losses
by a public grant.

A new subject of controversy arose in 1767 in
consequence of his taking a seat in the council in
virtue of his office as lieutenant-governor. He
abandoned his claim to a seat, and was a few
days after appointed one of the commissioners for
settling the boundary line with New York, a duty
which he discharged greatly to the advantage of
the colony.

On the departure of Governor Bernard, in 1760,
the whole duties of the office fell upon his lieu-
tenant. Fresh difficulties arose, and he had for-
warded a request to England to be discharged
from office, when he received the announcement
of his appointment as governor. He accepted the
office. He continued to increase in unpopularity
with the council and people in consequence of the
publication of the letters written by him to Eng-
land, which were discovered and sent back by
Franklin. The council and house voted an ad-
dress for his removal, but his conduct was ap-
proved by the king.

He was, however, removed after the destruc-
tion of the tea in Boston harbor, and General
Gage appointed in his place. Although notified
by Gage on his arrival, May 13, that the king in-
tended to reinstate him as soon as Gage's military
duties called him elsewhere, he sailed for England
on the first of June following. He received a
pension from the English government, which was
inadequate to the liberal support of his family, and
after, according to the account of John Adams,
" being laughed at by the courtiers for his man-
ners at the levee, searching his pockets for letters
to read to the king, and the king's turning away
from him with his nose up," lived in retirement
at Brompton, where he died, June 3, 1780.

Hutchinson was the author of a History of the
Colon ij of Massachusetts Bay, from its First Set-
tlement in 1628 to the year 1750, in two volumes,
the first of which was published in 1760, and the
second in 1767. A third, bringing the narrative
down to 1774, was published from a manuscript
left behind him after his decease, by his grandson
the Rev. John Hutchinson, of Trentham, England,
in 1828. He also published various pamphlets,
and a volume of documents relative to the history
of the colonv in 1769.

EARLY CAROLINA LITERATURE.
There were comparatively few early produc-
tions of the historic class in the Carolina-^. The
population was scant; the wonder of the early
settlements had abated, and the settlers were not
a writing people. Several historic tracts may be
mentioned.

T. A., Gent. (Thomas Ashe), clerk on board his
Majesty's ship the Richmond, sent out in 1680,
published on his return in 1682, Carolina; or a
Description of the Present state of that country,

and the natural excellencies therof ; namely, the
Healthfullness of the Air, Pleasantness of the
Place, Advantages and Usefulness of those rich
Commodities there plentifully abounding, which
much encrease and flourish by the industry of the
planters that daily enlarge that colony. It forms
twenty-six octavo pages in the reprint in Carroll's
Collections.*

John Archdale, late Governor of the province,
printed at London in 1707, A new descriptionof
that fertile and pleasant Province of Carolina;
with a brief account of its discovery and settling,
and the government thereof to this time. With
several remarkable passages of Divine Providence
during my time. It forms thirty-six pages of
Carroll's Collection, and is chiefly occupied with
the discussions arising under his administration.t
In 1708, John Stevens published in his new col-
lection of voyages and travels, a New Voyage to
Carolina, with a journal of a Thousand Miles
Travelled through several nations of Indians, by
John Lawson, Surveyor General of North Caro-
lina. It was published in a separate form in
1709.J Lawson was captured while exploring
lands in North Carolina, and sacrificed by the In-
dians in the war of 1712.§

The earliest literature in South Carolina was
scientific, medical, and theological, and came from
intelligent foreigners who took up their residence
in the country. The education of the sons of the
wealthy classes was carried on in Europe, and
continued to be through the Colonial era. Dr.
John Lining, a native of Scotland, in 1753, pub-
lished at Charleston a history of the Yellow
Fever, the first which had appeared on this con-
tinent. He was a correspondent of Franklin, and
pursued scientific studies. He died in 1760, in
his fifty-second year, having practised medicine
in Charleston for nearly thirty years. Dr. Lio-
nel Chalmers, also a Scotchman, was long esta-
blished in the state, and published an Essay on
Fevers at Charleston in 1767. He was the author,
too, of a work on the Weather and Diseases of
South Carolina, which was issued in London in
1776, the year before his death.

Dr. Alexander Garden was born in Scotland
about the year 1728, and was the son of the Rev.
Alex. Garden, of the parish of Birse, who, during
the Rebellion in the years 1745 and 1746, was
distinguished by his exertions in favor of the
family of Hanover, and by his interposition in
behalf of the followers of the house of Stuart after
their defeat at Culloden.

Dr. Garden studied philosophy in the Univer-
sity of Aberdeen, and received his first medical
education under the celebrated Dr. John Gregory.
He arrived in South Carolina about the middle
of the eighteenth century, and commenced the
practice of physic in Prince William's parish, in
connexion with Dr. Rose. Here he began his
botanic studies, but was obliged to take a voyage
northward for his health.

In 1754 he went to New York, where a pro-
fessorship in the college, recently formed in that

* Historical Collections of South Carolina. By B. R. Carroll.
Harpers, New York. 2 vols. Svo. 1886.

t It was separately reprinted by A. E. Miller. Charleston,
1822.

± Rich's Bib. Americana.

§ Holmes1 Annals, i. 5u7.

132

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

city, was offered him. On his return, he settled
in Charleston, acquired a fortune by his practice,
and a high reputation for literature. During that
period he gave to the public An Account of the
Pink Root (Spigelia marilandica), with its Uses
as a Vermifuge ; A Description of the ffelesia,
read before the Koyal Society ; An Account of the
Male and Female Cochineal Insects; An Account
of the Amphibious Biped (the Mud, Inguana or
Syren of South Carolina) : An Account of two
new Species of Tortoises, and another of the
Gymnotus Electricus, to different correspondents,
and published.

In compliment to him, Linnsaus gave the name
of Gardenia to one of the most beautiful and
fragrant flowering shrubs in the world. He was
elected a Fellow of the Koyal Society of London,
and on his arrival there, in 1783, was appointed
one of its council, and subsequently one of its
vice-presidents.

Dr. Garden's pulmonic disease, which had been
suspended during his long residence in South
Carolina, now returned upon him. He went for
health to the continent, and received great kind-
ness and distinguished compliments from the lite-
rati everywhere, but did not improve in health.
He died in London in the year 1792, aged sixty-
four years.*

The Rev. Alexander Garden, who was also
from Scotland, came to Charleston about 1720,
and died there in 1756, at an advanced age. He
was a clergyman of the Episcopal Church, learned
and charitable. He published several theological
writings, including Letters to Whitefield, and the
Doctrine of Justification Vindicated. The Rev.
Richard Clarke, from England, was Rector of St.
Philip's, in Charleston, a good classical scholar.
He published on the prophecies and universal
redemption. The Rev. Isaac Chanler, and the
Rev. Henry Haywood, two Baptist clergymen of
the State," also published several theological
writings.

The distinguished naturalist, Mark Catesby,
passed several years in South Carolina, engaged
in the researches for his Natural History. He
was born in England in 1679. He first visited
Virginia, where some of his relations resided,
in 1712, remaining there seven years collect-
ing plants, and studying the productions of
the country. Returning to England, he was led
by his scientific friends, Sir Hans Sloane and
others, to revisit America, and took up his resi-
dence in South Carolina in 1722. He traversed
the coast, and made distant excursions into the
interior, and visited the Bahamas, collccti ng the
materials for his work, the first volume of which
was completed in 1732, and the second in 1743.
The plates, then the most costly which had been
devoted to the Natural History of America, were
completed in 1718. A second edition was pub-
lished in 1754,t and a third in 1771. Catesby
died in London in 1749,

* Ramsay's Biojr. Sketches, appended to the second volume
of his History of South Carolina.

t The Natural History of Carolina, Florida, and the Bahama
Islands, containing the figures of Birds, Beasts, Fishes, Ser-

Eents, Insects, and Plants : particularly the Forest Trees,
brubs, and other plants not hitherto described, or very incor-
rectly figured by authors, together with their Descriptions in
English an/1 French, to which are added Observations on the

JOHN OSBOEN.

John Osboen was born in 1713 at Sandwick, a
village on Cape Cod Bay. His father was a
schoolmaster, and subsequently a clergyman, but
varied his scholastic by agricultural labors. The
son received a similarly practical education, en-
tered Harvard college at the age of nineteen, and
after being graduated studied theology. At the
expiration of two years he read a sermon before
the assembled clergy of the neighborhood with a
view of soliciting ordination, but the decision of
his auditors being adverse to the doctrines, though
laudatory of the literary merits of the discourse,
he was refused their recommendation. He then
studied medicine and was admitted to practice.
He was offered a tutorship in Harvard college,
1 but declined the appointment as a bachelorship
was one of the conditions of its tenure, and he
! was about to become a married man. He soon
I after married Miss Doane, of Chatham, and re-
' moved to Middletown, Conn. In a letter to his
j sister in March, 1753, he complains of being con-
| fined to the house, "weak, lame, and uneasy,"
! and of having " lingered almost two years, a life
j not worth having." He died May 31 of the
same year, leaving six children. Two of these,
John and John C, became eminent physicians
and cultivated men. John published before the
revolution a translation of Condamine's Treatise
on Inoculation, with an Appendix ; and Joel Bar-
low submitted his manuscript of the Vision of
Columbus to his brother and Richard Alsop for
review before its publication.

Two brief poems, The Whaling Song and An
Elegiac Epistle on the Death of a Sister, are sup-
posed to comprise all that Osborn has written.
One of these has enjoyed a very wide popularity
among the class to whom it was addressed.*

A WHALING SONG.

When spring returns with western gales,

And gentle breezes sweep
The ruffling seas, we spread our sails

To plough the wat'ry deep.

For killing northern whales prepared,

Our nimble boats on board,
With craft and rum (our chief regard)

And good provisions stored,

Cape Cod, our dearest native land,

We leave astern, and lose
Its sinking cliffs and lessening sands.

While Zephyr gently blows.

Bold, hardy men, with blooming age,

Our sandy shores produce ;
With monstrous fish they dare engage,

And dangerous callings choose.

Now towards the early dawning east

We speed our course away,
With eager minds, and joyful hearts,

To meet the rising day.

Then as we turn our wondering eyes,

We view one constant show ;
Above, around, the circling skies,

The rolling seas below.

Air, Soil, and Waters: with Remarks upon Agriculture, Grain,
Pulse, Boots, &c, by the late Mark Catesby, F.R.S. Revised
by Mr. Edwards, of the Royal College of Physicians, London,
2 vols, folio, Lond. 1754.
* Kettell's Specimens ; Thacher's Med. Biog. \ Allen ; Eliot.

JOHN ADAMS.

133

When eastward, clear of Newfoundland,

We stem the frozen pole,
We see the icy islands stand,

The northern billows roll.

As to the north we make our way,

Surprising scenes we find ;
We lengthen out the tedious day,

And leave the night behind.

Now see the northern regions, where

Eternal winter reigns:
One day and night fills up the year,

And endless cold maintains.

We view the monstej's of the deep,
Great whales in numerous swarms ;

And creatures there, that play and leap,
Of strange, unusual forms.

When in our station we are placed,

And whales around us play,
We launch our boats into the main,

And swiftly chase our prey.

In haste we ply our nimble oars,

For an assault design'd ;
The sea beneath us foams and roars,

And leaves a wake behind.

A mighty whale we rush upon,

And in our irons throw :
She sinks her monstrous body down

Among the waves below.

And when she rises out again,

We soon renew the fight ;
Thrust our sharp lances in amain,

And all her rage excite.

Enraged, she makes a mighty bound ;

Thick foams the whiten'd sea ;
The waves in circles rise around,

And widening roll away.

She thrashes with her tail around,
And blows her redd'niug breath ;

She breaks the air, a deaf'ning sound,
While ocean groans beneath.

From numerous wounds, with crimson flood,

She stains the frothy seas,
Ami gasps, and blows her latest blood,

While quivering life decays.

With joyful hearts we see her die,

And on the surface lay ;
While all with eager haste apply,

To save our deathful pre}'.

THE EET. JOHN ADAMS.
The publisher of the Poems on several occa-
sion*, Original and Translated, by the late Reve-
rend and Learned John Adams, M. A.,* says in
his prefatory address to the candid reader of his
author, " His own works are the best encomium
that can be given him, and as long as learning and
politeness shall prevail, his sermom will be his
monument, and his poetry bis epitaph"

The epitaph has proved more enduring than the
monument, though even that has hardly escaped
being thrust irrecoverably in "Time's Wallet."

* Poems on Several Occasions. Orim'nal and Translated, by
the late Reverend and Learned John Adams, M. A. Hoc
placuti semel, hoc dtcies reprtita placehit. Hor. de Art. Poet
Boston. Printed for D. Gookin. in Marlboroagh street, over
against the Old South Meeting House. 1745.

The Rev. John Adams's little volume is seldom

JJ.

Ce^r*^^

thought of or seen, save by the literary student.
It does not deserve the neglect into which it has
fallen.

His life, so far as known, may be narrated in a
sentence. He was the only son of the Hon. John
Adams, of Nova Scotia, was born in 1704, gradu-
ated from Harvard in 1721, was ordained and set-
tled at Newport, Rhode Island, contrary, it is said,
to the wishes of Mr. Clap, the pastor, whose con-
gregation formed a new society, leaving Mr.
Adams, who appears to have been an assistant, to
officiate for two years, and then be dismissed.

He was in great repute as an eloquent preacher,
and is described by his uncle, Matthew Adams, as
" master of nine languages." He died in 1740, at
the early age of thirty-six years, at Cambridge,
the fellows of the College appearing as pall-bear-
ers, and the most distinguished persons of the
state as mourners at bis funeral.

His volume contains a poetical paraphrase,
chapter by chapter, of the Book of Revelation,
and of some detached passages from other parts
of the Bible. Like most well educated writers
of verse, he has tried his hand on a few of the
Odes of Horace, and with success.

The original poems consist of tributes to de-
ceased friends, penned with ingenuity and elo-
quence, a poem in three parts on Society, and a
few verses on devotional. topics.

He was also the author of some verses addressed
" To a gentleman on the sight of some of his
Poems," published in " A Collection of Poems by
Several Hands," Boston, 1744. They were ad-
dressed to the Rev. Mather Byles, and are stated
in a MS. note in a copy of the collection, now in
the possession of Mr. George Ticknor, to be by
Adams. He was also the author of a poem on
the Love of Money.

His sermon delivered at his ordination in 172S
was published. The collection of his poems con-
tains an advertisement that " a number of select
and excellent sermons from his pen are ready for
the press, and upon suitable encouragement will
be shortly published." But the suitable encou-
ragement seems to have never been received.

FROM A POEM ON SOCIETY.

By inclination, and by judgment led,

A constant friend we choose, for friendship made.

His breast the faithful cabinet to hold

More precious secrets, than are gerns or gold.

His temper sweetly suited to our own,

Where wit and honesty conspire in one,

And perfect breeding, like a beauteous dress,

Give all his actions a peculiar grace:

Whose lofty mind with high productions teems,

And fame unmortal dazzles with its beams.

Not avarice, nor odious flattery

Lodge in his breast, nor can ascend so high ;

Or if they dare to tempt, he hurls them down,

Like Jove the rebels, from his reason's throne.

Nor is his face in anger's scarlet drest,

Nor black revenge eats up his cankcr'd breast.

Nor envy's furies in his bosom roll,

To lash with steely whips, his hideous soul:

Not sour contempt sits on his scornful brow,

134

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Nor looks on human nature sunk below ;
But heavenly candor, like unsullied day,
Flames in his thoughts, and drives the clouds

away.
And all his soul is peaceful, like the deep,
When all the warring winds are hush'd asleep.
Whose learning's pure, without the base alloy
Of rough ill manners, or worse pedantry.
Refin'd in taste, in judgment cool and clear,
To others gentle, to himself severe.
But, most of all, whose smooth and heavenly

breast,
Is with a calm of conscience ever blest :
Whose piercing eyes disperse the flying gloom,
Which hides the native light of things to come ;
And can disclose the dark mysterious maze,
Thro' which we wind, in airy pleasure's chace.
While after God his panting bosom heaves,
For whom the glittering goods of life he leaves.
With this blest man, how longs my soul to dwell!
And all the nobler flights of friendship feel,
Forever chain'd to his enchanting tongue,
And with his charming strains in consort strung.

It some retirement, spread with shaded greens,
Our feet would wander thro' surrounding scenes ;
Or sitting near the murmur of the rills,
The grass our bed, our curtains echoing hills ;
In mazy thought and contemplation join,
Or speak of human things, or themes divine:
On nature's work by gentle steps to rise,
And by this ladder gain th' impending skies;
Follow the planets thro' their rolling spheres,
Shine with the sun, or glow among the stars:
From world to world, as bees from flowY to flow'r,
Thro' nature's ample garden take our lour.
Oh! could I with a seraph's vigor move!
Guided thro' nature's trackless path to rove,
I'd gaze, and ask the laws of every Ball,
Which rolls unseen within this mighty All,
'Till, reaching to the verge of Nature's height
In God would lose th' unwearied length of flight.

But oh ! what joys thro' various bosoms rove,

As silver riv'lets warble through a grove,

When fix'd on Zion's ever-wid'ning plains,

The force of friendship but increas'd remains:

When friend to friend, in robes immortal drest,

With heighten'd graces shall be seen contest;

And with a triumph, all divine, relate

The finish'd labours of this gloomy state :

How heavenly glory dries their former grief,

All op'ning from the puzzled maze of life ;

How scenes on scenes, and J03's on joys arise,

And fairer visions charm on keener eyes.

Here each will find his friend a bubbling source,

Forever fruitful in divine discourse:

No common themes will grace their flowing tongues,

No common subjects will inspire their songs :

United, ne'er to part, but still to spend

A jubilee of rapture without end —

But oh! my Muse, from this amazing height

Descend, and downward trace thy dangerous flight;

Some angel best becomes such lofty things,

With skill to guide, and strength to urge his

wings :
To lower strains, confine thy humble lays,
'Till, by experience taught, thou learn to praise.

In handling the following pathetic theme he
touches the lyre with no trembling hand.

TO MY HONOURED FATHER ON THE LOSS OF niS BIGHT.

Now Heav'n has quench'd the vivid orbs of light,
By which all nature glitter'd to your sight,

And universal darkness has o'er-spread

The splendid honours of your aged head ;

Let faith light up its strong and piercing eye,

And in remoter realms new worlds descry:

Faith, which the mind with fairer glories fills.

Than human sight to human sense reveals.

See Jrsus, sitting on a flamy throne,

Whose piercing beams the vailing angels own ;

While bowing seraphs, blissful, clap their wings,

Ting'd with the light that from his presence springs,

You, who car; touch the strings to melting ails,

And with melodious trills enchant our ears,

May, wing'd by faith, to heavenly vocal plains,

In fancy's organ, drink subbmer strains:

The sounds, which love and sacred joys inspire,

Which pour the music from the raptur'd choir.

Tho', now the net is wove before your sight,

The web, unfolding soon, will give the light:

The visual rays will thro' the pupil spring,

And nature in a fairer landskip bring.

But first your frame must moulder in the ground,

Before the light will kindle worlds around:

Your precious ashes, sow'd within the glebe,

Will teem with light, and purer beams imbibe :

Shut now from all the scenes of cheerful day,

You ne'er will see, 'till Jesus pours the ray,

And all the pom]) of Heav'n around display.

So when a stream has waibled thro' the wood,

Its limpid bosom smooths and clears its flood ;

The rolling mirrour deep imbibes the stains

Of heav'nly saphyr, and impending greens;

'Till thro' the ground, in secret channels led,

It hides its glories in the gloomy bed :

'Till, op'ning thro' a wide and flow'ry vale,

Far fairer scenes the purer streams reveal.

Of his Horatian exercises we may take the first
ode : —

HORACE, BOOK I., ODE I.

Maecenas, whose ennobled veins

The blood of ancient monarchs stains;

My safeguard, beauty and delight.

Some love the chariot's rapid flight,

To whirl along the dusty ground,

Till with Olympic honors crown'd :

And if their fiery coursers tend

Beyond the goal, they shall ascend 4

In merit, equal to the gods,

Who people the sublime abodes.

Others, if mingled shouts proclaim

Of jarring citizens, their name,

Exalted to some higher post,

Are in the clouds of rapture lost.

This, if his granary contain

In crowded heaps the ripen'd grain,

Rejoicing his paternal field

To plough, a future crop to yield ;

In vain his timorous soul you'd move

Though endless sums his choice should prove,

To leave the safety of the land,

And trust him to the wind's command.

The trembling sailor, when the blue

And boisterous deep his thoughts pursue,

Fearful of tempests, dreads his gam

To venture o'er the threat'ning main :

But loves the shades and peaceful town

Where joy and quiet dwell alone.

But when, impatient to be poor,

His flying vessels leave the shore.

Others the present hour will seize,

And less for business are than ease;

But flowing cups of wine desire,

Which scatter grief, and joy inspire;

Joyful they quaff, and spread their limbs

Along the banks of murm'ring streams,

JOHN WINTHROP.

13£

While trees, which shoot their tow'ring heads,

Protect them with their cooling shades.

Some love the camp and furious war,

Where nations, met with nations, jar;

The noise of victors, and the cries

Of Vanquished, winch assault the skies,

Wliile at the trumpet's piercing ring

Their mounting spirits vigorous spring;

When fainting matrons, in a swound.

Receive the martial music's sound.

The morning hunter seeks his prey,

Though chill'd by heaven's inclemency.

Forgets his house : with dogs pursues

The flying stag in her purlieus.

Or his entangling net contains

The foamy boar, in ropy chains.

But me, the ivy wreaths, which spread

Their blooming honors round the head

Of learned bards, in raptures raise,

And with the gods unite in praise.

The coolness of the rural scenes,

The smiling flowers and ever-greens.

And sportful 'lances, all inspire

My soul, with more than vulgar fire.

If sweet Euterpe give her flute,

And Polyhymnia lend her lute.

If you the deathless bays bestow,

And by applauses make them grow,

Toward the stars, my winged fame

Shall fly, and strike the heavenly frame.

JOIIN WTNTHEOP.
The accomplished natural, philosopher, Profes-
sor Winthrop, of Harvard, was a man of eminent
scientific reputation in his day, and was universally

mrf-L^

spoken of with respect. He was a representative
of old Governor Winthrop in the fourth genera-
tion in descent from the fifth son. He was born
in Boston in 1714, studied at Cambridge, and six
years after his first degree, was appointed, in
1733, Hollis Professor of Mathematics and Natu-
ral Philosophy, to succeed Greenwood. His
Observations of the Transit of Mercury, in 1740,
were communicated to the Royal Society, of
which he subsequently became a Fellow, and
were published in the forty-second volume of
their Transactions. In 1755 he published a Lec-
ture on Earthquakes, on occasion of the celebrat-
ed phenomenon of that year, and parried in a
philosophical manner an attack which followed
from the Rev. Dr. Prince, of Boston, who thought
the theology of the day might be impaired in
consequence. Though his religious opinions were
firmly held, his election to his Professorship had
occasioned some opposition, as has since been the
case with Priestley, Playfair, and an instance of
the present day, in New York. A special doc-
trinal examination was waived in his favor* In
1759 he published two Lectures on Comets, which
he read in the college chapel in April of that
year, on occasion of the comet which appeared
in that month. His style in these essays, in

* Peircc, History of Harvard Univ. 188. We may refer to
tile remarks of Lord Brougham, in the case of Priestley, in that
great writer's memoir, in » The Lives of Men of Letters."

which he reviews the speculations on the subject,
and unfolds the theory of Newton, is marked by
its ease and felicity. As an instance of his man-
ner, we may quote some of his more general
remarks at the conclusion.

" It is not to be doubted, that the allwise Author
of nature designed so remarkable a sort of bodies for
important purposes, both natural and moral, in His
creation. The moral purposes seem not very diffi-
cult to be found. Such grand and unusual appear-
ances tend to rouse mankind, who are apt to fall
asleep, while all things continue as they were ; to
awaken their attention and to direct it to the su-
preme Governor of the universe, whom they would
be in danger of totally forgetting, were nature always
to glide along with an uniform tenor. These exotic
stars serve to raise in our minds most sublime con-
ceptions of God, and particularly display his exquisite
skill. The motions of many comets being contrary
to those of the planets, shew that neither of them
proceed from necessity or fate, but from choice and
design. The same thing is to be seen in the figure
and situation of their orbits ; which, indeed, have
not the appearance of regularity, as those of the
planets, and yet are the result of admirable contri-
vance. By means of their great eccentricity, they
run so swiftly through the planetary regions, as to
have but very little time to disturb their own mo-
tions or those of the planets. And this end is still
more effectually answered in those comets whose
motion is retrograde or contrary to that of the pla-
nets.

*****

" But instead of entering here into a detail, which
would probably answer no valuable end, I choose
rather to turn your thoughts to that consummate
wisdom which presides over this vast machine of
nature, and has so regulated the several movements
in it as to obviate the damage that might arise from
this quarter. None but an eye able to pierce into the
remotest futurity, and to foresee, throughout all ages,
all the situations which this numerous class of bodies
would have towards the planets, in consequence of
the laws of their respective motions, could have given
so just an arrangement to their several orbits, and
assigned them their places at first in their orbits,
with such perfect accuracy, that their motions have
ever since continued without interfering, and no dis-
asters of this sort have taken place, unless we except
the case of the deluge. For though so many comets
have traversed this planetary system, and some of
their orbits run near to those of the planets ; yet the
planets have never been in the way, but always at
a distance from the nearest point, when the comets
have passed by it. The foresight of that great Be-
ing, which has hitherto prevented such disorders,
will continue to prevent them, so long as He sees fit
the present frame of nature should subsist. Longer
than that it is not fit that it should subsist.

" It ma}7 not be unseasonable to remark, for a
conclusion, that as, on the one hand, it argues a
temerity unworthy a philosophic mind, to explode
every apprehension of danger from comets, as if it
were impossible that any damage could ever be oc-
casioned by any of them, because some idle and
superstitious fancies have in times of ignorance pre-
vailed concerning them ; so on the other, to be
thrown into a panic whenever a comet appears, on
account of the ill effects which some few of these
bodies might possibly produce, if they were not un-
der a proper direction, betrays a weakness equally
unbecoming a reasonable being. The wisest course
is to aim at such a rectitude of intention and firm-
ness of resolution, that, as Horace says:

336

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

" ' Si fractus illabatnr orbJs,
Impaviduia lerient ruina?.' "

On the sixth of June, 1761, Winthrop observed
the celebrated Transit of Venus, at St. John's,
Newfoundland, making the voyage thither in a
government vessel, at the charge of the Province,
at the especial instance of Governor Bernard.
This incident furnished the topic of the two
poems in the Pietas et Oratulatio of the same
year, which have been attributed to his pen.

Winthrop was followed, after an interval, in this
subject, by one of his college pupils, Andrew Oli-
ver, the eldest son of the Secretary of the Pro-
vince, and a gentleman of leisure and of scientific
and literary cultivation, who, in 1772, published
his Essay on Comets, in which he maintained
the theory that these bodies might be inhabited
worlds, " and even comfortable habitations."* Oli-
ver also wrote papers on Thunder Storms and
Water Spouts, which were published in the Trans-
actions of the American Philosophical Society,
of which he was a member, as he was also one
of the founders of the American Academy of Arts
and Sciences.

In 1705 Professor "Winthrop published an ac-
count of several fiery meteors visible in North
America ; and in 1766 his paper Cogitata de Co-
metis, which was communicated to the Royal So-
ciety by Dr. Franklin, and was separately printed
in London.

When the struggle of the colonies for freedom
commenced he took part in it, and was one of the
Council, with Bowdoin and Dexter, negatived by
the home government. He was re-chosen ; and
was also made Judge of Probate for the County
of Middlesex, an office which he held till his
death, in 1779, at the age of sixty. His eulogy
was pronounced by Professor Wigglesworth and
others ; and his pupil and friend, Andrew Oliver,
composed an elegy, the only specimen preserved
of tins writer's poetic talents.

Ye sons of Harvard ! who, by Winthrop taught,
Can travel round each planetary sphere ;

And winged with his rapidity of thought,
Trace all the movements of the rolling year,
Drop on his urn the tribute' of a tear.

Ye, whom the love of Geometry inspired.

To chase coy science through each winding maze ;
Whose breasts were with Newtonian ardor tired,

Catched by Ins sparks, and kindled at his blaze.

In grateful sighs, ejaculate his praise.

Ye philosophic souls! whose thoughts can trace
The wonders of the architect divine,

Through depths beneath, o'er nature's verdant face,
Where meteors play, where constellations shine,
Heave the deep groan, and mix your tears with
mine.

Ye tenants of the happy seats above!
Welcome this late inhabitant of cla}',

From hostile factions, to the realms of love,
Where he may bask in everlasting day,
Ye kindred spirits waft him in his way.

When in their sockets suns shall blaze their last.
Their fuel wasted, and extinct their light,

* Both these compositions of Winthrop and Oliver were re-
published, with biographical notices, in Boston, in 1811, when
the re-appearance of one of these heavenly bodies had created
a new interest in the 6ubject.

And worlds torn piecemeal by the final blast,
Subside in chaos and eternal night,

He still shall shine
In youth divine,
And soaring on cherubic wing,
Shall like an ardent seraph blaze,
And in unceasing raptures, to his Maker's praise,
Eternal hallelujahs sing.

Professor Winthrop left a son, James Winthrop,
who fought and was wounded at Bunker Hill,
and became Judge of the Common Pleas. He
was also a man of much literature and science, a
good linguist, publishing, in 1794, An Attempt to
translate part of the Apjocalypse of St. John into
familiar language, by divesting it of the meta-
phors in which it is involved, a second edition of
which was printed in 1809. He wrote for a peri-
odical, The Literary Miscellany, Dissertations
on Primitive History and the Geography of the
Old World, and several scientific papers. He
was librarian at Harvard for fifteen years, dying
at the age of 70, at Cambridge, in 1821. He
bequeathed his valuable library to the college at
Meadville, Pennsylvania.*

SAMUEL CTJEWEN.
Samuel Cukwen, a descendant from George Cur-
wen, who settled in the town of Salem, Massa-
chusetts, in 1638, was born in that place in 1715.
Completing his course at Harvard in 1735, he
commenced a preparation for the ministry, but
was obliged to abandon his determination in con-
sequence of ill health. Disappointment in a love
affair led him to seek relief in a change of scene
by a visit to England. On his return he engaged
in business, and became a leading merchant.
In 17-14-5 he served as a captain in the attack
upon Louisburg. In 1759 he was appointed Im-
post Officer for the county of Essex, and held the
office for fifteen years. In June, 1774, on the
departure of Governor Hutchinson for Europe,
Mr. Curwen, who was then a Judge of Admiralty,
joined with one hundred and nineteen citizens of
the colon}', in signing an address to that officer
of a commendatory character. Many of these
signers were afterwards stigmatized as " Address-
ers," and compelled to make a public recantation
of the act. Mr. Curwen declined doing this, and
having from the outset sided with Great Britain,
resolved to withdraw from the country until
public affairs resumed their former tranquillity.
A few months would, he supposed, effect this,
and he sailed from Philadelphia in May, 1775,
with the expectation of making a correspondingly
brief stay abroad. Mr. Curwen arrived at Dover,
Jul}' 3, 1775. He immediately departed for Lon-
don, where he passed several months, principally
occupied in sight-seeing. In June, 1776, he
writes, " I find my finances so visibly lessening,
that I wish I could remove from this expensive
country (being heartily tired of it). To beg is a
meanness I wish never to be reduced to, and to
starve is stupid." With a view to economy, and
probably to gratify his taste for sight-seeing as
well, we find him soon after leaving London to
visit the great towns in search of a less costly
place of residence. After a ramble about Eng-

* Knapp, Am. Biog. 3S1.

SAMUEL CURWEN.

137

land, which gives us some curious pictures of
inns and churches, show-places and antiquities,
fairs and hustings, he settles down in Bristol, but
in 1780 returns to London, where he remained
until his departure for America after the close
of the war in. 1784. He returned to his native
town, was entirely unmolested on account of his
political course, and died in April, 1802, at the
" age of eighty-six.

During his sojourn in England, he kept a i
familiar journal of his movements, occupations,
and amusements, which was sent in detached
pieces to his niece, and some sixty years after-
wards, in 1842, published* under the editorial
care of her grandson. It is of great value in an
historical point of view, displaying the condition
of the refugees in England, their opinion of
American affairs, and the action of Parliament
during the war. It is also interesting for its pic-
tures of London society and localities three
quarters of a century ago. He falls in with Hutch-
inson almost as soon as he arrives, goes to hear
Dr. Aptliorpe preach, walks out with Parson :
Peters, takes tea with facetious Joseph Green,
and afterwards pays a visit of condolence to his
widow. He is an indefatigable sight-seer, keeps
the run of the theatres, and does not despise
the rope-dancers, follows the debates at the
House of Commons, and looks in now and then
at "the Ladies' Disputing Club, Cornhill." To
the last, he takes a discouraging view of Ameri-
can independence, writing May 11, 1782, to
Richard Ward at Salem, as follows : —

To RicnAitD Ward, Esq.. Salem.

London, May 11, 1T82.
Dear Sir.,

Should your great and good ally obtain the two
only very probable objects of her American alliance,
the impoverishment of Great Britain and the conse-
quent seizure of the late English colonies, -which she
seems at present in a fair way for, no man on this I
side the Atlantic in his wits would, I think, what-
ever regard he may feel for his native country, will-
ingly forego a bare subsistence here for French
domination and wooden shoes there. I would just
suggest to you, should America in this hour refuse I
the offers Great Britain may make of a separate
peace ; or France refuse to suffer her. (for we well
know here the power she has acquired over her,)
and no partition treaty take place, (being in the pre-
sent situation the best to be expected, ) depend upon
it, you fathers of the present age will have it in their
power, ere many revolutions of the sun, to tell their
children the inestimable civil, religious and political
privileges you of this generation have wantoned
away, and with sad regret recount the happy con-
dition of former days; nor will the comparison with
those you will then mournfully experience between
English protection and French oppression, fail to
enhance your misery. You will then find the little
finger of French power heavier than the loin of the
English government, with all its apprehended train
of evils. As a proof of my needless fears or right

* Journal and Letters of the late Samuel Curwen, Judge of
Admiralty, etc., an American Refugee in England, from 1775
to 1784. comprising remarks on the prominent Men and
Measures of the Period, to which are added Biographical
Notices of many American Loyalists and other Eminent
Persons. By George Atkinson Ward. New York: C. S.
Francis & Co.

judgment, convey my kind love to your wife and
children.

Your friend,

S. CurtwEX.

. September 7 and 14, 1777, we find him attend-
ing

joun Wesley's preachment.

In the afternoon, walked to a street adjoining
King's square to attend John Wesley's preachment;
he being seated on a decent scaffold, addressed about
two thousand people, consisting of the middle and
lower ranks. The preacher's language was plain
and intelligible, without descending to vulgarisms.

Sept. 14. In the afternoon I attended once more
John Wesley, having the heavens for his canopy ; he
began with an extempore prayer, followed by a
hymn of his own composing, and adapted to the sub-
ject of his discourse. He wears his own gray hair,
or a wig so very like that my eye could not distin-
guish. He is not a graceful speaker, his voice being
weak and harsh ; he is attended by great numbers
of the middling and lower classes ; is said to have
humanized the almost savage colliers of Kingswood,
who, before his time, were almost as fierce and un-
manageable as the wild beasts of the wilderness.
He wears an Oxford master's gown ; his attention
seemingly not directed to manner and behavior, —
not rude, but negligent, dress cleanly, not neat. He
is always visiting the numerous societies of his own
forming in England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland;
though near eighty years old, he reads without spec-
tacles the smallest print. He rises at four, preaches
every day at five, and once besides; an uncommon
instance of physical ability.

September 17, 1780, he heard Samuel Peters
preach at Lincoln's Inn Chapel. " He is an in-
different speaker and composer — how he got
there is as difficult to conceive as straws in
amber."

We group together a few of Mr. Curwen's nu-
merous street notes and observations.

********

S''pt. 23. Walking through Old Bailey, and see-
ing a great crowd, learnt that two pickpockets were
to be whipped. Jack Ketch, a short sturdy man,
soon appeared with the culprits, one after the other;
the first seemed like an old offender, and was mode-
rately lashed ; the mob said lie had bought off the
minister of justice ; he writhed but little. The other
was young, distress painted strongly on his coun-
tenance ; he cried loudly; his back seemed unused
to stripes ; from this time it will carry tiie marks of
legal vengeance, and proofs of his folly and wicked-
ness. Going forward, passed through the Strand ;
and returned by way of Covent Garden to see elec-
tion, which had been ended and poll closed for two
hours; and the elected members, returning from the
procession, were just entering James'-street, mounted
on two arm chairs, placed on a board that was car-
ried on eight men's shoulders, accompanied by thou-
sands with tokens of victory: red and blue ribbons
in their hats.

********

Sept. 29. As I was walking in Holborn. observed
a throng of ordinary people crowding round a chaise
filled with young children of about seven years of
age ; inquiring the reason, was informed they were
young sinners who were accustomed to go about in
the evening, purloining whatever they could lay
their hands on, and were going to be consigned into
the hands of justice. Great pity that so many chil-
dren, capable of being trained to useful employments

138

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

and become blessiugsto society, should be thus early
initiated, by the wicked unthinking parents of the
lower classes in this huge overgrown metropolis, in
those pernicious practices of every species of vice
the human heart can be tainted with, which renders
them common pests, and most commonly briugsthem
to the halter.

********

Sept. 5. In walking through Parliament-street
and seeing crowds running through Scotland-yard,
joined them, and on inquiry found they were ac-
companying Parson Lloyd, a clergyman, returned
from Bow-street Justices' examination to Westmin-
ster Bridewell, from whence he was taken this
morning on a complaint of highway robbery ; and
it is said lie is identified. He seemed hardened, and
of a rough, bold cast, and begged with a careless
boldness money of every well dressed person that

Eassed as he was being conducted to prison in irons;
is right hand being also chained to an officer's, or
one of the justice's men.

********

April 7. Passed a crowd attending procession in
Parliament-street, going to take the Westminster
candidate, Charles J. Fox, from his lodgings to the
hustings under St. Paul's, Covent Garden, portico.
First marched musicians two and two, then four men
supporting two red painted poles having on top the
cap of liberty of a dark blue color; to each was fas-
tened a light blue silk standard about nine feet long
and five wide, having inscribed thereon in golden
letters these words, " The Man of the People ;" fol-
lowed by the butchers with marrow-bones and cleav-
ers; then the committee two and two, holding in
their hands white wands ; in the rear the carriages.
They stopped at his house in St. James's-street, where
taking him up, he accompanied them in Mr. Byng's
carriage through Pall Mall and the Strand to the
hustings, when the election proceeded ; made with-
out opposition, no competitor appearing against
him.

THE HISTORY OF KING PHILIP'S WAR.

Captain Benjamin Church, the leader in the
war against King Philip, dictated, in the latter
part of his life, an account of his Indian expe-
riences to his son Thomas, by whom, probably
with little or no change, it was published in a
volume. It is a valuable historical authority, and
in itself, as a straightforward and spirited narra-
tive of brave and romantic adventure, well worthy
of attention.

£h

-t-t^-AtK-rl

iSHtM,y-rVi

Benjamin Church was born at Duxbury, Mas-
sachusetts, in 1639, and was the first settler of
Seconet or Little Compton. " Being providentially
at Plymouth," he informs us, "in 1674, in the
lime of the court, he fell into acquaintance witli
Captain John Alnry of Rhode Island," by whom
he was invited to visit " that part of Plymouth
Colony that lay next to Rhode Island, known
then by their Indian names of Pocasset and Sog-
konate." He did so, and purchased land, on
which he settled.

The next spring, while " Mr. Church was dili-
gently settling his new farm, stocking, leasing,
and disposing of his affairs, and had a fine pros-
pect of doing no small things; and hoping that

his good success would he inviting unto other
good men to become his neighbours : Behold ! the
rumour of a war between the English and the
natives, gave check to his projects." Hostilities
soon commenced. A force was raised, and Church
placed in command of an advanced guard. He
was at the head of the party which killed King
Philip, in August, 1676. He was afterwards, in
September, 1680, made commander-in-chief of an
expedition against the French and Indians at
Casco, and again employed in a similar service in
1690, and with Governor Phipps, in 1692. After
the burning of Deerfield, in 1704, he rode seventy
miles to offer his services against the Indians,
whom he harassed greatly at Penobscot and
Passamaquoddy.

After Philip's war, Colonel Church resided at
Bristol, then at Fall River, and lastly at Seconet,
" at each of which places he acquired and left a
large estate." He maintained throughout his life
the reputation of an upright and devout, as well
as brave man. He married Mrs. Alice South-
worth, by whom he had a daughter and five sons,
and died on the seventeenth of January, 1718, in

! consequence of a fall from his horse, by which a
blood-vessel was broken. The first edition of,
The Entertaining History of King Philip's
War, which began in the month of Jam, 1675, as
aho of Expeditions more lately made against the
Common Enemy, and Indian Rebels, in the East-
ern parts of New England : with some account
of the Divine Providence towards Col. Benjamin
Church : by Thomas. Church, Esq., his son, was
published in Boston in 1716. A second edition
appeared at Newport in 1772, and a third and
fourth, with notes by Samuel G. Drake, in 1825

I and 1829*

A SCrTFLE.

Mr. Church was moved with other wounded men,
over to Rhodeisland, where in about three months'
time, he wras in some good measure recovered of his
wounds, and the fever that attended them; and
then went over to the General to take his leave of
him, with a design to return home. But the Gene-
ral's great importunity again persuaded him to
accompany him in a long march into the Kipmuck
country, though he had tiien tents in his wounds,
and so lame as not to be able to mount his horse
without two men's assistance.

In this march, the first tiling remarkable was, they
came to an Indian town, where there were many
wigwams in sight, but an icy swamp, lying between
them and the wigwams, prevented their running at
once upon it as they intended. There was much

* Mr. Drake reprinted, in an ISmn. volume, in 1S83 :

The Present State of New England, with respect to the
Indian War. Wherein is an account of the true Reason there-
of, (as far as can be judged by Men,) together with most of the
Remarkable Passages that have happened from the 20th of
June till the 10th of November, 1675. Faithfully composed by
a merchant of Boston, and communicated to his friends in
London. London, 1675.

A continuation of the foregoing, from the 10th of November,
1675, to the 8th of February, 1675-6. London, 1676.

A new and further narrative, from March till August, 1676.
London, 1676. The Warr in New England visibly ended.
London, 1677.

A true account of the most considerable occurrences that
have happened in the war between the English and the Indians,
in New England, from the fifth of May, 1676, to the fourth of
August last. London, 1676.

He considers it highly probable that these five tracts, with
Church's Narrative, comprise all that can be recovered In rela-
tion to King Philip's war.

BENJAMIN CHUECH.

139

firing upon each side before they passed the swamp.
But at length the enemy all fled, and a certain Mo-
hegan, that was a friend Indian, pursued and seized
one of the enemy that had a small wound in his leg,
and brought him before the General, where he was
examined. Some were for torturing him to bring
him to a more ample confession of what he knew
concerning his countrymen. Mr. Church, verily
believing that he had been ingenuous in his confes-
sion, interceded, and prevailed for his escaping
torture. But the army being bound forward in their
march, and the Indian's wound somewhat disen-
abling him for travelling, it was concluded that he
should be knocked on the head. Accordingly he
was brought before a great fire, and the Mohegan
that took him was allowed, as he desired, to be his
executioner. Mr. Church taking no delight in the
sport, framed an errand at some distance among the
baggage horses, and when he had got ten rods, or
thereabouts, from the fire, the executioner fetching a
blow with a hatchet at the head of the prisoner, he
being aware of the blow, dodged his head aside,
and the executioner missing his stroke, the hatchet
flew out of his hand, and had like to have done
execution where it was not designed. The prisoner
upon his narrow escape, broke from them that held
him, and notwithstanding his wound, made use of
bis legs, and happened to run right upon Mr. Church,
who laid hold on him, and a close scuffle they had;
bat the Indian having no clothes on, slipped from
him and ran again, and Mr. Church pursued him,
although being lame there was no great odds in the
race, until the Indian stumbled and fell, and then
they closed again — scuffled and fought pretty
smartly, until tiie Indian, by the advantage of his
nakedness, slipped from his hold again, and set out
on his third race, with Mr. Church close at his heels,
endeavouring to lay hold on the hair of his head,
which was all the hold could be taken of him. And
running through a swamp that was covered with
hollow ice, it made so loud a noise that Mr. Church
expected (but in vain) that some of his English
friends would follow the noise and come to his
assistance. But the Indian happened to run athwart
a large tree that lay fallen near breast high, where
he stopped and cried out aloud for help. But Mr.
Church being soon upon him again, the Indian
seized him fast by the hair of his head, and endea-
voured by twisting to break his neck. But though
Mr. Church's wounds had somewhat weakened him,
and the Indian a stout fellow, yet he held him in
play and twisted the Indian's neck as well, and took
the advantage of many opportunities, while they
hung by each other's hair, gave him notorious bunts
in tiie face with his head. But in the heat of the
scuffle they heard the ice break, with somebody's
coming apace to them, which when they heard,
Church concluded there was help for one or other
of them, but was doubtful which of them must now
receive the fatal stroke — anon somebody comes up
to them, who proved to be the Indian that had first
taken the prisoner ; and without speaking a word,
he felt them out, (for it was so dark he could not
distinguish them by Bight, the one being clothed
and the other naked) he felt where Mr. Church's
hands were fastened in the Netop's hair and with
one blow settled his hatchet in between them, and
thus ended the strife. He then spoke to Mr. Church
ami hugged him in Ids arms, and thanked him abun-
dantly lor catching his prisoner. He then cut off
the head of his victim and carried it to the camp,
and after giving an account to the rest of the friend
Indians in the camp how Mr. Church had seized
his prisoner, &c, they all joined in a mighty
shout.

DEATn OF KING PHILIP.

Captain Church being now at Plymouth again,
weary and worn, would have gone home to his wife
and family, but the government being solicitous to
engage him in the service until Philip was slain ; and
promising him satisfaction and redress for some mis-
treatment that he had met with, he fixes for another
expedition.

He had soon volunteers enough to make up the
! company he desired, and marched through the
woods until he came to Pocasset. And not seeing
or hearing of any of the enemy, they went over
the ferry to Rhodeisland, to refresh themselves. The
Captain, with about half a dozen in his company,
took horses and rode about eight miles down the
island, to Mr. Stanford's, where he had left his wife.
She no sooner saw him, but fainted with surprise ;
and by that time she was a little revived, they spied
two horsemen coming a great pace. Captain Church
told his company, that " Those men (by their riding)
come with tidings." When they came up, they
proved to be Major Sanford, and Captain Golding.
They immediately asked Captain Church, what he
would give to hear some news of Philip ? He replied,
that that was what he wanted. They told him, that
they had rode hard with some hopes of overtaking
him, and were now come on purpose to inform
him, that there were just now tidings from Mount-
hope. An Indian came down from thence (where
Philip's camp now was) to Sandy point, over
against Trip's, and hallooed, and made signs to be
I fetched over. And being fetched over, he reported,
': that he was fled from Philip, " who (said he) has
killed my brother just before I came away, for giv-
ing some advice that displeased him." And said,
that he was fled for fear of meeting with the same
his brother had met with. _ Told them also, that
Philip was now in Mounthope' neck. Captain Church
thanked them for their good news, and said, that
he hoped by to-morrow morning to have the rogue's
head. The horses that he and his company came
on standing at the door, (for they had not been un-
saddled) his wife must content herself with a short
visit, when such game was ahead. They immediately
mounted, set spurs to their horses, and away.^

The two gentlemen that brought him the tidings,
told him, tlTat they would gladly wait upon him to
see the event of the expedition. He thanked them,
and told them, that he should be as fond of their
company as any men's; and (in short) they went
■ with him. And they were soon at Trip's ferry, (with
Captain Church's company) where the deserter was.
He was a fellow of good sense, and told his story
handsomely. He offered Captain Church, to pilot
him to Philip, and to help to kill him, that he might
revenge his brother's death. Told him, that Philip
was now upon a little spot of upland, that was in
; the south end of the miry swamp, just at the foot
of the mount, which was a spot of ground that
Captain Church was well acquainted with.

By that time they were over the ferry, and came

j near the ground, half the night was spent. The

Captain commands a halt, and bringing the company

together, he asked Major Sanford's and Captain

Gohling's advice, what method it was best to take in

making the onset ; but they declined giving him any

advice ; telling him, that his great experience and

success forbid their taking upon them to give advice.

Then Captain Church offered Captain Golding the

honour (if he would please accept of it) to beat up

Philip's headquarters. He accepted the offer and

had his allotted number drawn out to him, and the

pilot. Captain Church's instructions to him were,

, to be very careful in his approach to the enemy, and

i be sure not to show himself, until by daylight they

140

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

might see and discern their own men from the ene-
my ; told him also, that his custom in like cases,
was, to creep with his company, on their bellies,
until they came as near as they could ; and that as
soon as the enemy discovered them, they would cry
out, and that was the word for his men to fire and
fall on. He directed him, that when the enemy
should start and take into the swamp, that they
should pursue with speed ; every man shouting arid
making what noise he could ; for he would give
orders to his ambuscade to fire on any that should
come silently.

Captain Church knowing that it was Philip's cus-
tom to be foremost in the flight, went down to the
swamp, and gave Captain Williams of Scituate the
command of the right wing of the ambush, and
placed an Englishman and an Indian together behind
such shelters of trees, &c, as he could find, and took
care to place them at such distance, that none might

Eass undiscovered between them ; charged them to
e careful of themselves, and of hurting their
friends, and to fire at any that should come silently
through the swamp. But it being somewhat farther
through the swamp than he was aware of, he want-
ed men to make up his ambuscade.

Having placed what men he had, he took Major
Sanford by the hand, and said, "Sir, I have so
placed them that it is scarce possible Philip should
escape them." The same moment a shot whistled
over their heads, and then the noise of a gun towards
Philip's camp. Captain Church, at first, thought
that it might be some gun fired by accident; but
before he could speak, a whole volley followed,
which was earlier than he expected. One of Philip's
gang going forth to ease himself, when he had done,
looked round him, and Captain Golding thought that
the Indian looked right at him, (though probabl}' it
was but his conceit) so fired at him; and upon his
firing, the whole company that were with him fired
upon the enemy's shelter, before the Indians had
time to rise from their sleep, and so over shot them.
But their shelter was open on that side next the
swamp, built so on purpose for the convenience of
flight on occasion. They were soon in the swamp,
and Philip the foremost, who starting at the first
gun, threw his pelunk and powderhorn over his
head, catched up his gun, and ran as fast as he could
scamper, without any more clothes than his small
breeches and stockings ; and ran directly on two of
Captain Church's ambush. They let him come fair
within shot, and the Englishman's gun missing fire,
he bid the Indian fire away, and he did so to the
purpose; sent one musket bullet through his heart,
and another not above two inches from it. He fell
upon his face in the mud and water, with his gun
under him.

By this time the enemy perceived that they were
waylaid on the east side of the swamp, and tacked
short about. One of the enemy, who seemed to be
a great, surly old fellow, hallooed with a loud voice,
and often called out, " lootaxh, Tootash." Captain
Church called to his Indian, Peter, and asked him,
who that was that called so? He answered, that it
was old Annawon, Philip's great Captain; calling
on his soldiers to stand to it, and fight stoutly. Now
the enemy finding that place of the swamp which
was not ambushed, many of them made their escape
in the English tracks.

The man that had shot down Philip, ran with all
speed to Captain Church, and informed him of his
exploit, who commanded him to be silent about it
and let no man more know it, until they had driven
the swamp clean. But when they had driven the
swamp through, and found that the enemy had
escaped, or at least, the most of them, and the sun

now up, and so the dew gone, that they could not
easily track them, the whole company met together
at the place where the enemy's night shelter was,
and then Captain Church gave them the news of
Philip's death. Upon which the whole army gave
three loud huzzas.

Captain Church ordered his body to be pulled out
of the mire to the upland. So some of Captain
Church's Indians took hold of him by his stockings,
and some by his small breeches (being otherwise
naked) and drew him through the mud to the up-
land ; and a doleful, great, naked, dirty beast he
looked like. Captain Church then said, that foras-
much as he had caused many an Englishman's body
to be unburied, and to rot above ground, that not
one of his bones should be buried. And calling his
old Indian executioner, bid him behead and quarter
him.

DAVID BEAINERD.

David Braixf.rd, the missionary to the Indians,
was born at Iladdam, Conn., April 20, 1718. He
lost his father, a member of the council of the
colony, when he was but nine years old, and his
mother five years after. He early displayed a
deep sense of religious obligation, combined with

great dread of future punishment. He dates his
partial relief from the terrible- fears which tor-
mented his existence, from the night of July 12,
1739; but he was throughout life subject to fits
of deep despondency.

In September of the same year, he entered
Yale College, where he devoted himself so ear-
nestly to his studies that his feeble frame broke
down under his labor. His life was for some
weeks despaired of, but after a long interval of

I rest, he was enabled to resume his studies in the
autumn. Not content with his bodily sufferings,
his journal shows that he reproached himself
severely for a sinful ambition to stand high as
a scholar.
About this time^Vhitefield visited New England.

J An excitable temperament like Brainerd's was
one likely to be affected by the system which he
introduced. A powerful religious excitement
spread through the college, which was discoun-
tenanced by its heads. Brainerd was overheard
to say that one of the tutors " had no more grace
than a chair ;" and was, for this slight offence,
expelled from the college, lie afterwards acknow-
ledged his fault of hasty speech, but always felt
the unjust severity with which he had been
treated.

He immediately commenced the study of divin-
ity, and in the summer of the same year received
a license to preach from the association of minis-
ters at Danbury. His ardent desire was to
become a missionary among the Indians, and he
commenced his labors among a small and
wretched community of that race at Kent, on
the borders of Connecticut. In November he
received an invitation from the Correspondents,
at New York, of the Society for Promoting
Christian Knowledge — an association formed in
Scotland — to become their missionary to the
Indians, He accepted the apuointment, after

DAVID BRAINERD.

141

some hesitation, arising from his usual over
modest distrust of his own ability, and com-
menced his labors at Kanaumeek, an Indian village
about half way between Stbckbridge and Albany.
His first act was to devote his small patrimony to
the support of a* young friend in the ministry,
relying himself entirely upon his missionary
allowance to supply his simple wants.

He arrived among the Indians April 1, 1743,
weak ill body from the consumption, which,
aggravated by exposure, soon after ended his life.
He found shelter in the log hut of a poor Scotch-
man, where he lived on hasty pudding, boiled
corn, and bread baked in the ashes. Finding this
residence too far from the Indians, he built, with
his own hands, a log hut among their wigwams.
He not long afterwards made a journey to New
Haven, for the purpose of making a humble apo-
logy to the college authorities for his old offence.
He craved pardon in these humble and self-accus-
ing terms : —

Whereas, I have said before several persons con-
cerning ilr. Whittlesey, one of the tutors of Yale
College, that I did not believe he had any more
grace than the chair I then leaned upon; I humbly
confess, that herein I have sinned against God, and
acted contrary to the rules of his word, and have
injured Mr. Whittlesey. I had no right to make
thus free with his character, and had no just reason
to say as I did concerning him. My fault herein
was the more aggravated, in that I said this concern-
ing one who was so much my superior, and one that
I was obliged to treat with special respect and honor,
by reason of the relation I then stood in to the col-
lege. Such a behavior, I confess, did not become a
Christian; it was taking too much upon me, and did
not savor of that humble respect that I ought to
have expressed towards Mr. Whittlesey. ... I have
often reflected on this act with grief; I hope, on
account of the sin of it ; and am willing to lie low
and to be abased before God and man for it. I
humbly ask the forgiveness of the governors of the
college, and of the whole society; but of Mr. Whit-
tlesey in particular. . . And whether the governors
of the college shall see fit to remove the censure I
lie under or not, or to admit me to the privileges I
desire ; yet I am willing to appear, if they think fit,
openly to own, and to humble mj'self for those
things I have herein confessed.

But the only conditions which the college
authorities would offer, were, that if he would
return and remain a year under their jurisdiction,
they might allow him a degree. These terms he
could not accept without relinquishing his duties,
and he consequently did not receive the honors
of the institution.

After some months passed at his station, he
became, convinced that it was his duty to remove
to Indians who were not in constant proximity to
the whites, a circumstance which impeded and
almost neutralized his efforts. Their position near
the French frontier was also a source of distrac-
tion. If his present charge could bo induced to
remove to Stockbridge, they would be under the
care of a pastor who knew their wants and would
do all that could be done for them. This removal
Brainerd proposed, and it is a significant proof
of the influence he had acquired over them that
they gave a ready assent.

This being arranged, the missionary was urgently

pressed to become the pastor of the pleasant
and flourishing village of East Hampton, Long
Island. The people of that place represented to
him " that he might be useful to them for many
years, while he would soon sink under the hard-
ships of his mission, as the winter he had passed
at Kanaumeek abundantly proved."*

His purpose was not to be changed by promise
of ease or prospect of death, and he was soon
after a wearisome journey at his new post, Cross-
waksung, at the Forks of the Delaware. After
months of diligent and patient labor, he succeeded
in converting some of the red men to Christi-
anity. He persuaded them to remove from the
immediate neighborhood of the whites to a place
called Cranberry, fifteen miles distant, and form
an independent settlement. He then, believing it
his duty to seek a new audience, penetrated still
further into the wilderness, to the Susquehanna.
The journey proved too much for his enfeebled
constitution. He returned to Cranberry ex-
hausted, and after instructing from his chair, and
being carried to the place of meeting to adminis-
ter the sacrament, felt it his duty to seek rest, or,
in his own words, "consume some time in diver-
sions.'"t He was compelled to halt at Elizabeth-
town, where he was for some time confined to
his bed. He was gratified while here by the
arrival of his brother, on his way to join or suc-
ceed him in his missionary enterprise.

In April, 1747, he at length reached North-
ampton, Massachusetts, where he was received
into the family of the Eev. Jonathan Edwards,
afterwards President of Yale College. He visited
this place for the purpose of consulting the phy-
sician, Mather, who decided his case to be hope-
less, but advised the exercise of riding as the
best means of alleviating his disorder.

His friends recommended him to go to Boston,
and Jerusha, the daughter of Edwards, a young
lady of eighteen, accompanying him, as her
father simply expresses it, " to be helpful to him
in his weak and low state. "J:

He received much attention in Boston, where
he was for some time at the point of death. He
was visited by those who sympathized with his
mission, and was instrumental in the collection
of funds for the promotion of its objects.

He returned to Northampton in July, and after
great suffering in the final stages of his disease,
died on the ninth of October, 1747. To the last,
his attached and faithful nurse " chiefly attended
him."§

* Life of Brainerd, by W". B. O. Peabody, in Sparks's Am
Biog. viii. 30U.

t Peabody's Life, p. 356.

1 Memoirs of Brainerd. by Edwards, p. 400.

§ Tbe brief and beautiful career of this young lady is con-
cisely and leeliugly given in tbe following note by her father.

"Since this, it has pleased a holy and sovereign God to take
away this my dear child by death, on the 14th of February,
next following, after a short illness of five days, in the eight-
eenth year of her age. She was a person of much the same
spirit with Brainerd. She had constantly taken care of, and
attended him in his sickness, for nineteen weeks before his
death ; devoting herself to it with great delight, because sho
looked on him as an eminent servant of Jesus Christ. In this
time, he had much conversation with her on the things of
religion ; and in his dying state, often expressed to us, her
parents, his great satisfaction concerning her true piety, and his
confidence that he should meet her in heaven, and his high
opinion of her, not only as a true Christian, but a very eminent
saint: one whose soul was uncommonly fed and entertained
with things which appertain to the most spiritual, experimen-

142

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

The society by whom Brainerd was employed
published, in 1746, Mirabilia Dei inter Indicos;*
or the Rise and Progress of a remarkable Work
of Grace among a number of the Indians of New
Jersey and Pennsylvania.

The volume contains extracts from the journal
of his labors, forwarded by him, commencing
with his residence at Crossweeksung, June 19th,
and extending to November 4th, 1749. A second
part, entitled Ditine Grace Displayed,\ cover-
ing the period from November 24th, 1745, to
June 19th, 1746, was published a few months
after.

His friend Edwards preached his funeral ser-
mon, and, in 1749, published his life, chiefly
composed of extracts from the minute private
diary kept by Brainerd, in addition to his pub-
lished journals, throughout his career, the last
entry in it being dated only seven days before his
death. It is a curious record of spiritual expe-
rience, tinged by a melancholy temperament,
increased by a life which, although an active one,
was passed in a great measure in a virtual soli-
tude.

That his biographer was aware of the dangers
with which a constant study of self is attended,
is evident from his citation of the following
passage by Thomas Shepard : —

I have known one very able, wise, and godly, put
upon the rack by him, who, envying God's people's
peace, knows how to change himself into an angel
of light , for it being his usual course, in the time
of his health, to make a diary of his hourly life,
and fimling much benefit by it, he was in conscience
pressed by the power and delusion of Satan, to make
and take the same daily survey of his life in the
time of his sickness ; by means of which, he spent
his enfeebled spirits, and cast on fuel to fire his
sickness. Had not a friend of his convinced him of
his erroneous conscience misleading him at that
time, he had murdered his body, out of conscience
to save his soul, and to preserve his grace.

The diary, however, forms a beautiful memo-
rial of a life of self-sacrifice and devotion, of the
pursuit of missionary enterprise among an unim-
pressible and savage people, whose minds he
could only approach through the medium of an

tal, and distinguishing parts of religion : and one who. by the
temper of her mind, was fitted to deny herself for God. and to
do good, beyond any young woman whatsoever, whom he
knew. She had manifested a heart uncommonly devoted to
God, in the course of her life, many years before her death ;
and said on her death-bed, that tlshe had not seen one minute
for several years, wherein she desired to live one minute
longer, for the sake of any other good in life, but doing good,
living to God. and doing what might be for his glory.'1

* Mirabilia Dei iuter Indicos: or the Rise and Progress of a
remarkable Work of Grace, among a number of the Indians, in
the Province of New Jersey and Pennsylvania; justly repre-
sented in a Journal, kept by order of the Honourable Society
in Scotland for propagating Christian Knowledge ; with some
General Remarks; by David Braineed, Minister of the Gos-
pel, and Missionary from the said Society : published by the
Reverend and Worthy Correspondents of the said Society;
with a Preface by them.

+ Divine Grace Displayed ; or the Continuance and Progress
of a remarkable Work of Grace among some of the Indians
belonging to the Provinces of New Jersey anfWPennsylvania;
justly represented in a Journal kept by order of the Hon-
ourable Society in Scotland for propagating Christian Know-
ledge: with some General Remarks; to which is subjoined an
Appendix, containing some account of sundry things, and
especially of the Difficulties attending the Work of "a Mis-
sionary among the Indians; by David Brainerd, Minister of
the Gospel, and Missionary from the said Society : published
by the Reverend and Worthy Correspondents ot the said
Society.

interpreter, as, although he bestowed much labor
on the effort, he never thoroughly mastered their
language. His journal bears no record of his
bodily sufferings, but we know that he went to
his task with a frame wasted by consumption, and
pursued his painful journeys in all weathers,
undisturbed by the unmistakable premonitions of
death which accompanied his disease. He rode
through the woods, raising blood and parched
with fever, and his rest in the rude hut or wigwam
was accompanied by wasting night-sweats, and
yet, with all this, he was constantly reproaching
himself for want of exertion.

The diary is not as full as could be desired in
relation to his intercourse with the Indians, but
is sufficiently so to show that he pursued a wise
and judicious course in his ministry.

The pervading spirit of Brainerd's Journal is
eloquently described by Edwards : —

I have had occasion to read his diary over and
over, and very particularly and critically to review
every passage in it; and I find no one instance of a
strong impression on his imagination, through his
whole life ; no instance of a strongly impressed idea
of any external glory and brightness, of any bodily
form or shape, any beautiful majestic countenance.
There is no imaginary sight of Christ hanging on
the cross with his blood streaming from his wounds;
or seated in heaven on a bright throne, with angels
and saints bowing before him ; or with a counte-
nance smiling on him ; or arms open to embrace
him : no sight of heaven, in his imagination, with
gates of pearl, and golden streets, and vast multi-
tudes of glorious inhabitants, with shining garments.
There is no sight of the book of life opened, with
his name written in it ; no hearing of the sweet
music made by the songs of heavenly hosts; no
hearing God or Christ immediately speaking to him;
nor any sudden suggestions of words or sentences,
either oi scripture or any other, as then immediately
spoken or sent to him ; no new objective revela-
tions ; no sudden strong suggestions of secret facts.
Nor do I find any one instance in all the records
which he has left of his own life, from beginning to
end, of joy excited from a supposed immediate wit-
ness of the Spirit ; or inward immediate suggestion,
that his state was surely good, that God loved him
with an everlasting love, that Christ died for him
in particular, and that heaven was his ; either with
or without a text of scripture. There is no instance
of comfort from any sudden suggestion to liis mind,
as though at that very time directed by God to him
in particular, of any such texts as these ; " Fear
not; I am with thee;" — "It is your Father's gpod
pleasure to give you the kingdom ;" — " You have
not chosen me, but I have chosen you ;" — " I have
called thee by thy name, thou art mine;" — " Before
thou wast formed in the belly, I knew thee," <fce.
There is no supposed communion and conversation
with God carried on in this way ; nor any such sup-
posed tasting of the love of Christ. But the way in
which he was satisfied of his own good estate, even to
the entire abolishing of fear, was by feeling within
himself the lively actings of a holy temper and
heavenly disposition, the vigorous exercises of that
divine love which casteth out fear.

Edwards's Life was abridged by John Wesley,
and published in England. . A second and smaller
abridgment was made by John Styles. In 1822,
the original work was printed at New Haven,
with the addition of the Journals published
during Brainerd's lifetime, and which were

JAMES McSPARRAN.

143

omitted by Edwards as being already accessible
to the public, under the editorship of Sereuo
Edwards Dwight*

INDIAN SUPERSTITION. '

"When I was in this regiouf in May last, I had an
opportunity of learning many of the notions and
customs of the Indians, as well as observing many
of their practices. I then travelled more than au
hundred and thirty miles upon, the river, above the
English settlements ; and, in that journey, met with
individuals of seven or eight distinct tribes, speak-
ing as many different languages. But of all the
sights I ever saw among them, or indeed any where
else, none appeared so frightful, or so near a kin to
what is usually imagined of infernal powers, none
ever excited such images of terror in my mind, as
the appearance of one who was a devout and zealous
Reformer, or rather, restorer of what he supposed
was the ancient religion of the Indians. He made
his appearance in his pontifical aarb, which was a
coat of boar skins, dressed with the hair on, and
hanging down to his toes ; a pair of bear skin stock-
ings ; and a great wooden face painted, the one half
black, the other half tawny, about the colour of an
Indian's skin, with au extravagant mouth, cut very
much awry; the face fastened to a bear skin cap,
which was drawn over his head. He advanced
towards me with the instrument in his hand, which
he used for music in his idolatrous worship ; which
was a dry tortoise shell with some corn in it, and the
neck of it drawn on to a piece of wood, which made
a very convenient handle. As he came forward, he
beat his tune with the rattle, ami danced with all
his might, but did not suffer any part of his body,
not so much as his fingers, to be seen. No one
would have imagined from his appearance or actions,
that he could have been a human creature, if they
had not had some intimation of it otherwise.
When he came near me, I could not but shrink away
from him, although it was then noon day, and I
knew who it was ; his appearance and gestures
were so prodigiously frightful. He had a house
consecrated to religious uses, with divers images cut
upon the several parts of it. I went in, and found
the ground beat almost as hard as a rock, with their
frequent dancing upon it. I discoursed with him
about Christianity. Some of my discourse he
seemed to like, but some of it he disliked extremely.
He told me that God had taught him his religion,
and that he never would turn from it ; but wanted
to find some who would join heartily with him in
it ; for the Indians, he said, were grown very dege-
nerate and corrupt. He had thoughts, he said, of
leaving all his friends, and travelling abroad, in
order to find some who would join with him ; for
lie believed that God had some good people some
where, who felt as he did. He had not always, he
said, felt as he now did ; but had formerly been like
the rest of the Indians, until about four or five years
before that time. Then, he said, his heart was very
much distressed, so that he could not live among the
Indians, but got away into the woods, and lived
alone for some months. At length, he says, God
comforted his heart, and showed him what lie should
do ; and since that time he had known God, and

* Memoirs of tho Eev. David Brainerd : Missionary to the
Indiaus on the borders of New York, New Jersey, and Penn-
sylvania: chiefly taken from his own Diary. By Iiev. Jona-
than Edwards, of Northampton. Including his Journal, now
for the first time incorporated with the rest of his Diary, in a
regular Chronological series. By Sereno Edwards Dwight.
New-Haven: Printed and published by 3. Converse. 1822.

t Sbaumokung, on the Susquehanna.

tried to serve him ; and loved all men, be they who
they would, so as he never did before. He treated
me with uncommon courtesy, and seemed to be
hearty in it. I was told by the Indians, that he
opposed their drinking strong liquor with all his
power ; and that, if at any time he could not dis-
suade them from it by all he could say, he would
leave them, and go crying into the woods. It was
manifest that he had a set of religious notions which
he had examined for himself, and not taken for
granted, upon bare tradition ; and he relished or
disrelished whatever was spoken of a religious
nature, as it either agreed or disagreed with Ms
standard. While 1 was discoursing, he would some-
times say, " Now that I like ; so God has taught
me ;" tfec, and some of his sentiments seemed very
just. Yet he utterly denied the existence of a
devil, and declared there was no such creature
known among the Indians of old times, whose reli-
gion he supposed he was attempting to revive. He
likewise told me, that departed souls all went south-
ward, and that the difference between the good and
the bad, was this : that the former were admitted
into a beautiful town with spiritual walls ; and that
the latter would for ever hover around these walls,
in vain attempts to get in. He seemed to be sin-
cere, honest, and conscientious in his own way, and
according to his own religious notions ; which was
more than I ever saw in any other Pagan. I per-
ceived that he was looked upon and derided among
most of the Indians, as a precise zealot, who made a
needless noise about religious matters; but I must
say that there was something in his temper and dis-
position, which looked more like true religion, than
any thing I ever observed amongst other heathens.

But alas ! how deplorable is the state of the In-
dians upon this river I The brief representation
which I have here given of their notions and man-
ners, is sufficient to show that they are " led captive
by Satan at his will," in tlie most eminent manner ;
and methiuks might likewise be sufficient to excite
the compassion, and engage the prayers, of pious
souls for these their fellow-men, who sit " in the
regions of the shadow of death."

JAMES McSPAPvEAN.
The Rev. James McSpaeran, of the church of
Narraghansett, was one of the pioneer band of
English clergymen whose influence is often to be
noticed in cementing the foundations of Ameri-
can progress. His family was from the north of
Ireland, having emigrated from Scotland. He
had a good classical education, and came a mis-
sionary to Narraghansett, in Rhode Island, from
the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in
Foreign Parts, in 1721 . The next year lie married
Miss Harriet Gardiner, a lady of the place. Ho
was intimate with Berkeley during the residence
of the Dean at Newport. In 1736, he visited
England, and returned with the title of Doctor of
Divinity, from Glasgow. His pulpit exercises in
the church of St. Paul's were of an eloquent cha-
racter, if we may judge from the sermon which
he delivered on the loth March, 1740, when war,
pestilence, and an unusually protracted and severe
winter oppressed the country.* In 1747, he
preached tin eloquent sermon before the conven-
tion of the Episcopal clergy, in Trinity Church,
Newport, which was printed. He asserted the

* Large portions of the sermon are printed in Updike's Hist
Narr. Ch. 191-201.

Hi

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

claims of his Episcopal order in another dis-
course which was printed at Newport, in 1751,
The Sacred Dignity of the Christian Priesthood
Vindicated. In 1752, he wrote an historical
tract of merit, America Dissected, which was
published at Dublin, in 1753. It is in three letters
giving an account of the "English American
Dominions," beginning with the Bermudas and
Georgia, and proceeding northerly to Newfound-
land.* It was his intention to publish an extended
history of the colonies, especially of New Eng-
land ; and it was supposed he had completed a
history of the Narraghansett country, but no
such work has been found among his papers.
He died at his house, in South Ejngstown, Dec. 1,
1757, having sustained manfully a career of many
difficulties.

TEE COLD wrNTKR, 1740-1.

The elements have been armed with such piercing
cold and suffocating snows, as if God intended the
air that he gave us to live and breathe in should
become the instrument to execute his vengeance on
us, for our ingratitude to his goodness, and our
transgression of his law. We may contemplate to
our comfort the wisdom and power of God in the
beautiful structure of the heavens, and his wise
sorting of the seasons, for the benefit and delight of
man. But as no human skill can count the number
of the stars, nor call them by their names, so exceeds
the utmost art of astronomy, for either extreme heat
or extreme cold, otherwise than by the distance of
the sun ; yet what we see have variations and vicis-
situdes that do not always correspond to that cause.
It is no small comfort to consider God's care to pro-
vide food for the beasts of the field and the fowls of
the air, and to supply their starving importunity.
And our gratitude grows, as we are assured all this
is ultimately intended as a kindness and bounty for
the souls of men. But how, of late, has the grazier
groaned to see the severity of the season, to hear
his herds and his flocks making moan for their meat;
and after a few fruitless complaints uttered in
accents peculiar to their kind, drop down and die,
and disappoint the increase and expectation of the
spring.

With what amazement do we behold and can ill
endure God's sudden and intolerable cold, that pro-
ceeds from the breath of his nostrils ! The snow
that looks so white, innocent, and light, as if it
would bear down and oppress nothing, yet we see
it hides and covers the earth from the warmth and
light of the sun ; and thus does also the ice turn
rivers into rocks, and the 6ea (as it were) into dry
land. We see the fluid element, which yielded to
the smallest force, become so hard and rigid, that it
resists the impression of the traveller's foot, and the
weight of beasts and burthens with a firmness
superior to the driest land.

Boreas has so far entered into the chambers of the
south, that he hath sealed up the sun and inter-
cepted his dissolving influence ; and southern snowTs
are signs of that planet's impotent efforts to regain
his usurped dominions. The great luminary that
rules the day, has now advanced and displayed his
banner on this side of the Line, yet so faint are his
armies, though innumerable, and each atom har-
nessed in fire, that they cannot force the frost to
give ground, nor dissolve the intrenchrnent of snow.
No arm that is not almighty can melt or open what

* It is printed at the close of Updike's Hist. Nan. Ch. 483-
588.

Orion has shut up, bound in bands, and hardened;
or freeze and make fast what the Pleiades have
loosed and softened; the first being the eonstella^
tion, which in the Omnipotent's hands beget and
begin the winter ; as the other are the orbs that
attend the advancing Spring.

How many sad remembrances do remain, to
remind us of the past, winter-? The husbandman
and the mariner, the rich and the poor, have already
sensibly felt its bad effects, and though the dissolved
rivers have opened their mouths, returned to their
channels, and offer their usual administrations to
navigation, fishing and commerce; yet alas! are not
the cattle now corrupting in the fields, and that
after they have consumed most of the corn that
might have maintained us to that time ?

Famine of food, which though (blessed be God,)
we do not yet feel, we have, notwithstanding, some
reason to fear. Whatever second causes concur to
occasion a scarcity of food, nature becomes the
hungry man's executioner and tormenter, racking
him with an impatient and importunate appetite,
when there is nothing to allay or relieve it.

JONATHAN MATTHEW.

Jonathan Matiiew, a great-grandson of Thomas
Mayhew, the first minister at Martha's Vineyard,
was born on that island, where his father main-
tained the ministry which had been held in his
family since the time of the progenitor of whom we
have spoken, October 8, 1720. He was graduated
with distinction at Harvard, in 1744, and in 1747
was ordained pastor of the west church, in Bos-
ton, where he remained until his death, on the
ninth of July, 1766.

On the 30th January, 1750, he preached a ser-
mon bearing on the execution of Charles I., which
was remarkable for its independent views on the
duties of rulers ana the limits of allegiance.

In 1763, the Rev. East Apthorpe,* one of the
Missionaries of the Society for the Propagation
of the Gospel in Foreign Parts, published " Con-
siderations on the Institution and Conduct " of
that society, in reply to an attack upon it which
had appeared in a local journal, after the death
of the society's missionary at Braintree, charging
the association with a departure from its duties
in supporting a clergyman of the English Church
in a settlement where other provision for religious
instruction had been made. His pamphlet was
taken up by Dr. Mayhew, who published Ob-
servations on the Charter and Conduct of the
society. A controversy ensued in which many
of the New England clergy took part, the anti-
cipated introduction of bishops naturally height-
ening the warmth of the discussion on both sides
of the question.

Dr. Mayhew early embraced the popular side
in the revolutionary struggle, and took an active
part in the movements which preceded the con-

* East Apthorpe, the son of Charles Apthorpe, a merchant
of Boston, was born in 1733, and educated at Jesus College,
Cambridge, England. He was appointed, in 1761, missionary
at Cambridge, Mass., by the Society for Propagating the Gospel
in Foreign Parts. He returned not long after to England ; was
made vicar of Croydon, in 1765 ; rector of Eowchurch, London,
in 1778; and in 179D, having become blind, exchanged these
livings for a prebendary's stall. He passed the last years of his
life at Cambridge. England, where he died, April 10, 1S1G. In
addition to his "productions on the Episcopal controversy, he
was the author of Discourses on Prophecy, at the Warburton
lecture, Lincoln's Inn, 2 vols., London, and an answer to Gib-
bon's account of the causes of the spread of early Christianity.

JONATHAN MAYHEW.

145

test, by his discourses and personal influence. His
sermon on the Repeal of the Stamp Act, in 1766,

shows that he brought all his energy to the service
of his country, and in common with his numerous
other printed discourses, displays vigor of mind
and eloquence.

A " Memoir of the Life and Writings of Rev.
Jonathan Mayhew, D.D., by Alden Bradford,"
appeared at Boston, in 1838.

In his theological views he differed from the
majority of his Congregational brethren, inclining
to those of the Unitarians.

PROM "THE 6NAP.E BROKEN,'1 A TIIANKSOIVTNG DISCOURSE
PREACHED AT THE DESIRE OF THE WEST CHURCH IN BOSTON,
N. E., FRIDAY, MAY 23, 17G6; OCCASIONED BY THE REPEAL
OF THE STAMP ACT.

Brethren, ye have been called unto Liberty; only use not
Liberty for an occasion to the Jlesh, but by love serve one-
another. — Ap. Paul.

We have never known so quick and general a
transition from the depth of sorrow to the height of
joy, as on this occasion ; nor, indeed, so great and
universal a flow of either, on any other occasion
whatever. It is very true, we have heretofore seen
times of great adversity. We have known seasons
of drought, dearth and spreading mortal diseases;
the pestilence walking in darkness, and the destruc-
tion wasting at noonday. We have seen wide de-
vastations made by fire; and amazing tempests, the
heavens on flame, the winds and the waves roaring.
We have known repeated earthquakes, threatening
us witli speedy destruction. We have been under
great apprehensions by reason of formidable fleets
of an enemy on our coasts, menacing fire and sword
to all our maritime towns. We have known times
when the French and Savage armies made terrible
havoek on our frontiers, carrying all before them for
a while ; when we were not without fear, that some
capital towns in the colonies would fall into their
merciless hands. Such times as these we have
known ; at some of which almost every " face ga-
thered paleness," and the knees of all but the good
and brave, waxed feeble. But never have we known

VOL. I. — 10

a season of such universal consternation and anxiety
among people of all ranks and ages, in these colonies,
as was occasioned by that parliamentary procedure,
which threatened us and our posterity with perpe-
tual bondage and slavery. For they, as we gene-
rally suppose, are really slaves to all intents and
purposes, who are obliged to labor and toil only for
the benefit of others; or, which comes to the same
thing, the fruit of whose labor and industry may be
lawfully taken from them without their consent, and
they justly punished if they refuse to surrender it on
demand, or apply it to other purposes than those,
which their masters, of their mere grace and plea-
sure, see fit to allow. Nor are there many American.
understandings acute enough to distinguish any ma-
terial difference between this being done by a single
person, under the title of an absolute monarch, and
done by a far-distant legislature consisting of many
persons, in which they are not represented; and the
members whereof, instead of feeling, and sharing
equally with them in the burden thus imposed, are
eased of their own in proportion to the greatness and
weight of it. It may be questioned, whether the
ancient Greeks or Romans, or any other nation in
which slavery was allowed, carried their idea of it
much farther than this. So that our late apprehen-
sions, and universal consternation, on account of
!" ourselves and posterity, were far, very far indeed,
from being groundless. For what is there in this
world more wretched, than for those who were born
free, and have a right to continue so, to be made
slaves themselves, and to think of leaving a race of
slaves behind them ; even though it be to masters,
confessedly the most humane and generous in the
world! Or what wonder is it, if after groaning
with a low voice for a while to no purpose, we at
length groaned so loudly, as to be heard more than
three thousand miles ; and to be pitied throughout
Europe, wherever it is not. hazardous to mention
even the name of liberty, unless it be to reproach it,
as only another name for sedition, faction or rebel-
lion?

******

The repeal, the repeal, has at once, in a good
measure, restored things to order, and composed our
minds by removing the chief ground of our fears.
The course of justice between man and man is no
longer obstructed ; commerce lifts up her head,
adorned with golden tresses, pearls, and precious
stones. All things that went on right before are re-
turning gradually to their former course ; those that
did not we have reason to hope will go on better
now ; almost every person you meet wears the smiles
of contentment and joy ; and even our slaves rejoice
as though they had received their manumission. In-
deed, all the lovers of liberty in Europe, in the
world, have reason to rejoice; the cause is, in some
measure, common to them and us. Blessed revolu-
tion ! glorious change! How great are our obliga-
tions for it to the Supreme Governor of the world !
He hath given us beauty for ashes, and the oil of
gladness for the spirit of heaviness. He hath turned
our groans into songs, our mourning into dancing.
He hath put off our sackcloth, and girded us with
gladness, to the end that our tongues, our glory may
sing praises to him. Let us all, then, rejoice in the
Lord, and give honor to him ; not forgetting to add
the obedience of our lives, as the best sacrifice that
we can offer to Heaven ; and which, if neglected,
will prove all our other sacrifices have been but
ostentation and hypocrisy, which are an abomina-
tion to the Lord.

If I may be indidged here in saying a few words

UG

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.'

more, respecting my notions of liberty in general,
Bueh as they are, it shall be as fellows :

Having been initiated in youth in the doctrines
of civil liberty, as they were taught by such men as
Plato, Demosthenes, Cicero, and other renowned
persons among the ancients; and such as Sidney and
Milton, Locke and Hoadley, among the moderns; I
liked them; they seemed rational. Having earlier
still learned from the Holy Scriptures, that wise,
brave, and virtuous men were always friends to
liberty; that God gave the Israelites a king [or ab-
solute monarch] in his anger, because they had not
sense and virtue enough to like a free common-
wealth, and to have himself for their king ; that the
Son of God came down from heaven to make us
" free indeed ;" and that " where the Spirit of the
Lord is, there is liberty ;" this made me conclude
that freedom was a great blessing. Having, also,
from my childhood up, by the kind providence of
my God, and the tender care of a good parent now
at rest with Him, been educated to the love of
liberty, though not of licentiousness; which chaste
and virtuous passion was still increased in me, as I
advanced towards and into manhood ; I would not,
I cannot now, though past middle age, relinquish
the fair object of my youthful affection, Liberty,
whose charms, instead of decaying with time in my
eyes, have daily captivated me more and more. I
was accordingly penetrated with the most sensible
grief, when, about the first of November last, that
day of darkness, a day hardly to be numbered with
the other days of the year, she seemed about to take
her final departure from America, and to leave that
ugly hag, Slavery, the deformed child of Satan, in
her room. I am now filled with a proportionable
degree of joy in God, on occasion of her speedy re-
turn, with new smiles on her face, with augmented
beauty and splendor. — Once more, then, Hail! ce-
lestial maid, the daughter of God, and, excepting
his iron, the firstborn of heaven ! Welcome to these
shores again; welcome to every expanding heart!
Long mayest thou reside among us, the delight of
the wise, good, and brave ; the protectress of inno-
cence from wrongs and opprcs ion ; the patroness of
learning, arts, eloquence, virtue, rational loyalty,
religion ! And if any miserable people on the con-
tinent or isles of Europe, after being weakened by
luxury, debauchery, venality, intestine quarrels, or
other vices, should, in the rude collisions, or now-
uncertain revolutions of kingdoms, be driven, in
their extremity, to seek a safe retreat from slavery
in some far distant climale; let them find, O let
them find one in America under thy brooding sacred
wii gs, where our oppressed fathers once found it,
and we now enjoy it, by the favor of Him, whose
service is the most glorious freedom! Never, 0
never may He permit them to forsake us, for our
unworthiness to enjoy thy enlivening presence ! By
His high permission attend us through life and death
to the regions of the blessed, thy original abode,
there to enjoy forever the " glorious liberty of the
sons of God!" — But I forget myself; whither have
I been hurried by this enthusiasm, or whatever else
you will please to call it ? I hope your candor will
forgive this odd excursion, for which I hardly know
how to account myself.

JOHN WOOLMAN.
" Get," says Charles Lamb, in one of the Essays
of Elia, " the writings of John Woolraan by heart,
and love the early Quakers."

The result is not unlikely to follow, even if the
reader stop short of the thoroughness of study
recommended. John Woohnan's writings are

not, however, of formidable bulk, being comprised
in a duodecimo of about five hundred pages.
They are principally occupied with The Journal
of his life and travels in the service of the Gos-
pel, and as the best introduction of the man, we
proceed to some consideration of this which may
emphatically be called a portion of his works.

" Having often felt a motion of love to leave
some hints in writing of my experience of the
goodness of God," he in the thirty-sixth year of
his age addressed himself to the task.

7-Uiy??-. .

Tic was born i n Northampton, Burlington county,
AY est Jersey, in 1720, and before the age of seven
" began to be acquainted with the operations of
Divine love. " He remembered sitting down once
on his way from school, and reading the descrip-
tion of the new heavens and new earth in the
Book of Revelation, and by this and like exercises
he was preserved from acquiring the habit of using
ill language and other evils.

He records an early case of conscience.

A thing remarkable in my childhood was, that
once going to a neighbour's house, I saw, on the
way, a robin sitting on her nest, and as I came
near she went off, but having young ones flew
about, and with many cries expressed her concern
for them; I stood and threw stones at her, till one
striking her, she fell down dead : at first I was
pleased with the exploit, but after a few minutes
was seized with horror, as having, in a sportive way,
killed an innocent creature while she was careful
tor her young : I beheld her lying dead, and
thought these young ones for which she was so
careful, must now perish for want of their dam to
nourish them ; and after some painful considera-
tions on the subject I climbed up the tree, took all
the young birds, and killed them ; supposing that
better than to leave them to pine away and die mi-
serably : and believed, in this case, that scripture
proverb was fulfilled, " The tender mercies of the
wicked are cruel." I then went on my errand, but,
for some hours could think of little else but the
cruelties I had committed, and was much troubled.
Thus He whose tender mercies are over all his
works, hath placed a principle in the human mind
which incites -to exercise goodness towards every
living creature ; and this being singly attended to,
people become tender-hecrted and sympathizing;
but being frequently and totally rejected, the mind
becomes shut up in a contrary disposition.

As he advanced to the age of sixteen, he found
himself losing his childish purity. In his own
words, " I perceived a plant in me which pro-
duced much wild grapes." A fit of sickness,
"from which I doubted of recovering," brought
serious thoughts to his mind, and with advancing
years he became more and more weaned from the
world.

He remained with his parents, " and wrought
on the plantation" until his twenty-first year,
when " a man in much business at shop-keeping
and baking asked me, if I would hire with him to
tend shop and keep books." Accepting this pro-
posal, his employer furnished a shop in Mount
Holly, a few miles distant, where Woolman lived
alone. He was troubled at first by the visits of

JOHN WOOXMArf.

147

" Several young people, my former acquaintance,
who knew not but varieties would be as agreeable
to me now as ever ;" but these gay companions
soon " gave over expecting him as one of their
company."

He not long after made his first essay as a
speaker.

I went to meetings in an awful frame of mind, and
endeavoured to be inwardly acquainted with the
language of the true Shepherd ; and one day, being
under a strong exercise of spirit, I stood up, and
said some words in a meeting; but not keeping
close to the divine opening, I said more than was
required of me ; and being soon sensible of my error,
I was afflicted in mind some weeks, without any
light or comfort, even to that degree that I could
not take satisfaction in any thing : I remembered
God, and was troubled ; and, in the depth of my
distress, he had pity upon me, and sent the Com-
forter : I then felt forgiveness for my offence, and
my mind became calm and quiet, being truly thank-
ful to my gracious Redeemer for his mercies ; and
after this, feeling the spring of divine love opened,
and a concern to speak, I said a few words in a
meeting, in which I found peace ; this, I believe,
was about six weeks from the first time : and, I was
thus humbled -and disciplined under the cross, my
understanding became more strengthened to distin-
guish the pure spirit which inwardly moves upon
the heart and taught me to wait in silence some-
times many weeks together, until I felt that rise
which prepares the creature to stand like a trum-
pet, through which the Lord speaks to his flock.

We next find him a protester against holiday
junketing.

About the time called Christmas, I observed many
people from the country, and dwellers in town,
who, resorting to public-houses, spent their time in
drinking and vain sports, tending to corrupt one
another ; on which account I was much troubled.
At one house in particular there was mueh disorder;
and I believed it was a duty incumbent on me to go
ami speak to the master of that house. I considered
I was young, and that several elderly Friends in
town had opportunity to see these things; but
though I would gladly have been excused, yet I
could not f- my mind clear.

The exercise was heavy ; and as I was reading
what the Almighty said to Ezekiel, respecting his
duty as a watchman, the matter was set home
more clearly ; and then, with prayers and tears,- 1 be-
Bought the Lord for his assistance, who, in loving
kindness, gave me a resigned heart: then, at a suit-
able opportunity, I went to the public-house; and
seeing the man amongst much company, I went to
him, and told him, I wanted to speak with him ;
so we went aside, and there, in the fear and dread
of the Almighty, I exprest to him what rested on my
mind, which he took kindly, and afterwards showed
more regard to me than before. In a few years
afterwards he died, middle-aged; and I often
thought, that had I neglected my duty in that case,
it would have given me great trouble ; and I was
humbly thankful to my gracious Father, who had
supported me herein.

On the fifth day of the ninth month he set out
on his first journey, in company with an ancient
friend, Abraham Farrington, and was absent
above two weeks. On his return, " perceiving
merchandise to be attended with much cumber,
in the way of trading in these parts," he looked

about for a quieter occupation, and settled upon
the sedentary calling of a tailor,

I believed the hand of Providence pointed out
this business for me; and was taught to be content
with it, though I felt at times a disposition that
would have sought for something greater ; but
through the revelation of Jesus Christ, I had seen
the happiness of humility, and there was an earnest
desire in me to enter deep into it; and, at times,
this desire arose to a degree of fervent supplication,
wherein my soul was so environed with heavenly
light and consolation, that things were made easy
to me which had been otherwise.

After " carefully attending meetings for worship
and discipline," he " found an enlargement of gos-
pel love in his mind," and " therein a concern to
visit Friends in some of the back settlements of
Virginia," and finding that Isaac Andrews had
" drawings" of a similar character, the pair started
1 on a tour on the twelfth day of the third month,
in the year 17-16. He found this journey so satis-
factory, that he seems to have henceforward
adopted itineracy as a regular pursuit.

In 1749, he married " a well-inclined damsel,"
Sarah Ellis. In 1753, he submitted a tract
against slavery, which he had prepared some
years before, " to the revisal of Friends, who
having examined and made some small alterations
in it, directed a number of copies thereof to be
published and dispersed amongst Friends." This
was a subject on which he spoke and wrote fre-
quently. Anticipating the removal of the sys-
tem from his own neighborhood, he was equally
desirous of its extinction in all parts of the
country.

At a drafting of militia in 1757, during the
French War, he, with others whom he influenced,
declined to bear arms or hire substitutes. They
were told they might return home for the pre-
sent, and to be in readiness when called upon.
The emergency never occurred. Woolman car-
ried his scruples still further.

On the fourth day of the fourth month, in the
year 1758, orders came to some oliicers in Mount-
Holly, to prepare quarters, a short time, for about
one hundred soldiers : and an officer and two other
men, all inhabitants of our town, came to my house;
and the officer told me, that he came to speak with
me, to provide lodging and entertainment for two
soldiers, there being six shillings a week per man
allowed as pay for it. The case being new and un-
expected, I made no answer suddenly, but sat a time
silent, my mind being inward ; I was fully convinced,
that the proceedings in wars are inconsistent with
the purity of the Christian religion: and to be hired
to entertain men who were then under pay as sol-
diers, was a difficulty with me. I expected they
had legal authority for what they did ; and after a
short time, I said to the officer, if the men are sent
here for entertainment, I believe I shall not refuse
to admit them into my house ; but the nature of the
J case is such, that I expect I cannot keep them on
I hire: one of the men intimated that he thought I
might do it consistent with my religious principles ;
to which I made no reply, as believing silence, at
that time, best for me. Though they spake of two,
there came only one, who tarried at my house about
two weeks, and behaved himself civilly ; and when
the officer came to pay me, I told him I could not
take pay for it, having admitted him into my house

148

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

in a passive obedience to authority. I was on horse-
back when he spake to me ; and as I turned from
him, he said he was obliged to me: to which I said
nothing; but thinking on the expression, I grew
uneasy ; and afterwards being near where he lived,
I went and told him on what grounds I refused
taking pay for keeping the soldier.

In 1763 he determined to visit the Indians on
the east branch of the Susquehannah, some of
whom he had met at Philadelphia. Some Friends
who had heard of his intention came from that
city to him, " so late, that friends were generally
gone to bed," to warn him that the Indians " had
taken a fort from the English westward, and slain
and scalped English people in divers places, some
near Pittsburg," and of the consetpient dangers
of the journey; but he was not to be deterred,'
and on the following' morning set out with two
companions and a guide. The journey occupied
the greater portion of the month of June ; and its
record forms some of the pleasantest portions of
our Friend's Journal. We extract some pas-
sages : —

We reached the Indian settlement at Wioming :
and here we were told that an Indian runner had
been at that place a day or two before us, and
brought news of the Indians taking an English fort,
westward, and destroying the people, and that they
were endeavouring to take another ; and also, that
another Indian runner came there about the middle
of the night before we got there, who came from a
town about ten miles above Wehaloosing, and
brought news, that some Indian warriors, from dis-
tant parts, came to that town with two English
scalps ; and told the people that it was war with
the English.

Our guides took us to the house of a very ancient
man ; and soon after we had put in our baggage
there came a man from another Indian house some
distance off; and I, perceiving there was a man
near the door, went out ; and he having a tomahawk,
wrapped under his matchcoat out of sight, as I ap-
proached him, he took it in his hand ; I, however,
went forward, and, speaking to him in a friendly
way, perceived he understood some English: my
companion then coming out we had some talk with
him concerning the nature of our visit in these
part* ; and then he, going into the house with us,
and talking with our guides, soon appeared friendly,
and sat down and smoaked his pipe. Though his
taking the hatchet in his hand at the instant 1 drew
near to him, hail a disitgreeable appearance, I be-
lieve he had no other intent than to be in readiness
in case any violence was offered to him.

Hearing the news brought by these Indian run- |
ners, and being told by the Indians where we
lodged, that what Indians were about Wioming ex-
pected, in a few days, to move to some larger towns,
I thought that, to all outward appearance, it was
dangerous travelling at this time; and was, after a
hard day's journey, brought into a painful exercise
at night, in which I had to trace back, and view
over the steps I had taken from my first moving in
the visit ; and though I had to bewail some weak-
ness, which, at times, had attended me, yet I could
not find that I had ever given way to a wilful dis-
obedience: and then, as I believed I had, under a
Bense of duty, come thus far, I was now earnest in
spirit, beseeching the Lord to show me what I ought
to do. In this great distress I grew jealous of my-
self, lest the desire of reputation, as a man firmly
settled to persevere through dangers, or the fear of

disgrace arising on my returning without perform-
ing the visit, might have some place in me: thus I
lay, full of thoughts, great part of the night, while
my beloved companion lay and slept by me ; till the
Lord, my gracious Father, who saw the conflicts of
my soul, was pleased to give quietness: then I was
again strengthened to commit my life, and all things
relating thereto, into his heavenly hands; and get-
ting a little sleep toward day, when morning came
we arose.

On the fourteenth day of the sixth month, we
sought out and visited all the Indians hereabouts
that we could meet with ; they being chiefly in one
place, about a mile from where we lodged, in all
perhaps twenty. Here I expressed the care I had on
my mind for their good ; I told them, that true love
had made me willing thus to leave my family to
come and see the Indians, and speak with them in
their houses. Some of them appeared kind and
friendly. So we took our leave of these Indians,
and went up the river Susquehannah, about three
miles, to the house of an Indian called Jacob Janu-
ary, who had killed his hog ; and the women were
making store of bread, and preparing to move up
the river. Here our pilots left their canoe when
they came down in the Spring, which, lying dry,
was leaky ; so that we, being detained some hours,
had a good deal of friendly conversation with the
family; and, eating dinner with them, we made
them some small presents. Then, putting our bag-
gage in the canoe, some of them pushed slowly up
the stream, and the rest of us rode our horses : and
swimming them over a creek called Lahawahamunk,
we pitched our tent a little above it, being a shower
in the evening; and in a sense of God's goodness in
helping nre in my distress, sustaining me under tri-
als, and inclining my heart to trust in him, I lay
down in an humble bowed frame of mind, and had
a comfortable night's lodging.

In 1772, after a long and debilitating sickness,
" having been some time under a religious con-
cern to prepare for crossing the seas," he made
preparations to visit England. In consequence of
singular religious scruples he took passage in the
steerage.

I told the owner, that on the outside of that part
of the ship where the cabbin was, I observed sundry
sorts of carved work and imagery : and that in the
cabbin I observed some superfluity of workmanship
of several sorts ; and that according to the ways of
men's reckoning, the sum of money to be paid for a
passage in that apartment, hath some relation to the
expence of furnishing it to please the minds of such
who give way to a conformity to this world ; and
that in this case, as in other cases, the money re-
ceived from the passengers, are calculated to answer
every expence relating to their passage, and amongst
the rest, of these superfluities : and that in this case,
I felt a scruple with regard to paying my money to
defray such expenees.

As my mind was now opened, I told the owner,
that I had, at several times in my travels, seen great
oppressions on this continent, at which my heart
had been much affected, and brought into a feeling
of the state of the sufferers. And having many
times been engaged, in the fear and love of God, to
labour with those under whom the oppressed have
been borne down and afflicted, I have often per-
ceived, that a view to get riches, and provide
estates for children to live conformable to customs,
which stand in that spirit wherein men have regard
to the honours of this world — that in the pursuit of
these things, I had seen many entangled in the spi-

JOHN WOOLMAN.

149

rit of oppression ; and the exercise of my soul had
been such, that I could not find peace in joining in
any such thing which I saw was against that wis-
dom which is pure.

His account of the voyage contains many
humane and sensible suggestions for the better
care of sailors, and abounds in devout and well
penned reflections. On bis arrival in England he
visited a few meetings of his sect. He refused to
travel by stage-coach or receive letters by post,
on humanitarian grounds.

As my journey hath been without a horse, I have
had several offers of being assisted on my way in
the stage coaches; but have not been in them: nor
have I hud freedom to send letters by the posts, in
the present way of their riding ; the stages being
so fixed, and one boy dependent on another as to
time, that they commonly go upwards of one hun-
dred miles in twenty-four hours ; and in the cold
long winter nights, the poor boys suffer much.

I heard in America of the way of these posts ;
and cautioned friends in the general meeting of mi-
nisters and elders at Philadelphia, and in the yearly-
meeting of ministers and elders at Loudon, not to
send letters to me on any common occasion by post.
And though, on this account, I may be likely to
hear seldomer from my family left behind : yet, for
righteousness' sake, I am, through Divine favour,
made content.

He was also troubled about dye-stuffs.

Having of late travelled often in wet weather,
through narrow streets in towns and villages, where
dirtiness under foot, and the scent arising from that
filth, which more or less infects the air of all thick
settled towns; and I, being but weakly, have felt
distress both in body and mind with that which is
impure.

In these journies I have been where much cloth
hath been dyed ; and sundry times walked over
ground, where much of their dye stuffs have drained
away.

Here I have felt a longing in my mind, that peo-
ple might come into cleanness of spirit, cleanness
of person, cleanness about their houses and gar-
ments.

Some, who are great, carry delicacy to a great
height themselves, and yet the real cleanliness is
not generally promoted. Dyes being invented
partly to please the eye, and partly to hide dirt, I
have felt in this weak state, travelling in dirtiness
and affected with unwholesome scents, a strong de-
sire that the nature of dying cloth, to hide dirt, may
be more fully considered.

To hide dirt in our garments, appears opposite to
the real cleanliness.

To wasli garments, and keep them sweet, this ap-
pears cleanly.

Through giving way to hiding dirt in our gar-
ments, a spirit which would cover that which is dis-
agreeable, is strengthened.

Real cleanness becometh a holy people : but hid-
ing that which is not clean by colouring our gar-
ments appears contrary to the sweetness of sincerity.

Through some sorts of dyes, cloth is less useful ;
and if the value of dye-stuffs, the expence of dying,
and the damage done to cloth, were all added to-
gether, and that expence applied to keep all sweet
and clean, how mucli more cleanly would people be.

The journal closes abruptly, a few pages after,
with some remarks on eloquence, which have
much of the quality of which they treat.

The natural man loveth eloquence, and many love
to hear eloquent orations ; and if there is not a care-
ful attention to the gift, men wdio have once la-
boured in the pure gospel ministry, growing weary
of suffering, and ashamed of appearing weak, may
kindle a fire, compass themselves about with sparks,
and walk in the light, not of Christ who is under
suffering; but of that fire, which they, going from
the gift, have kindled: And that in hearers, which
are gone from the meek, suffering state, into the
worldly wisdom, may be warmed with this fire, and
speak highly of these labours. That which i3 of
God gathers to God ; and that which is of the world
is owned by the world.

In this journey a labour hath attended my mind,
that the ministers amongst us may be preserved in
the meek feeling life of Truth, where we may have
no desire, but to follow Christ and be with him ;
that when he is under suffering we may suffer with
him; and never desire to raise up in dominion,
but as he by the virtue of his own spirit may raise
us.

A few days after writing these considerations,
" our dear friend," says the kind hand who con-
tinues the record, " came to the city of York,"
where before the sittings of the quarterly meeting
were over, he was taken ill of the small-pox. An
account of his sickness from day to day follows.

His disorder appeared to be the small-pox: being
asked to have a doctor's advice, he signified he had
not freedom or liberty in his mind so to do, standing
wholly resigned to his will, who gave him life, and
whose power he had witnessed to raise and heal
him in sickness before, when he seemed nigh unto
death; and if he was to wind up now, he was per-
fectly resigned, having no will either to live or die,
and did not choose any should be sent for to him :
but a young man, an apothecary, coining of his own
accord the next day, and desiring to do something
for him, he said he found a freedom to confer with
him and the other friends about him, and if any
thing should be propose'!, as to medicine, that did
not come through defiled channels or oppressive
hands, he should be willing to consider and take, so
far as he found freedom.

The disease made rapid and fatal progress.
His last act, "about the second hour on fourth-day
morning," was to call for pen and ink, and, being
unable to speak, write, " I believe my being here
is in the wisdom of Christ, I know not as to life
or death."

Four hours after, he expired " without sigh,
groan, or struggle."

Woolman's chief productions, in addition to his
Journal, are — Some Considerations on the Keep-
ing of Negroes, the tract already referred to ;
Considerations on Pure Wisdom and Human
Policy, on Labour, on Schools, and on the Right
Use of the Lord's Outward Gifts, 1768; Conside-
rations on the True Harmony of Mankind, and
how it is to be Maintained, 1770; Memories on
Sundry Subjects, 1773 ; An E2'istle to the Quar-
terly and Monthly Meetings of Friends, 1772;
and A Word of Remembrance and Caution to the
Rich. Our extract is taken from the Remarks on
Sundry Subjects.

Worship in silence hath often been refreshing to
my mind, and a care attends me that a young gene-
ration may feel the nature of this worship.

150

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Great expence ariseth in relation to that which is
called Divine worship.

A considerable part of this expence is applied
toward outward greatness, and many poor people,
in raising of tithes, labour in supporting customs
contrary to the simplicity that there is in Christ,
toward whom my mind hath often been moved
with pity.

In pure, silent worship, we dwell under the holy
anointing, and feel Christ to be our shepherd.

Here the best of teachers ministers to the several
conditions of his flock, and the soul receives imme-
diately from the Divine fountain that with which it
is nourished.

As I have travelled, at times, where those of
other societies have attended our meetings, and have
perceived how little some of them knew of the na-
ture of silent worship, I have felt tender desires, in
my heart, that we, who often sit silent in our meet-
ings, may live answerable to the nature of an inward
fellowship with God, that no stumbling-block,
through us, may be laid in their way.

Such is the load of unnecessary expence which
lieth on that which is called Divine service, in many
places, and so much are the minds of many people
employed in outward forms and ceremonies, that
the opening of an inward silent worship in this na-
tion, to me, hath appeared to be a precious opening.

Within the last four hundred years many pious
people have been deeply exercised in soul on account
of the superstition which prevailed amongst the
professed followers of Christ, and, in support of
their testimony against oppressive idolatry, some,
in several ages, have finished their course in the
flames.

It appears by the history of the Reformation,
that, through the faithfulness of the mart3Trs, the
understandings of many have been opened, and the
minds of people from age to age, been more and
more prepared for a real, spiritual worship.

My mind is often affected with a sense of the con-
dition of those people who, in different ages, have
been meek and patient, following Christ through
great afflictions; and while I behold the several
steps of reformation, and that clearness to which,
through Divine goodness, it hath been brought bj'
our ancestors, I feel tender desires that we, who
sometimes meet in silence, may never, by our con-
duct, lay stumbling-blocks in the way of others,
and hinder the progress of the reformation in the
world.

It was a complaint against some who were called
the Lord's people, that they brought polluted bread
to his altar, and said, the table of the Lord was con-
tern; tible.

In real, silent worship the soul feeds on that
which is Divine ; but we cannot partake of the ta-
ble of the Lord, and that table which is prepared
by the god of this world.

If Christ is our shepherd, and feedeth us, and we
are faithful in following him, our lives will have an
inviting language, and the table of the Lord will
not be polluted.

SAMUEL HOPKINS,
The author of a System of Divinity, -was born
September 17, 1721, in Waterbury, Connecticut.
He was educated at Yale College. While at New

Haven, he took part in the religious excitement
caused by the preaching of Whitefield, Gilbert

Tennent, and Jonathan Edwards. The mission-
ary Brainerd was then in the college, and influ-
enced Hopkins. On leaving Yale, he bent his
way to Edwards, at Northampton, with whom
he continued his studies for some time. He then,
in 1743, was ordained at Sheffield (now Great
Barrington), where he remained for twenty-five
years — being soon joined by Edwards, in his
neighborhood, at Stockbridge. In 1770, lie was
ordained minister of a congregation at Newport,
which he was compelled to leave when the Bri-
tish took possession of the island. In 1780 he
returned, and remained there till his death,
December 20, 1803. "He died calmly," says
Whittier, in a tribute to the memory of the man,
" in the steady faith of one who had long trusted
all things in the hand of God. ' The language of
my heart is,' said he, ' let God be glorified by all
things, and the best interest of His kingdom pro-
moted, whatever becomes of me or my interest.'
To a young friend, who visited him three days
before his death, he said, ' I am feeble, and can-
not say much. I have said all I can say. With
my last words, I tell you, religion is the one
thing needful. And now I am going to die, and
I am glad of it. Many years before, an agreement
had been made between Dr. Hopkins and his old
and tried friend, Dr. Hart, of Connecticut, that
when either was called home, the survivor should
preach the funeral sermon of the deceased. The
venerable Dr. Hart accordingly came, true to his
promise, preaching at the funeral from the words
of Elisha, ' My father, my father ; the chariots of
Israel, and the horsemen thereof.' In the burial-
ground adjoining his meeting-house, lies all that
was mortal of Samuel Hopkins.'"*

Dr. Channing, though widely differing from
Hopkins in theology, has celebrated the moral
grandeur of the man. Their points of sympathy
were a common ardor of independence, shown
by Hopkins in his modification of Calvinism and
theory of benevolence. " His system," says
Channing, "however fearful, was yet built on a
generous foundation. (He maintained that all
holiness, all moral excellence, consists in benevo-
lence, or disinterested davntion to the greatest
good.N He taught that sin was introduceTTTnto
the creation, and is to be everlastingly punished,
because evil is necessary to the highest good.
True virtue, as he taught, was an entire surrender
of personal interest to the benevolent purposes of
God. Self-love he spared in none of its move-
ments. The system of Dr. Hopkins was an effort
of reason to reconcile Calvinism with its essential
truths.''t Allen, who has pointed out his modi-
fications of the Calvinistic theology, with less
sympathy for his free spirit of inquiry, pro-
nounces him " a very humble, pious, and benevo-
lent man. Humility pervaded his whole conduct.
It preserved him from that overbearing zeal,
which is the offspring of self-confidence and
pride.''!

Hopkins early took part in the abolition of the
slave trade, announcing his views on the subject
to his congregation at Newport, who were inte-
rested in the traffic, and giving to the cause, not

* Whittier's Old Portraits and Modern Sketches, p. 1G1.
t Discourse at Newport, 1S36. Works, iv. M2.
% Dr. Allen's Biog. Diet., Ait. Ilopkias.

WILLIAM LIVINGSTON.

151

merely his arguments, but a liberal contribution
from bis limited resources. His Dialogue Con-
cerning the Slavery of the Africans; showing it
to be the Duty and Interest of the American
States to Emancipate all their Slaves, was pub-
lished in 1776, with a dedication to the Conti-
nental Congress.

In literary industry he was of the school of
Edwards, having been engaged at times eighteen
hours a day in his studies. His publications are
three sermons — Sin through Dkine Interposition
an Advantage to the Universe, and yet this no
Excuse for Sin or Encouragement to it, 1759 ;
An Inquiry concerning the Promises of the Gos-
pel, whether any of them are made to the Exer-
cises and Doings of Persons in an Unregenerate
State, containing remarks on two sermons by
Dr. Mayhew, 1765 ; on the Divinity of Christ,
1768, and several other discourses, embracing
points of his peculiar views, which he set forth
systematically in the System of Doctrines, con-
tained in Divine Revelation, in 1793. He wrote
also the Life of Susannah Anthony, 1796, and
of Mrs. Osborn, 1798, and left sketches of his
life, written by himself, and several theological
tracts, published by Dr. West, of Stockbridge, in
1805.

SAMSON OCCOM.

Samson Occom, a Mohegan Indian, was born at
Mohegan, on the Thames river, Connecticut,
about the year 17"23. He wandered through the
vicinity with his parents, who lived after the
vagrant manner of their tribe, until during a
visit to his neighborhood by several clergymen of
the adjoining settlements, he became subject to
religious impressions, and was induced to devote
bis future career to the spiritual education of his
people. He was at the age of nineteen an inmate
of Mr. Wheelock's school at Lebanon, for the edu-
cation of Indians, an institution which led to the
foundation of Dartmouth College, where he re-
mained four years. In 1748, be taught a school
for a short time in New London, and then re-
moving to Long Island, again taught a school, and
preached among the Montauk Indians, residing at
East, Hampton, where he eked out a living by
hunting and fishing, binding books, making
wooden spoons, stocking gnns, and -working as a
cooper. He was regularly ordained, Aug. 29,
1759. In 1766 he was sent by Wheelock with
Mr. Whittaker, the minister of Norwich, to Eng-
land, in behalf of the Indian Charity School, en-
dowed by Moor. From February 16, 1766, to
July 22, 1767, he preached in various parts of the
country, from three to four hundred sermons, to
crowded audiences, and received much attention.
On his return he remained for some time at
Mohegan, and in 1786 removed with a number
of Indians of that neighborhood to Brotherton,
near Utica, New York, where a tract of land had
been granted by the Oneidas. He afterwards
resided among the Stockbridge Indians, who had
been previously instructed in Christianity by
Edwards, and received a tract near the lands of
the Mohegans, where he died in July, 1792. His
funeral was attended by over six hundred Indians.
Occom published a sermon on the execution
of Moses Paul, at New Haven, Sept. 2, 1772, and

wrote an account of the manners and customs of
the Montauk Indians, which has been pubhshed

y^f O^C

0/>Wc/2r^ 0/-C^CC^7^j

5-

in the Collections of the Massachusetts Historic:!
Society.* " His discourses," says Dr. Dwight,
" though not proofs of superior talents, were
decent, and his utterance in some degree elo-
quent." He now and then succumbed to strong
drink, but maintained in other respects a good
character.

WILLIAM LIVINGSTON.

The Livingston family was founded in America
by Robert Livingston, the son of a clergyman of
Teviot, in Roxburghshire, Scotland. He emi-
grated about the year 1672, and appears to have
soon after filled the office of Secretary to the Com-
missioners of Albany and parts adjacent. Ho
purchased an extensive tract of land from the
Indians, which was incorporated into the Manor

£/' J^ c^lA^

of Livingston, by patent dated July 22, 1686. He
took an active part in colonial affairs, and died
about 1726. His son Philip succeeded to the
estate and married Catherine, daughter of Peter
Van Brugh of Albany, in which city their fifth
child, William, was born in November, 1723. A
year of his boyhood was passed with a missionary
among the Mohock Indians, during which he ac-
quired a knowledge of the language and manners
of the tribe which was of much service to him
subsequently. In 1737 he entered Yale College,
and was graduated at the head of his class in 1741.
He studied law in the City of New York with Mr.
James Alexander. Two essays, which he pub-
lished under the signature Tyro Philolegis, in

* Wheelock's Brief Narrative of the Indian Charity School
A letter from the Rev. John Devotion, of Saybrook, to Rev.
Dr. Styles, in closing Mr. Occom's account of the Montauk
Indians. A.D. 1701. Mass. Hist. Soc. Coll., First Series, x.
106.

152

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

Parker's New York Weekly Post Boy, August
19, 1745, probably his first published composi-
tions, on the mode of studying law, which then
and now prevails, offended his instructor, and led
to his withdrawal to the office of Mr. William
Smith, with whom he completed his course.
While a student he married Susannah, daughter
of Philip French. In 1747 he issued his Poem
entitled Philosophic Solitude. In 1752, in pur-
suance of an act of the legislature, he published,
with William Smith, Jr., the first digest of the
Colony Laws ; and in the same year commenced
a weekly political and miscellaneous journal of
four pages folio, containing essays and corres-
pondence on the model of the Spectator, The Inde-
pendent Reflector. It was conducted with spirit,
and made astir, being on one occasion denounced
from the pulpit. It entered warmly into the dis-
cussion relative to the religious formation of the
Board of Trustees of King's, afterwards Columbia
College, seven of whom were, by the act of No-
vember, 1751, vesting the funds raised by lotte-
ries for the future institution, to be of the Epis-
copal, two of the Dutch, and one (Livingston
himself) of the Presbyterian denominations. The
publication closed in consequence of the outcry
made against it, with the fifty-second number.
In 1754 he published several of a series of
communications entitled The Watch Tower, in
Hugh Gaine's Mercury, on the still agitated
topic of King's College. In 1757 he issued a work,
first published in London, entitled, A Review of
the Military Operations in North America, from
the commencement of French hostilities on the
frontiers of Virginia in 1753, to the surrender of
Oswego on the I'ith April, 1756, in a Letter to a
Nobleman. It was written in defence of Go-
vernor Shirley. In the same year he published a
funeral eulogium on the Rev. Aaron Burr, Pre-
sident of the College of New Jersey. In 1758,
Livingston was elected from his brother's manor
a member of the Assembly, as a representative of
the opposition to the De Lancey or church party,
which the King's College controversy had con-
tributed to form. In 1765 he published a series
of Essays entitled The Sentinel, in Holt's New
York Weekly Post Boy. One of the most striking
of these is entitled, A New Sermon to an Old
Text. Touch not mine anointed; in which his
design is to show that the " anointed" are not the
monarchs but the people. These extended to
twenty-eight numbers. His next publication was
a pamphlet on the proposed American Episcopate,
in answer to some strictures on the colonies by
the Bishop of Llandaff. He also wrote some of
the articles on the same subject which appeared
under the title of The American. Whig, in the
New York Gazette. This subject was one fiercely
contested in New York and Philadelphia, as well
as New England. The opposition to the measure
was based on political jealousy of a union of
church and state, which it was feared would follow
the introduction of bishops, more than on secta-
rian grounds, a fact proved by the unopposed
establishment of the American Episcopate after
the revolution. In 1770, Mr. Livingston pub-
lished A Soliloquy, a pamphlet reflecting se-
verely on Governor Colden. In 1772 he retired
to a country-seat, to which he gave the genial
name of Liberty Hall, at Elizabethtown, New Jer-

Liberty Hall. '

sey. The progress of the Revolution did not, how-
ever, permit the fulfilment of his long cherished de-
sire for rural retirement. In 1 774 he was elected a
delegate to the continental congress. He was re-
elected the following year, but recalled on the 5th
of June to take command as brigadier-general of
the militia of his native state, at Elizabethtown
Point. In 1776 he was elected governor of the
state. During his administration he published
several essays under the signature of Hortensius,
in the New Jersey Gazette, a paper established to
oppose Rivington's Royai Gazette, which was
especially virulent against the " Don Quixote of
the Jerseys," as it unceremoniously styles the
Governor. He also wrote under the same signa-
ture, in 1779, in the United States Magazine, pub-
lished in Philadelphia, but soon after ascertaining
that several members of the Legislature had ex-
pressed " their dissatisfaction, that the chief
magistrate of the state should contribute to the
periodicals, he discontinued his communications
altogether."

Governor Livingston's correspondence shows the
high estimation in which his services to the nation
throughout the war were appreciated by Wash-
ington and his fellow patriots, and the repeated
attempts made by the enemy to surround his house
and capture his person, bear a like honorable
testimony to his efficiency. He supported not
only the military, but what was perhaps more
rare, the financial measures of Congress, declining,
on one occasion, to appoint an individual to the
office of postmaster on the ground that he had
refused to take continental money. In 1785 he
was elected Minister to the Court of Holland, but
declined the appointment. In the next year he
resumed his contributions to the press under
the title of The Primitive Whig, in Collins's
New Jersey Gazette. In 1787 he exerted him-
self in obtaining materials for Morse's Geo-
graphy, and in correcting the sheets of the work,
which appeared at Elizabethtown, 1789, with
a dedication to the governor. In 1787 lie was
also appointed a delegate to the Federal Con-
vention. He was an active member, though not
a prominent debater, of that body. In June, 1790,
he was attacked by a dropsy, which put an end
to his life, while still governor of the state, on
Sunday, July 25, 1790.

WILLIAM LIVINGSTON.

153

In his private, Livingston maintained the high
tone of his puhlic life. His intercourse with his
numerous family, and with those about him, was
kindly and simple. He retained his love of rural
pursuits throughout his official career, and in the
words of Brissot, who mentions him in his travels
in 1788, was "at once a writer, a governor, and
a ploughman."

In person Governor Livingston was tall, and so
thin as to have been called by "some female
wit," the "whipping post." A Memoir by
Theodore Sedgwick,* was published in 1833. It
contains numerous extracts from his correspond-
ence, and is admirably executed.

THE RETREAT.
FROM THE POEM, PHILOSOPHIC SOLITt/DE.

Let ardent heroes seek renown in arms,

Pant after fame, and rush to war's alarms;

To shining palaces let fools resort,

And dunces cringe, to be esteem'd at court ;

Mine be the pleasure of a rural life,

From noise remote, and ignorant of strife ;

Far from the painted belle, and white-glov'd beau,

The lawless masquerade, and midnight show :

From ladies, lap-dugi, courtiers, garters, stars,

Fops, fiddlers, tyrants, emperors, and czars.

Full in the centre of some shady grove,
By nature form'd for solitude and love:
On banks array'd with ever-blooming flowers,
Near beauteous landscapes, or by roseate bowers,
My neat, but simple mansion I would raise,
Unlike the sumptuous domes of modern days ;
Devoid of pomp, with rural plainness form'd,
With savage game, and glossy shells adorn'd.

No costly furniture should grace my hall ;
But curling vines ascend against the wall,
Whose pliant branches should luxuriant twine,
While purple clusters swell'd with future wine:
To slake my thirst a liquid lapse distil
From craggy rocks, and spread a limpid rill.

Along my mansion, spiry firs should grow,
And gloomy yews extend the shady row:
The cedars flourish, and the poplars rise,
Sublimely tall, and shoot into the skies:
Among the leaves, refreshing zephyrs play,
And crowding trees exclude the noon-tide ray;
Whereon the birds their downy nests should form,
Securely shelter'd from the battering storm ;
And to melodious notes their choir apply,
Soon as Aurora blush'd along the sky:
While all around th' enchanting music rings,
And ev'ry vocal grove responsive sings.

Me to sequester'd scenes ye muses guide,
Where nature wantons in her virgin pride ;
To mossy banks, edg'd round with op'ning flowers,
Elysian fields and amaranthine bowers,
To ambrosial founts, and sleep-inspiring rills,
To herbag'd vales, gay lawns, and sunny hills.

Welcome, ye shades! all hail, ye vernal blooms!
Ve bow'ry thickets, and prophetic glooms !
Ye forests, hail ! ye solitary woods!
Love-whispering groves, and silver-streaming floods :

* A Memoir of the Life of William Livingston, Member of
Congress in 1774, 1775, and 1776: Delegate to the Federal Con-
vention in 1787, and Governor of the State of New Jersey from
1776 to 1790, with extracts from his correspondence, and no-
tices of various members of his family. By Theodore Sedgwick,
Jun. New York. 1S33.

Ye meads, that aromatic sweets exhale!
Ye birds, and all ye sylvan beauties, hail !
Oh how I long with you to spend rny days,
Invoke the muse, and try the rural lays !

No trumpets there with martial clangor sound,
No prostrate heroes strew the crimson ground ;
No groves of lances glitter in the air,
Nor thund'ring drums provoke the sanguine war :
But white-rob'd Peace, and universal Love
Smile in the field, and brighten ev'ry grove:
There all the beauties of the circling year,
In native ornamental pride appear.
Gay, rosy-bosom'd Spring, and April show'rs,
Wake, from the womb of earth, the rising flow'rs;
In deeper verdure. Summer clothes the plain,
And Autumn bends beneath the golden grain ;
The trees weep amber; and the whispering gales
Breeze o'er the lawn, or murmur through the vales:
The flow'ry tribes in gay confusion bloom,
Profuse with sweets, and fragrant with perfume ;
On blossoms blossoms, fruits on fruits arise,
And varied prospects glad the wand'rlng eyes.
In these fair seats, I'd pass the joyous day,
Where meadows flourish, and where fields look gay ;
From bliss to bliss witli endless pleasure rove,
Seek crystal streams, or haunt the vernal grove,
AVoods, fountains, lakes, the fertile fields, or shades,
Aerial mountains, or subjacent glades.
There from the polish'd fetters of the great,
Triumphal piles, and gilded rooms of state —
Prime ministers, and sycophantic knaves,
Illustrious villains, and illustrious slaves,
From all the vain formality of fools,
And odious talk of arbitrary rules:
The ruffling cares, which the vex'd soul annoy,
The wealth the rich possess, but not enjoy,
The visionary bliss the world can lend,
Th' insidious foe, and false, designing friend,
The seven-fold fury of Xautippe's soul.

And S — 's rage, that burns without eontroul ;

I'd live retired, contented, and serene,
Forgot, unknown, unenvied, and unseen.

FAVORITE BOOKS.

But to improve the intellectual mind,
Reading should be to contemplation joiu'd.
First I'd collect from the Parnassian spring,
What muses dictate, and what poets sing. —
Virgil, as prince, shou'd wear the laurel'd crown,
And other bards pay homage to his throne ;
The blood of heroes now etfus'd so long,
Will run forever purple thro' his song,
See! how he mounts toward the blest abodes,
On planets rides, and talks with demigods !
How do our ravish'd spirits melt away,
When in his song Sicilian shepherds play!
But what a splendor strikes the dazzled eye,
When Dido shines in awful majesty!
Embroidered purple clad the Tynan queen,
Her motion graceful, and august her mien ;
A golden zone her royal limbs embrae'd,
A golden quiver rattled by her waist.
See her proud steed majestically prance,
Contemn the trumpet, and deride the launce I
In crimson trappings, glorious to behold,
Confus'dly gay with interwoven gold !
He champs the bit, and throws the foam around,
Impatient paws, and tears the solid ground.
How stern ^Eneas thunders thro' the field !
With tow'ring helmet, and refulgent shield!
Coursers o'erturn'd, and mighty warriors slain,
Deform'd with gore, lie welt'ring on the plain,
Struck through with wounds, ill-fated chieftains lie,
Frown e'en in death, and threaten as they die.

154

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Thro' the thick squadrons see the hero bound !
(His helmet flashes, and his arms resound !)
All grim with rage, he frowns o'er Turnus' head,
(Re-kindled ire ! for blooming Pnllas dead)
Then in his bosom plung'd the shining blade —
The soul indignant sought the Stygian shade!

The far-fam'd bards that grae'd Britannia's isle,
Should next compose the venerable pile,
Great Milton first, for tow'ring thought renown'd,
Parent of song, and fam'd the world around!
His glowing breast divine Urania fir'd,
Or God himself th' immortal bard inspir'd.
Borne on triumphant wings he takes his flight,
Explores all heaven, and treads the realms of light;
In martini pomp he clothes th' angelic train,
"While warring myriads shake the etherial plain.
First Michael stalks, high tow'ring o'er the rest,
With heav'nly plumage nodding on his crest:
Impenetrable arms his limbs infold,
Eternal adamant, and burning gold !
Sparkling in fiery mail, with dire delight,
Rebellious Satan animates the fight:
Armipotent they sink in rolling smoke,
All heav'n resounding, to its centre shook.
To crush his foes, and quell the dire alarms,
Messiah sparkled in refulgent arms:
In radiant panoply divinely bright,
His limbs incas'd, he flash'd devouring light:
On burning wheels, o'er heav'n's crystalline road
Thunder'd the chariot of the filial God ;
The burning wheels on golden axles turn'd,
With flamii-g gems the golden axles butu'd.
Lo ! the apostate host, with terror struck,
Roll back by millions! Th' empyrean shook !
Sceptres, and orbed shields, and crowns of gold,
Cherubs and seraphs in confusion roll'd ;
Till from his hand the triple thunder hurl'd,
Compell'd them, head-long, to th' infernal world.

Then tuneful. Pope, whom all the nine inspire,
With sapphic sweetness, and pindaric fire,
Father of verse! melodious and divine!
Next peerless Milton should distinguished shine.
Smooth flow his numbers, when he paints the grove,
Th' enraptur'd virgins listening into love.
But when the night, and hoarse-resounding storm
Rush on the deep, and Neptune's face deform,
Rough runs the verse, the son'rous numbers roar,
Like the hoarse surge that thunders on the shore
But when he sings th' exhilarated swains,
Th' embow'ring groves, and Windsor's blissful plains,
Our eyes are ravish'd with the sylvan scene,
Embroider'd fields, and groves in living green:
His lays the verdure of the meads prolong,
And wither' d forests blossom in his song.
Thames' silver streams his flowing verse admire,
And cease to murmur while he tunes his lyre.

Next should appear great Dryden's lofty muse,
For who would Dryden's polish'd verse refuse?
His lips were moisten'd in Parnassus' spring,
And Phcebus taught his laureat son to sing.
How long did Virgil untranslated moan,
His beauties fading, and his flights unknown ;
Till Dryden rose, and, in exalted strain,
Re-sang the fortune of the god-like man !
Again the Trojan prince, with dire delight.
Dreadful in arms, demands the ling'ring fight:
Again Camilla glows with martial fire,
Drives armies back, and makes all Troy retire.
With more than native lustre, Virgil shines,
And gains sublimer heights in Dryden's lines.

The gentle Watts, who strings his silver lyre
To sacred odes, and heav'n's all-ruling Sire ;

Who scorns th' applause of the licentious stage
And mounts you sparkling worlds with hallow'd

rage,
Compels my thoughts to wing th' heav'nly road.
And wafts my soul, exulting, to my God:
No fabled nine, harmonious bard! inspire
Thy raptur'd breast with such seraphic fire;
But prompting angels warm thy boundless rage,
Direct thy thoughts, and animate thy page.
Blest man ! for spotless sanctity rever'd,
Lov'd by the good, and by the guilty fear'd;
Blest man ! from gaj-, delusive scenes remov'd,
Thy Maker loving, by thy Maker lov'd,
To God thou tun'st thy consecrated lays,
Nor meanly blush to sing Jehovah's praise.
Oh! did, like thee, each laurel'd bard delight
To paint Religion in her native light,
Not then with plays the lab'ring press would groan,
Nor Vice defy the pulpit and the throne ;
No impious rhymers charm a vicious age,
Nor prostrate Virtue groan beneath their rage;
But themes divine in lofty numbers rise,
Fill the wide earth, and echo thro' the skies.

These for delight. For profit I would read
The labour'd volumes of the learned dead.
Sagacious Locke, by Providence design'd,
To exalt, instruct, and rectify the mind.
The unconquerable sage* whom virtue fir'd,
And from the tyrant's lawless rage retir'd,
When victor Cffisar freed unhappy Rome
From Pompey's chains, to substitute his own.
Longinus, Livy, fam'd Thueydides,
Quintilian, Plato, and Demosthenes,
Persuasive Tully, and Cordoba's sfige,!
Who fell by Nero's unrelenting rage;
Him| whom ungrateful Athens doom'd to bleed,
Despis'd when living, and deplor'd when dead.
Raleigh I'd read with ever fresh delight,
While ages past rise present to m}* sight :
All man unblest ! he foieign realms explor'd,
Then fell a victim to his country's sword!
Nor should great Derham pass neglected by,
Observant sage! to whose deep-piercing eye,
Nature's stupendous works expanded lie.

j Nor he, Britannia, thy unmatch'd renown 1
(Adjudg'd to wear the philosophic crown)

I Who on the solar orb uplifted rode,
And scann'd the unfathomable works of God !
Who bound the silver planets to their spheres,
And trae'd the elliptic curve of blazing stars!
Immortal Newton ; whose illustrious name
Will shine on records of eternal fame.

A WIFE.

By love directed, I would choose a wife,
To improve my bliss, and ease the load of life.
Hail, wedlock! hail, inviolable tye!
Perpetual fountain -of domestic joy !
Love, friendship, honour, truth, and pure delight
Harmonious mingle in the nuptial rite.
In Eden, first the holy state began,
When perfect innocence distil. guish'd man ;
The human pair, the Almighty pontiff led,
Gay as the morning, to the bridal bed;
A dread solemnity the espousals grae'd,
Angels the witnesses and God the priest 1
All earth exulted on the nuptial hour,
And voluntary roses deck'd the bow'r ;
The joyous birds on every blossom'd spray,
Sung hymeneans to the important day,
While Philomela swell'd the spousal song,
And Paradise with gratulatiou rung.

* Cato.

t Seneca.

$ Socrates.

JAMES OTIS.

155

Relate, inspiring muse!

re shall I find
A blooming virgin with an angel mind?
UnbleniishM a? the white-rob'd virgin quire
That fed, O Rome! thy consecrated fire?
By reason aw'd, ambitious to be good,
Averse to vice, and zealous for her God?
Relate, in what blest region can I find
Such bright perfections in a female mind?
What phoenix-woman breathes the vital air
So greatly good, and so divinely fair?
Sure not the gay and fashionable train,
Licentious, proud, immoral, and profane;
Who spend their golden hours in antic dress,
Malicious whispers, and inglorious ease.

Lo ! round the board a shining train appears
In rosy beauty, and m prime of years!
This hates a flounce, and this a flounce approves,
This shows the trophies of her former loves;
Polly avers, that Sylvia drest in green,
When last at church the gaudy nymph was seen;
Chloe condemns her optics; and will lay
'Twas azure sattin, interstreak'd with grey;
Lucy, invested with judicial power,
Awards 'twas neither, — and the strife is o'er.
Then parrots, lap dogs, monkeys, squirrels, beaux,
Fans, ribands, tuckers, patches, furbelocs,
In quick succession, thro' their fancies run,
And dance incessant, on the flippant tongue.
And when, fatigu'd with ev'ry other sport.
The belles prepare to grace the sacred court,
They marshal all their forces in array,
To kill with glances, and destroy in play.
Two skilful maids with reverential fear,
In wanton wreaths collect their silken hair;
Two paint their cheeks, and round their temples

pour
The fragrant unguent, and the ambrosial shower;
One pulls the shape-creating stays; and one
Encircles round her waist the golden zone;
Not with more toil to improve immortal charms,
Strove Juno, Venus, and the queen of arms.
When Priam's son adjudg'd the golden prize,
To the resistless beauty of the skies.
At length, equip'd in Love's enticing arms,
With all that glitters, and with all that charms,
The ideal goddesses to church repair,
Peep thro' the fan, and mutter o'er a pray'r,
Or listen to the organ's pompous sound,
Or eye the gilded images around;
Or, deeply studied in coquettish rules,
Aim wily glances at unthinking fools;
Or show the lily hand with graceful air,
Or wound the fopling with a lock of hair:
And when the hated discipline is o'er.
And misses tortur'd with repent, no more,
They mount the pictur'd coach ; and, to the play,
The celebrated idols hie away.

Not so the lass that should my joys improve,
With solid friendship, and connubial love:
A native bloom, with intermingled white,
Should set her features in a pleasing light ;
Like Helen flushing with unrival'd charms,
When raptur'd Paris darted in her arms.
But what, alas! avails a ruby cheek,
A downy bosom, or a snowy7 neck 1
Charms ill supply the want of innocence,
Nor beauty forms intrinsic excellence:
But in her breast let moral beauties shine,
Supernal grace and purity divine:
Sublime her reason, and her native wit
Unstrain'd with pedantry, and low conceit ;
Her fancy lively, and her judgment free
From female prejudice and bigotry :
Averse to idol pomp, and outward show,

The flatt'ring coxcomb, and fantastic beau.

The fop's impertinence she should despise,

Tho' sorely wounded by her radiant eyes ;

But pay due rev'rence to the exalted mind,

By learning polish'd,. and by wit refin'd,

Who all her virtues, without guile, commends,

And all her faults as freely reprehends.

Soft Hymen's rites her passion should approve,

And in her bosom glow the flames of love :

To me her soul, by sacred friendship, turn,

And I, for her, with equal friendship burn :

In ev'ry stage of life afford relief,

Partake my joys, and sympathize my grief;

Unshaken, walk in Virtue's peaceful road,

Nor bribe her Reason to pursue the mode ;

Mild as the saint whose errors are forgiv'n,

Calm as a vestal, and compos'd as heaven.

This be the partner, this the lovely wife,

That should embellish and prolong my life,

A nymph! who might a second fall inspire,

And fill a glowing cherub with desire!

With her I'd spend the pleasurable day,

While fleeting minutes gayly daue'd away:

With her I'd walk, delighted, o'er the green,

Thro' ev'ry blooming mead, and rural scene ;

Or sit in open fields damask'd with flow'rs,

Or where cool shades imbrown the noon-tide bow'rs.

Imparadis'd within 1113' eager arms,

I'd reign the happy monarch of her charms ;

Oft on her panting bosom would I lay,

And in dissolving raptures melt away;

Then lull'd, by nightingales, to balmy rest,

My blooming fair should slumber at my breast.

CONCLUSION.

And when decrepit! age (frail mortals' doom)
Should bend my wither' d body to the tomb,
No warbling syrens should retard my flight
To heavenly mansions of unclouded light.
Tho' Death, with his imperial horrors crowu'd,
Terrific grinn'd, and formidably frown'd,
Offences pardon'd and remitted sin,
Should form a calm serenity within :
Blessing my natal and my mortal hour,
(My soul committed to the eternal pow'r)
Inexorable Death should smile, for I
Who knew to live, would never fear to die.

JAMES OTIS,
The first writer of the Revolution, was born in
Barnstable, Feb. 5, 1724. He was prepared for
Harvard College by the Rev. Jonathan Russell,
and graduated in 1743. Eighteen months after
he commenced the study of law in the office of
Jeremiah Gridley, and was admitted in 1748, at
Plymouth, where he resided. Two years after he
removed to Boston. His practice soon became
extensive. In 1755, he married Miss Ruth Cun-
ningham, the daughter of a merchant of Boston.
In 1700, he was engaged in the famous case of
the Writs of Assistance — a new regulation intro-
duced by the English government, by which the
courts were called upon to protect the officers
of the customs in forcibly entering and searching
the premises of merchants in quest of dutiable
goods. Pending the application to the Superior
Court for these writs, Sewell, the chief justice,
died, and Lt. Gov. Hutchinson was appointed his
successor. The elder Otis condemned this multi-
plication of offices in the hands of one person, and
this opposition and the future proceedings of
himself and son have been charged against them
as instigated by revenge, he having expected tie

156

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

office himself. The charge is branded as an
" execrable he" by John Adams. Otis defended
the merchants in this case, and "with success.
" American Independence was then and there
barn."* His speech was widely circulated, and
its author was elected to the State Legislature in
May, 1761. In 1762, he published a pamphlet,
entitled A Vindication of the Conduct of the
House of Representatives. It was a defence of
an address to the governor in answer to his
message announcing an addition to the armament
of. the Massachusetts sloop (a small matter in
itself, but involving the principle of the expendi-
ture of the public money without the action of
the legislature). This address, drawn up by Otis,
contained the following passage : " It would be of
little consequence to the people whether they
were subject to George or Louis, the king of
Great Britain or the French king, if both were
arbitrary, as both would be, if both could levy
taxes without Parliament." A member cried out
" treason" when it was read, but the address
was passed by a large majority. " How many
volumes," says John Adams, "are concentrated
in this little fugitive pamphlet! Look over the
Declarations of Rights and Wrongs, issued by
Congress in 1774. Look into the Declaration of
Independence in 1776. Look into the writings
of Dr. Price and Dr. Priestley. Look into all the
French constitutions of government, and, to cap
the climax, look into Mr. Thomas Paine's Com-
mon Sense, Crisis, and Eights of Man ; what
can you find that is not to be found in solid sub-
stance in this Vindication of the House of Repre-
sentatives ?"

ji^r^i/ e^/

In 1764, Otis's Rights of the British Colonies
Asserted and Proved, a pamphlet of 120 pages
8vo., appeared. Its argument is given with
admirable concision in the summary near its
close.

The 6um of my argument is, that civil govern-
ment is of God, that the administrators of it were

* John Adams.

originally the whole people ; that they might have
devolved it on whom they pleased : that this devo-
lution is fiduciary, for the good of the whole : that
by the British constitution, this devolution is on the
king, lords, and commons, the supreme, sacred, and
uncontrollable legislative power, not only in the
realm, but through the dominions: that by the
abdication, the original compact was broken to
pieces ; that by the revolution it was renewed, and
more firmly established, and the rights and liberties
of the subject in all parts of the dominions more
fully explained and confirmed: that inconsequence
of this establishment and the acts of succession and
union, his Majesty George III. is rightful king and
sovereign, and with his parliament, the supreme
legislative of Great Britain, France, and Ireland,
and the dominions thereunto belonging : that this
constitution is the most free one, and by far the
best now existing on earth : that by this constitu-
tion, every man in the dominions is a free man: that
no part of his Majesty's dominions can be taxed
without their consent : that every part has a right
to be represented in the supreme or some subordi-
nate legislature, that the refusal of this would seem
to be a contradiction in practice to the theory of the
constitution : that the colonies are subordinate
dominions, and are now in such a state, as to make
it best for the good of the whole that they should
not only be continued in the enjoyment of subordi-
nate legislation, but be also represented in some pro-
portion to their number and estates in the grand
legislation of the nation: that this would firmly
unite all parts of the British empire, in the greatest
peace and prosperity ; and render it invulnerable
and perpetual.

Otis was elected to the first or Stamp Act Con-
gress, but after the publication of his last work
took a less prominent part in public debate.

Sept. 4, 1769, he published an advertisement
in the Boston Gazette, denouncing the commis-
sioners of the customs who had sent over to Eng-
land false and libellous charges against him. The
next evening he met Robinson, one of these per-
sons, in a coffee-house. An altercation ensued,
Robinson struck him with a cane, Otis returned
the blow, was attacked by a number of Robin-
son's adherents, and received a severe wound in
the head — which is generally supposed to have,
led to the insanity which soon after made its
appearance, and incapacitated him for future
public or professional exertion. He brought an
action against Robinson, and recovered £2000
damages, which he refused to accept. He retired
from the legislature in 1770, and was re-elected
in 1771, but did not take any important part in
the debates. He withdrew the same year, and
passed the remainder of his life at Barnstable and
Andover, where he was struck by lightning, May
23, 1783, and died instantaneously. His life has
been written by William Tudor.*

ADVANTAGES OF REPRESENTATION.

A representation in Parliament from the several
colonies, since they are become so large and nume-
rous, as to he called on not only to maintain
provincial government, civil and military, among
themselves, for this they have cheerfully done, but
to contribute towards the support of a national
standing army, by reason of the heavy national
debt, when they themselves owe a large one, con-

* Life of James Otis, of Massachusetts. Boston, 1823.

JAMES BOWDOIN.

157

traeted in the common cause, cannot be thought an
unreasonable thing, nor if asked, could it be called
an immodest request. Qm sentit commodum sentire
debet et onus, has been thought a maxim of equity.
But that a man should bear a burthen for other

fieople, as well as himself, without a return, never
ong found a place in any law-book or decrees, but
those of the most despotic princes. Besides the
equity of an American representation in parliament,
a thousand advantages would result from it. It
would be the most effectual means of giving those
of both countries a thorough knowledge of each
other's interests, as well as that of the whole, which
are inseparable.

Were this representation allowed, instead of the
Bcandalous memorials and depositions that have been
sometimes, in daj's of old, privately cooked up in an
inquisitorial manner, by persons of bad minds and
wicked views, and sent from America to the several
boards, persons of the first reputation among their
countrymen might be on the spot, from the several
colonies, truly to represent them. Future ministers
need not, like some of their predecessors, have
recourse for information in American affairs, to
every vagabond stroller, that has run or rid post
through America, from his creditors, or to people of
no kind of credit from the colonies.

JAMES BOWDOIN

Was born in Boston, August 7, 172G. He was
of Huguenot descent ; his grandfather Pierre Bau-
douin having been a refugee from France on the
revocation of the edict of Nantes, who, living for
a short time in Ireland, in 1GS7 was an applicant
to Governor Andros, in New England, for a grant
of land in Maine. His sou, James Bowdoin, be-
came a wealthy merchant of Boston ; and his son
James, of whom we are writing, inherited a hand-
some paternal fortune. He was educated under
Master Lovell at the South Grammar School of
the city, and was a graduate of Harvard of 1745.
At twenty-four years of age he had visited Frank-
lin in Philadelphia, and disclosed a taste for scien-
tific pursuits which induced the philosopher, then
twenty years his senior, to communicate to him
his papers on Electricity. This was the begin-
ning of a correspondence by which the friends
have become united in reputation. A resume of
this scientific connexion is given by the Hon.E.C.
Winthrop, a descendant of Bowdoin, in his ad-
dress on the Life and Services of Bowdoin .*

At the outset of this correspondence, Bowdoin
appears to have availed himself of the invitation to
make observations on Franklin's theories and specu-
lations, with somewhat more of independence of
opinion than might have been expected from the
disparity of their ages. One of his earliest letters
(21st Dec. 1751") suggested such forcible objections
to the hypothesis, that the sea was the grand source
of electricity, that Franklin was led to say in his re-
ply, (24th January, 1752,) — "I grow more doubtful
of my former supposition, ami more ready to allow
weight to that objection, (drawn from the activity
of the electric fluid and the readiness of water to
conduct,) which you have indeed stated with great
strength and clearness." In the following year
Franklin retracted this hypothesis altogether. The
same letter of Bowdoin's contained an elaborate ex-
plication of the cause of the crooked direction of
lightning, which Franklin pronounced, in his reply,

* Wintbrop's Maine Historical Soc. Address, 1849, pp. 10-12.

to be " both ingeniou? and Solid," — adding, " when
we can account as satisfactorily for the electrifica-
tion of clouds, I think that branch of natural philo-
sophy will be nearly complete."

In a subsequent letter.Bowdoin suggested a theory
in regard to the lurninousness of water under certain
circumstances, ascribing it to the presence of minute
phosphorescent animals, of which Franklin said, in
his reply, (13th Dec. 1753.) — "The observations you
made of the sea water emitting more or less light in
different tracts passed through by your boat, is new,
and your mode of accounting for it ingenious. It is,
indeed, very possible, that an extremely small ani-
malcule, too small to be visible even by our best
glasses, may yet give a visible light." This theory
has since been very generally received.

Franklin soon after paid our young philosopher
the more substantial and unequivocal compliment of
sending his letters to London, where they were read
at the Royal Society, and published in a volume with
his own. The Royal Society, at a later day, made
Bowdoin one of their fellows ; and Franklin writing
to Bowdoin from London, Jan. 13, 1772, says: "It
gives me great pleasure that my book afforded any
to my friends. I esteem those letters of yours among
its brightest ornaments, and have the satisfaction to
find that they add greatly to the reputation of
American philosophy."

He bore a leading part in the political agita-
tions of the times, in opposition to the parliamen-
tary and local government tyranny ; and was an
early advocate of the union of the Colonies. He
was a member of the Colonial Council, where his
patriotism rendered him an object of dread to
Governor Bernard and Hutchinson, while he was
specially set aside by the English home govern-
ment, He was elected to the Old Continental
Congress and prevented attendance only by family
illness. His own health was weak, and his life
became a long consumptive disease ; but he was
always vigorous in public affairs. In 1785, he
became Governor of the Commonwealth, in the
discharge of the duties of which he applied all
his energies to the suppression of Shay's Rebel-
lion against law and order. He lived to see his
efforts for union fully established in the formation
of the Federal Constitution ; received Washing-
ton, with whom he had conferred on the perilous
heights of Dorchester, in 1776, at his house in
Boston in 1789 ; and on the 6th of November,
1790, followed, after an interval of a few months,
his old friend Franklin to the grave.

Besides his participation in Franklin's dis-
coveries, he has a claim upon our attention here
as a contributor to the Pietas et G-ratulatio, the
volume of Cambridge poems on the accession of
George III., to which he contributed three articles,*
and the author of a volume of verses published
anonymously in Boston, in 1759. His Para-
phrase of the Economy of Human Life furnishes
at least a pleasing study of the tastes of the man
and the period. He was a fellow of the Corpo-
ration of Harvard College, subscribed liberally to
its funds, and left the institution a handsome
legacy to be applied to the encouragement of
literature in premiums among the students. He
was one of the founders and first Presidents of the
American Academy of Arts and Sciences in Bos-
ton, and published a philosophical discourse on

* Ante, p. 13.

15S

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

%

his inclusion in 17S0. The poem of Bowdoin, to
which we have alluded, is called a Paraphrase
of Dodsley's collection of aphorisms under that
title * but, though it originated in a simple ver-
sion of the Economy, it is rather an amplification
or extension of that little work, with new illus-
trations. It follows the original in its general
classification of personal duties and emotions, and
the relation of the sexes, without taking up each
of the topics. Bowdoin's is good moral sense, in
a good declamatory tone, without much origi-
nality. As an example of its more pleasing de-
scriptions, we may take a passage on the Virtu-
ous Woman, in the section on I>esire and Love.

Now view the maid, the love inspiring maid,

With virtue and with modesty array'd :

Survey her matchless form ; her mind survey ;

And all their beauty in full light display.

Her matchless form, display'd in open light,

Attracts the eye, and charms the ravish'd sight.

Survey'd, and re-survey'd from feet to head,

A thousand nameless beauties round her spread:

See down her neck the charming locks descend ;

And, black as jet, in waving ringlets end :

As down her beauteous neck they careless flow,

The lovely white to great advantage show:

Her comely neck with symmetry and grace,

Rises majestic on its noble base :

And, like a column of superior art,

Does to the eye a fine effect impart :

Her piercing eyes their harmless lightning play :

And dart around a joy-diffusing ray :

Her cheeks, adorn'd with lovely white and red,

May vie with roses in their fiow'ry bed :

Her coral lips, whene'er she speaks, disclose

The finest iv'ry in concentric rows:

Her tempting breasts in whiteness far outgo

The op'ning lily, and the new fal'n snow :

Her tempting breasts the eyes of all command,

And gently rising court the ani'rous hand :

Their beauty and proportion strike the eye,

And art's best skill to equal them defy.

These matchless charms, which now in bloom ap-
pear,
Are far exalted by the dress they wear:
With virtue rob'd, with modesty attir'd,
They're more and more b}r all mankind admii'd
With virtue rob'd, with modesty array'd,
They're in the fairest light to all display'd :
True virtue and true modesty inspire
Witli love sincere, unmix'd with base desire ;
Set off the beauties of her lovely face ;
And give each feature a peculiar grace:
Each feature sheds a joy-inspiring ray ;
And all around are innocently gay:
Each feature speaks the goodness of her mind ;
By pride untainted, gen'rous, frank and kind.
How full of innocence her sprightly eye !
Which with the dove's in innocence may vie :
From falsehood and from guile how free her heart!
How free from cunning and intriguing art !
How sweet her kiss ! than honey far more sweet ;
And like her lips exempt from ail deceit :
Her lips far sweeter odors breathe around,
Than e'er exhal'd from India's od'rous ground ;
More sweet than e'er perfum'd the spicy coast ;
More 6weet than fam'd Arabia can boast.

* A Paraphrase on Part of the Economy of Human Life, in-
scribed to his Excellency Thomas Pownall, Esq.. Governor of
the Province of the Massachusetts Bay. Boston, New England :
Printed and Sold bv Oreen and Eussell, at their Pnnting-
Offlce, in Queen St. 1750.

Than roses far more grateful is her smile;
And more than roses can the sense beguile.

These are her charms — her charms as bright ap-
pear

As yonder stars that deck heav'n's sparkling
sphere ;

And like to her's, which bro't down fabled Jove,

Conquer the breast least capable of love.

The reader may like to compare Bowdoin with
his original Dodsley. We add a few sentences
from the latter's brief parallel chapter.

The madness of desire shall defeat its own pur-
suits; from the blindness of its rage thou shalt
rush upon destruction.

Therefore give not up thy heart to her sweet en-
ticements ; neither suffer thy soul to be enslaved by
her enchanting delusions.

When virtue and modesty enlighten her charms,
the lustre of a beautiful woman is brighter than the
stars of heaven ; and the influence of her power it
is in vain to resist.

The innocence of her eye is like that of the
turtle ; simplicity and truth dwell in her heart.

The kisses of her mouth are sweeter than honey:
the perfumes of Arabia breathe from her lips.

Dodsley's 'sentiments have a strong flavor of
common-place to readers of the present day, but
they were once very popular. James Bowdoin,
the son of the preceding, was a gentleman of
many accomplishments. He was born Sept. 22,
1752, and died Oct. 11, 1811. He gave much
attention to literary pursuits, and on the incorpo-
ration of Bowdoin College, at Brunswick, in
Maine, made it a donation of one thousand acres
of land, and more than eleven hundred pounds.
He was sent by Jefferson as minister to Spain in
1805, and subsequently to France, and remained
abroad till 1808, passing two years in Paris,
where he made a collection of books and minerals
which he subsequently presented to Bowdoin
College. He lived during the summer months on
Naushaun Island, near Martha's Vineyard. He
was interested in the cultivation of sheep, and
translated Daubenton's Advice to Shepherds. He
published anonymously, Opinions respecting the
Commercial Intercourse ietween the United
States and Great Britain. A short time before
his death he gave a valuable grant of land to
Bowdoin College, and by his last will bequeathed
a philosophical apparatus, and a costly collection
of paintings to that institution.

EZRA STILES.

TnE grandfather of Ezra Stiles was brought an
infant to New England, in 1634. The family set-
tled in Windsor, Connecticut, in 1635. The Rev.
Isaac Stiles was his son, and settled, as minister,
at North Haven. He married a daughter of the
Bev. Edward Taylor, of Westfield, Mass., who
died a few days after giving birth to their only
child, Ezra, December 10, 1727. He was prepared
for Yale College by his father, at the early age
of twelve, but his entrance was wisely deferred
until three years later. He was graduated with
distinguished honors in 1746, and remained a
resident at the college, where he was chosen a
tutor, in May, 1749. He was licensed, and
preached his first sermon, in June of the same

EZRA STILES.

159

year, and in the following September received
the Master's degree, being regarded as one of the
ablest scholars the institution had produced. In
1752, finding the exertion of preaching prejudicial
to his health, and influenced to some extent by
religious doubts, by which his mind was then dis-
turbed, he commenced the study of the law, with
a view to a change in his career. In 1754, he
made a tour to Boston, New York, and Philadel-
phia, with great benefit to bis health. In April
of the following year, he accepted an invitation to
preach during the college vacation, at Newport,
B. I., and soon after received a call to retain the
position permanently. After much deliberation,
he determined to abandon the law and accept the
appointment. He had previously, by laborious
study and earnest thought, dispelled the theologi-
cal difficulties which had disturbed his mind, and
was ready to devote himself with earnestness and
zeal to his sacred calling. His clerical duties did
not, however, prevent his attention to the scien-
tific and philological studies in which he also de-
lighted.

In 1757, he married Elizabeth, daughter of
Ool. John Hubbard, of New Haven.

A discourse delivered on the public thanksgiv-
ing for the capture of Montreal, September 8,
1700, shows him to have been among the first to
foresee American Independence. He says : " It is
probable that, in time, there will be formed a
Provincial Confederacy, and a Common Council,
standing on free provincial suffrage : and this may,
in time, terminate in an imperial diet, when the
imperial dominion will subsist, as it ought, in elec-
tion." In July, 1766, he was urged to allow him-
self to be proposed as a candidate for the presi-
dency of Yale College, but declined. The proposal

was renewed by his formal election, in 1777. He
was at this time resident at Portsmouth, having
removed on the British occupation of Newport,
until " it might please Divine Providence to re-
assemble his dear scattered flock." At the urgent
solicitation of his own and the friends of the col-

lege, he accepted the office, and commenced its
duties, June 23, 1778.

In the spring vacation of 1780, the British hav-
ing evacuated Newport, the President paid a visit
to his old congregation. The church had been
desecrated by the enemy, who "had put up a
chimney in the middle of it, and demolished all
the pews and seats below, and in the galleries,
but had left the pulpit standing. My little zealous
flock," says the President, "took down the chim-
ney, and cleansed the meeting house, and then
procured some benches, made for the king's troops'
entertainment and left behind : so that we attend-
ed divine service very conveniently, though with
a pleasure intermixed with tender grief." He
retained his Presidency with high honor to him-
self and usefulness to the institution, until his
death, May 12, 1795.

Dr. Stiles was an indefatigable student through-
out his life. By the aid of a Jewish acquaintance
in Newport, he instructed himself in Hebrew, and
afterwards acquired an acquaintance with the
other oriental languages. He corresponded with
the Jesuits on the geography of California, with
Greek bishops on the physical formation of Pales-
tine and the adjacent countries, and addressed
queries of a scientific and philological nature to
travellers from the interior of Africa, Behring's
Straits, and other remote regions. The late
Chancellor Kent, who was one of Stiles's pupils
i in the college, has paid a handsome tribute to the
! warmth and character of his political principles
and personal virtues: "President Stiles's zeal for
i civil and religious liberty was kindled at the altar
j of the English and New England Puritans, and
it was animating and vivid. A more constant
and devoted friend to the Revolution and inde-
pendence of this country never existed. He had
anticipated it as early as the year 1760, and his
whole soul was enlisted in favor of every measure
which led on gradually to the formation and
establishment of the American Union. The fre-
quent appeals which he was accustomed to make
i to the heads and hearts of his pupils, concerning
the slippery paths of youth, the grave duties of
life, the responsibilities of man, and the perils,
and hopes, and honors, and destiny of our coun-
try, will never be forgotten by those who heard
them ; and especially when he came to touch, as he
often did, with 'a master's hand and prophet's
fire,' on the bright vision of the future prosperity

and splendor of the United States Take

him for all in all, this extraordinary man was
undoubtedly one of the purest and best gifted
men of his age. In addition to his other emi-
nent attainments he was clothed with humility.
with tenderness of heart, with disinterested kind-
ness, and with the most artless simplicity. He
was distinguished for the dignity of his deport-
ment, the politeness of his address, and the
urbanity of his manners. Though he was uncom-
promising in his belief and vindication of the
great fundamental doctrines of the Protestant
faith, he was nevertheless of a most charitable
and catholic temper, resulting equally from the
benevolence of his disposition and the spirit of
the Gospel." *

♦Address delivered at New Haven, before the Phi Beta
Kappa Sueiety, by James Kent, September 18, 1S31.

1G0

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Dr. Channing has also been the eulogist of
Stiles. In his discourse at Newport, he speaks
with animation of this " noble friend of religious
liberty," who "threw a lustre on this island imme-
diately before the Revolution ;" and adds, "to the
influence of this distinguished man in the cir-
cle in which I was brought up, I may owe in part
the indignation which I feel towards every inva-
sion of human rights. In my earliest years I
regarded no human being with equal reverence."*

Stiles was twice married, his second wife being
the widow of William Cheekley, of Providence.
One of his daughters married the Rev. Abiel
Holmes, by whom his life was written and pub-
lished in 1798. There is also a biography by Prof.
Kingsley, of Yale, in the second series of Sparks's
collection.

His chief literary production was his History
of Three of the Judges of King Charles J.\ A
letter written in 1793, by a gentleman of South
Carolina, to the President, suggesting a monument
to the memory of John Dixwell, one of the three
Judges of Charles I. who escaped to and died in
this country, led him to the completion of a work
on these worthies for which he had long been
engaged in collecting materials.]; It appeared in
1795. The kindly pen of Chancellor Kent has
placed ite political merits in a strong light : " Tins
work contains .proof," he says, "that the author's
devotion to civil and religious liberty carried him
forward to some hasty conclusions ; in like man-
ner as his fondness for antiquarian researches
tended to lead his mind to credulous excesses.
He dwells on trifling traditionary details on a very
unimportant inquiry ; but the volume also con-
tains a dissertation on republican polity, and his
vindication of the resistance of the Long Parlia-
ment to King Charles L, and of the judicial trial
and condemnation of that monarch. Here he
rises into a theme of the loftiest import, and dis-
cusses it with his usual boldness, fervor, acuteness,
and copiousness of erudition. He takes occasion
to condemn all hereditary orders in government,
as being incompatible with public virtue and
security ; and he was of opinion that monarchy
and aristocracy, with all their exclusive political
appendages, were going fast into discredit and
disuse, under the influence of more just and
enlightened notions of the natural equality and
liberties of mankind. In these opinions the
President did no more than adopt and declare the
principles of the most illustrious of the English
Puritans under the Stuarts, and of many, at least,
of the English Protestant Dissenters under the
Brunswick line. His fundamental doctrine, that
a nation may bring to trial and punishment delin-
quent kings, is undoubtedly true as an abstract
proposition, though the right is difficult to define
and dangerous in the application. This humble
little volume was dedicated to the patrons of un-
polluted liberty, civil and religious, throughout

* Channing's Works, iv. 341.

t A Historv of Three of tlie Judges of Kins Charles I., Ma-
jor General "Whalley, Major General Goffe, and Colonel Dix-
well: who at the Restoration, 1660, fled to America, and vrete
secreted and concealed in Massachusetts and Connecticut, for
near Thirty years. With au account of Mr. Theophihu* Whale,
of Narragansett, supposed to have been also one of the Judges.
By President Stiles, Hartford. Printed by Elisha Babcoek, 1794.

t "A Poem, commemorative of Goffe, Whalley, and Dixwell,
three of the Judges of Charles I., by Philagathos," was pub-
lished in Boston, during the same year.

the world; and when we consider its subject, its
republicanism, its spirit, its frankness, its piety,

! its style and its tact, we are almost led to believe
that we are perusing the legacy of the last of the
Puritans. He gives us also a conspectus or plan
of an ideal commonwealth, and it is far superior
to the schemes sketched by Harrington, or Mil-
ton, or Locke, or Hume, or to any other plan of
a republic prior to the establishment of our own
American constitutions. It is very much upon
the model of some of the best of them, and
though entire political equality and universal suf-

i frage were the basis of his plan, he was fully
aware of the dangerous propensities to which
they might expose us, and therefore he cheeked
the rapidity of his machine by a Legislature of
two Houses, chosen, the one for three and the
other for six years, and by a single Executive
chosen for seven years, and by .an independent
Judiciary. In addition to all these guards, he
insisted on the necessity of a general diffusion of
light and knowledge, and of the recognition of
Christianity."

Stiles's other works consist principally of
addresses and sermons. One of the latter is an
able plea for the union of various Kew England
denominations. - His election sermon in 1783,
entitled The United States Elevated to Glory and
Honour, is an animated eulogium on the revolu-
tionary contest, and an eloquent and sensible anti-
cipation of its consequences. In his eulogy of
"Washington, his enthusiasm carries him to its
utmost limits : —

Thy fame is of sweeter perfume than Arabian
spices iu the gardens of Persia, A Baron de Steuben
shall waft its fragrance to the monarch of Prussia;
a Marquis de la Fayette shall waft it to a far greater
monarch, and diffuse thy renown throughout Europe :
listening angels shall catch the odour, waft it to
heaven, and perfume the universe.

Stiles's Diary and bound manuscripts preserved
at Yale College, fill some forty -five volumes. Of
these fifteen are occupied with his literary Diary,
embracing the narrative of daily occurrences,
public and private, notices of the books he read,
the sermons he preached and heard, and his doc-
trinal reflections. It includes numerous important
details of the Revolution. A Meteorological
Record occupies five volumes; an Itinerary of.his
tours, notices of Town and Church Records,
Tombstone Inscriptions and such matters, five
more ; while the remainder are filled with letters
addressed to him, and miscellaneous extracts. He
was a good draughtsman, and occasionally sketches
plans of the battles. There is an account, in par-
ticular, of the battle at Charleston, taken down
from the narrative of an eye-witness and par-
ticipant, the Rev. Mr. Martin.

Though the Diary has been freely drawn upon
by Dr. Stiles's biographer, Holmes, and consulted
since for historical purposes, it contains much
unpublished matter worthy to see the light.

We are indebted to Mr. E. C. Herrick, of Yale,
for the following extracts, which exhibit the
activity of the n riter's mind, and the extent of
his pursuits : —

EXTRACTS FROM THE LITERARY IUART OF EZRA STILES. NEW-
PORT, R. I. (TILL 1777).

1770. Mar. 9. 9 Heb. Arab. This day news

EZRA STILES.

161

from Boston, that an Affray had happened there
between the Inhabitants and the Army, wherein the
Soldiery fired and killed three Men and wounded
others : upon which the Bells all rang, and the Town
thrown into most alarming confusion. This day ends
the prediction of Mr. Edwards of Philadelphia.

1769. June 3. rj Fine serene day. Assiduously
employed in observing the Transit of Venus, which
will not happen again in above an hundred years,
at either node ; and at this descending node again,
not in two hundred and forty [36]"years, or before
A.D. 2004.

Oct. 5. 7L Heb. Arab. LenJ Mr. Tutor How,
Origines Ecelesiae Alexandrine, by Eutychius, Pa- i
triar.cn of that church in the Tenth Century; which
I had copied in the Arabic Letter: with the English
Translation which I made from the original Arabic.

This evening visited by a young man, Hamilton,

set. 20, born a mile from Providence, but brought up
in Coventry: can read the Bible, but scarce knows
the nine figures; can't set down any sum in figures.
Yet has a surprizing Talent at Addition and Multi-
plication of large Numbers. I asked him with my
watch in my hand, how many minutes there were
in Ten Million years ? then in an hundred Million
j'ears ? he told them both in less than one minute by
my Watch.

1777. Sept. 19. 9 1 received the following letter
from the Rev. Mr. Whittelsey: [announcing that
he, Dr. Stiles, had been chosen President of Yale
College.] My Election to the Presidency of Yale
College is an unexpected and wonderful ordering of

Divine Providence An hundred and fifty or

180 Young Gentlemen Students, is a bundle of Wild
Fire, not easily controlled and governed, and at best
the Diadem of a President is a Crown of Thorns.

1779. Nov. 1. Mr. Guild, Tutor of Harvard Col-
lege, visited us this day. He has been to Philadel-
phia, and is planning an Academy of Sciences for
Massachusetts. I had much conversation with him
upon tills as well as upon an Acadenry of Sciences I
am meditating for Connecticut.

1780. Dec. 19. Mr. Doolittle tells me there has
been made, at his Powder Mill, in New Haven, eighty
Thousand pounds of Powder since the commence-
ment of this war.

1786. June 29. The spirit for raising silk worms is
great in this town, Northford, Worthington, Mans-
field, Ac.

July 8. The German or Wheat Insects have got
into and destroyed Squire Smith's Harvest of Rye
and Wheat at West Haven, and that of several of
his neighbours ; but are not general there. These
animalcules which fix in the Joynts of Wheat, and
if no Wheat in Rye, have come from the Westward
and got into Litchfield and New Haven Counties.

1787. July 2. The Rev. Manasseh Cutler, of Ips-
witch, visited us. He is a great Botanist, and is
travelling on to Philadelphia to inspect all vegetables
and plants in their state of flowering, with the view
of perfecting his Publication upon Indigenous Ameri-
can Plants, ranged into Classes, Genera and Species,
according to the sexual or Linnfean system.

Aug. 27. ®Heb. Recita.— Finished'the first Psalm.
Judge Ellsworth, a member of the federal conven-
tion, just returned from Philadelphia, visited me,
and tells me the Convention will not rise under three
weeks. He there saw a Steam Engine for rowing
Boats against the stream, invented by Mr. Fitch, of
Windsor, in Connecticut, He was on board the
Boat, and saw the experiment succeed.

1794. Mr. Whitney brought to my house and
6howed us his machine, by him invented, for clean-
ing cotton of its seeds. He showed us the model
which he has finished to lodge at Philadelphia, in

VOL. I. — 11

the Secretary of State's office, when he takes out his

Patent A curious and very ingenious piece

of Mechanism.

1786. Oct. 25. Mr. Tutor Morse desiring to be
absent, while spring, in order to make the Tour of
the States to Georgia, for perfecting a new edition
of his Geography, we elected the Rev. Abiel Holmes
Tutor.

1788. January 7. This Evening I gave permission
to the Freshman Class to wear their Hats in the
College Yard after the ensuing vacation. Formerly
they kept off their Hats the whole Freshman year.
About 1775, they were permitted to wear them after
May vacation. We now permit them after January
vacation.

1794. July 17. * * * This day I was visited by
M. Talleyrand Perigord, Bishop of Autun, &a. . . .
and M. Beaumez, Member for the District of Arras,
.... Both men of Information, Literature, Calm-
ness and Candor : and very inquisitive The

Bishop has written a piece on Education, and origi-
nated the Bill or Act in the National Assembly for
setting up schools all over France for diffusing Edu-
cation and Letters among the Plebeians. I desired
them to estimate the proportion of those who could
not read in France. Mr. Beaumez said of 25 mil-
lions he judged 20 millions could not read. The
Bishop corrected it and said Eighteen Millions. They
were very inquisitive about our mode of diffusing
knowledge. I told them of our parochial schools from
the beginning, and that I had not reason to think there
was a single person of the natives in New Haven
that could not read. * * *

ON KINGS — FROM LIVES OF THE JUDGES.

In like manner we are not to infer the primaeval
meaning of a King, or the chief ruler of a sove-
reignty among the nations, from the meaning to '
which it has long grown up by use, from the ages
of tyranny and usurpation. Kings, Metakim, lead-
ers, rulers were primaeval in all nations and countries
around the terraqueous globe, and must have been
from the spontaneous nature of universal society.
The first seventy-two nations immediately after
Babel had them. But what were the primaeval
kings? Not despots ; rulers by their own will ; but
actors forth of the counsel and will of the people, in
what for the public was by the people confided to
their execution, n&primi inter pares consiliarios, the
first or chief baron in the teutonic policies, of a pre-
sidential, not autocratical authority, the organ of
the supreme council, but of no separate and disjoined
power. Early, indeed, among the oriental nations,
sprung up a few Ninuses, while in general, for ages,
particularly in Europe, they were what they ought
to be. If we recede back into early antiquity, and
descend thence, even late, into the martial ages, we
shall find the reliquice of the original policies, espe-
cially in Hesperia, Gaul, Belgium, and Britain, and
plainly discern the Duces, the Reges, the heads of
nations, by whatever appellation designated, still
the pa/res patrice. The additions powers annexed to
their titles afterwards, caused them to grow up to
ti/ranni, governors of will. Not so in the beginning,
when they were like the sachems of Indian nations.
And perhaps the primaeval may have subsisted and
survived with purity in the Indian sachemdoms,
which, however hereditary, are so in a mode un-
known to the rest of the world, though perfectly
understood by themselves; nor is any man able,
with our present ignorance, to comprehend thegenius
of their polity or laws, which I am persuaded are
wise, beautiful, and excellent; rightly and fairly
understood, however hitherto despised by Europe-
ans and Americans. We think of a sachem as an

162

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

European king in his little tribe, and negoeiate -with
him under mistaken transatlantic ideas. And so are
frequently finding them cyphers to certain purposes
■without the collective council of warriors, who are
all the men of the nation, whose subordination is
settled, and as fixt as that in the feudal system. At
times we see a sachem dictating with the seeming
authority of a despot, and he is obeyed because of
the united sense of the nation — never otherwise.
On their views of society, their policy is perfect
wisdom. So ancient kingship and council monarchy
in Asia and Europe, was like that of Melchisedee,
lenient, wise, and efficacious. This still lives in
Africa, and amongst some of the hordes of Tartars,
as it did in Montezuma and Mango Capae. But
these primi inter pares soon grew up into beasts of
prey ; until, ages ago, government has been con-
signed to the will of mouarchs, and this even with
the consent of the people, deluded by the idea that
a father of his people could not but rule with affec-
tion and wisdom. These in Greece and Sicily were
called Tyranui, to distinguish them from Archons,
Princes, ami other rulers, by council. All govern-
ment was left to will, hoped and expected to have
been a wise will. But the experiment raised such
horror and detestation, and this official title has for
ages become so disgustful and obnoxious, that kings
themselves cannot endure it. Jsever will a king
hereafter assume the name of a tyrant, nor give the
name of Bastile to a national or state prison. The
brazen bull of Phalaris was used once ; has been dis-
used two thousand years; and will never be used
again. So the name of a king now excites horror,
and is become as odious in Europe as that of Tyran-
nus at Athens, Syracuse, and Agrigentum. The
name and title of ting will soon become as disgust-
ful to supreme magistrates, in every polity, as that
of tyrant, to which it is become synonymous and
equipollent. It may take a century or two to ac-
complish this extirpation of title ; but the die is cast,
kingship is at an end ; like a girdled tree in the
forest, it may take a little time to wither and die —
but it is dying — and in dying, die it must. Slaying
the monster was happily begun by Oliver: but the
people spared its life, judiciously given up by hea-
ven to be wliipt, and scourged, and tormented witli
it two or three centuries more, unless it may be now
in its last gasps. jS'ow there must be a supreme and
chief ruler in every society, in every polity : and
wras it not for the complex association of insidious
ideas, ideas of dread and horror connected with the
appellation king, or could it be purged or restored
to the purity of antiquity, it might still be safely
used in a republic. But this cannot be done. It
must therefore be relegated into contemptuous
neglect And a new appellation must be taken up
— very immaterial what it is, so it be defined to be
but primus inter pares consiliarios, stand on fre-
quent election, and hereditation for ever repudiated
and banished. The charm and unintelligible mys-
teries wrapt up in the name of a king being done
away, the way would be open for all nations to a
rational government and policy, on such plain and
obvious general principles, as would be intelligible
to the plainest rustic, to the substantial yeomanry,
or men of landed estates, which ought to be the
body of the population. Every one could under-
stand it as plain as a Locke or a Camden. And
whatever the Filmers* and Acherlysf may say,

* Sir Robert Eilmer, who lived in the first half of the 17th
century, wrote several works in favor of absolute govern-
ment His "Anarchy of a limited and mixed Monarchy,''
in aDSwer to Phil. Hutton's Treatise on Monarchy, LondoD,
1646. is probably the one chiefly referred to by Stiles.

t Roger Acherley wrote and published— The Britannic Con-

the common people are abundantly capable and
susceptible of such a polity. It is greatly wise,
therefore, to reject the very name of a king. Many
of the enlightened civilians of the Long Parliament
and Protectorate saw this. Oliver saw it And
who shall say, this was not the governing reason of
his rejecting it?

SAMUEL SEAEOEY.
Samuel Seabtjey was the son of the Eev. Sa-
muel Seabury, missionary of the Society for the
Propagation of the Gospel, at New London, Conn.
He was born at Groton in 1728, and was graduated
at Yale, 1748. He then went to Scotland to study
theology, but, while thus employed, also devoted
his attention to medicine. He was ordained, and
on his return to America, settled at New Bruns-
wick, as the missionary of the Society for the
Propagation of the Gospel. In 1756, he removed,
with the consent of the Society, to Jamaica, and
from thence, in 1766, to Westchester, where he
took charge, in addition to his church, of a
classical school. Here he wrote and published,
anonymously, several pamphlets in favor of the
Crown, under the signature of A. W. Farmer.
These publications were commonly attributed to
him, and were the cause of his being seized in
1775, by a party of soldiers, carried to New Ha-
ven, and imprisoned. As the fact of authorship
could not be proved, he was suffered to relurn to
"Westchester, where he continued to exert himself
in behalf of the same opinions. After the de-
claration of Independence, he removed with his
family to New York, on the entry of the British,
and remained until the peace, officiating, during
a portion of the time, as chaplain to the King's
American Regiment, commanded by Col. Fanning,
practising medicine for his own and the support
of those dependent upon him.

In March, 1783, immediately after the peace,
Dr. Seabury, having been elected bishop by the
clergy of Connecticut, sailed for England, and ap-
plied for consecration to the Archbishop of York,
the see of Canterbury being then vacant. This
application failed, in consequence of the inability
of the English bishops to dispense with the oath
of allegiance to the Crown, and the difficulty of
procuring an act of parliament for the purpose.
Having spent more than a year in England, in
fruitless efforts to overcome these obstacles, Dr.
Seabury, in August, 1784, made a similar applica-
tion to the bishops of the Scottish Episcopal
Church, by whom he was consecrated on Novem-
ber 14th, 1784. In the spring of the following
year he returned to America, and entered on the
duties of his office. He resided at New London,
where he also filled his father's place as rector of
the church, in addition to his episcopal duties.

In 1790, he published an address to the minis-
ters and congregations of the Presbyterian and
Independent persuasions in the United States of
America. He also published several sermons
delivered on special occasions, and, in 1791, Dis-
courses on Several Subjects, in two volumes, to
which a third was added in 1798. These dis-

stitution, or the fundamental Form of Government in Bri-
tain, demonstrating the original contract entered into by king
and people. Wherein is proved, that the placing on tho
throne King William III., was the natural fruit and effect
of the original Constitution, &c. London, 1772»»

MERCY WARREN.

163

courses displayed the vigor and earnestness of the
man, qualities which were also exerted to good
effect at the early conventions of the church, in
the arrangement of the liturgy and other import-
ant matters. Bishop Seabury died, February 25,
1796, at New London.

MERCY WAKKEN.

Mrs. Warp.ex was a member of a family cele-
brated for several generations in American history.
She was the third child of Colonel James Otis,
of Barnstable, where she was born Sept. 25, 1728.
Her early education was greatly aided by the
kindness shown to her by the Rev. Jonathan
Russell, the village clergyman, who lent her
books and directed her ta-.tes. His recommenda-
tion to her of Raleigh's History of the World
shows that she was a diligent reader, and the
perusal of that work is said to have been the
basis of her future historical labours.

ssf^fesis

'( & l £,/ //a/ /

7.

a ; / t ti_

About 1754 she married James "Warren, a
descendant of one of the first settlers of Ply mouth,
where he was at that time a merchant. In 1757,
Mr. Wan-en wa9 appointed High Sheriff on the
death of his father, who had held the same office.
He was not removed by the government until
after the actual commencement of the Revolu-
tionary conflict, though he took an active part on
the eolouial side in all the movements which led
to independence. He was the author of the
scheme for forming Committees of Correspon-
dence, which he suggested to Samuel Adams in
1773, by whom it was adopted with marked suc-
cess for the American cause. His wife, with
father, brother, and husband, prominent leaders in
the same cause, could not, with the active and
vigorous intellect with which nature had endowed
her, fail to be warmly interested in behalf of
liberty. Her correspondence shows that she en-
joyed the confidence and respect of all the great
leaders of the Revolution, with many of whom
she exchanged frequent letters. Her advice was
sought by men like Samuel and John Adams,

Jefferson, Dickinson, Gerry, and Knox, and her
suggestions received with marked respect. One
of these was the Congress of 1765, the first .sug-
gestion of which was made by the Corresponding
Committee of the New York Assembly. The
two Otises, father and son, while on a visit to
Mrs. Warren, at Plymouth, talked over this sug-
gestion, and it was agreed to propose such a Con-
vention in the Massachusetts Legislature, which
was done by the younger Otis on the 6th of June
following. She was an intimate friend of Mrs.
Adams, and the most celebrated men and women
of the day were her frequent guests. In her own
words, " By the Plymouth fireside were many
political plans originated, discussed, and digested."
Washington, with other generals of the army,
dined with her during her stay at Watertown,
one of her several residences during the war.
She writes of him as " one of the most amiable
and accomplished gentlemen, both in person,
mind, and manners, that I have met with."

Her first publication was The Adulator^ a
political satire in a dramatic form. It was fol-
lowed by a second satire of a similar design
and execution, TheQroup.\ She afterwards wrote
two tragedies, The Sack of Rome and The Ladies
of Castile, the heroine of the last being Mario
de Padilla, the wife of the leader of the popu-
lar insurrection against Charles V., in Castile.
They were highly commended by Alexander Ham-
ilton and John Adam-,J and were published with
her poems, most of which had appeared previously,
in 1790, with a dedication to Washington.§ One
of the most spirited of the lighter portions of the
volume is a poetical response to the Hon. John
Wiuthrop, who had consulted her on the proposed
suspension of trade with England in all but the
necessaries of life, as to the articles which should
be included in the reservation. It contains a
pleasant enumeration of the component parts of
a fine lady's toilet of '76.

A number of specimens are given of Mrs. War-
ren's letters, from the manuscript originals in the
possession of her descendants, by Mrs. Ellet, in
her " Women of the Revolution." They are all
marked by good sense and glowing patriotic
fervor. A passage descriptive of the entrance
into Cambridge of Burgoyne and his Hessians as

* The Adulator, a tragedy, as it is now acted iu Upper
Servia.

Then let us*ise, my friends, and strive to fill
This little interval, this pause of life
(While yet our liberty and fates arc doubtful)
With resolution, friendship. Roman bravery,
And all the virtues we can crowd iuto it ;
That Ueav'n may say it ought to be prolong" d.

Cato's Tragedy.

Boston. — Printed and sold at tne New Printing Office, near
Concert Hall. 1773. Svo. pp. 30.

t The Group, as lately acted, and to be re-acted, to the won-
der of all superior intelligences, nigh head-quarters at Am-
boyne. Boston, printed and sold by Edes & Gill, in Queen st.
1T7S.

X John Adams pays this lady a pointed compliment in a let-
! ter to her husband dated December, 1773, when he indulges iu
some poetical talk of his own on the Hyson and Congo ottered
to Neptune in " the scarcity of nectar and ambrosia among the
celestials of the sea," and expresses his wish in reference to
that tea party, "to see a late glorious event celebrated by a
certain poetical pen which has no equal that I know of in this
I country.1' He has also an allusion to Mrs. Warren's character
of Ha/.elrod, in her dramatic piece Tlie Group, written at the
expense of the Royalists. — Works, ix. 335.

§ Poems, Dramatic and Miscellaneous, by Mrs. M. Warren.

164

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

prisoners, present" a scene that recalls some of
the pictures of Hogarth's March to Finchley.

La9t Thursday, which was a very stormy day, a
large number of British troops came softly through
the town, via Watertown, to Prospect Hill. On
Friday we heard the Hessians were to make a pro-
cession in the same route. We thought we should
have nothing to do but to view them as they passed.
To be sure the sight was truly astonishing. 1 never
had the least idea that the creation produced such a
sordid set of creatures in human figure — poor, dirty,
emaciated men. Great numbers of women, who
seemed to be the beasts of burden, having bushel-
baskets on their backs, by which they were bent
double. The contents seemed to be pots and kettles,
various sorts of furniture, children peeping through
gridirons, and other utensils — some very young in-
fants, who were born on the road — the women bare-
foot, clothed in dirty rngs. Such effluvia filled the
air while they were passing, that, had they not been
smoking nil the time, I should have been apprehen-
sive of being contaminated.

An anecdote of Burgoyne, from the same letter,
is creditable to himself and his captors : —

General Burgoyne dined on Saturday, in Boston,

with General . He rode through the town

properly attended, down Court street, and through
the main street ; and on his return walked on foot
to Charlestown Ferry, followed by a great number
of spectators as ever attended a pope ; and gene-
rously observed to an officer with him, the decent
and modest behaviour of the inhabitants as he
passed ; saying, if he had been conducting prisoners
through the city of London, not all the Guards of
Majesty could have prevented insults. He likewise
acknowledges Lincoln and Arnold to be great gene-
rals.

She writes to the widow of Montgomery (a sis-
ter of Chancellor Livingston), January 20, 1776 : —

While you are deriving comfort from the highest
source, it may still further brighten the clouded
moment to reflect that the number of your friends
is not confined to the narrow limits of a province,
but by the happy union of the American colonies
(suffering equally by the rigor of oppression), the
affections of the inhabitants are cemented; and the
urn of the companion of your heart will be sprinkled
with the tears of thousands who revere the com-
mander at the gates of Quebec, though not person-
ally acquainted with General Montgomery.

One of her correspondents was Mrs. Macanlay,
the English authoress, who participated warmly
in her republican sympathies. They met for the
first time on the visit of the latter to America, in
1785.

She published in 1805, at the age of seventy-
seven, a History of the American Revolution, in
three volumes 8vo., which she had prepared some
time previously from her notes taken during the
■war.

Mrs. Warren lived to the good old age of eigh-
ty-seven, her intellectual powers unimpaired to
the last. Eochefoucault De Liancourt speaks of
her at seventy as "truly interesting; for lively
in conversation, she has lost neither the activity
of her mind nor the graces of her person." A
lady visitor ten years after speaks of her as erect
in person, and in conversation full of intelligence

and eloquence. Her cheerfulness remained un-
impaired, although blindness excluded her from
many of the delights of the outer world. Her
last illness was disturbed only by the fear that
disease might impair her intellectual as well as
physical faculties ; a groundless apprehension, as
her mind retained its vigor to the last.

FROM THE LADIES OF CASTILE.

Not like the lover, but the hero talk —

The sword must rescue, or the nation sink,

And self degraded, wear the badge of slaves.

We boast a cause of glory and renown;

We arm to purchase the sublimest gift

The mind of man is capable to taste.

'Tis not a factious, or a fickle rout,

That calls their kindred out to private war,

With hearts envenom'd by a thirst of blood —

Nor burns ambition, rancour, or revenge,

As in the bosom of some lordly chief

Who throws his gauntlet at his sovereign's foot,

And bids defiance in his wanton rage : —

'Tis freedom's genius, nurs'd from age to age,

Matur'd in schools of liberty and law,

On virtue's page from sire to son eonvey'd,

E'er since the savage, fierce, barbarian hordes,

Pour'd in, and ehas'd beyond Karvasia's mount,

The hardy chiefs who govern'd ancient Spain.

Our independent ancestors disdain'd

All servile homage to despotic lords.

TO TnE HON. .1. WINTHROP, ESQ., WHO ON THE AMERICAN BB-
TEP.MINATI0N, IN 1774, TO SUSPEND ALL COMMERCE WITH
BRITAIN (EXCEPT FOR THE REAL NECESSARIES OF LIFE), RE-
QUESTED A POETICAL LIST OF THE ARTICLES THE LADIES MIGHT
COMPRISE UNDER THAT HEAD.

But does Helvidius, vigilant and wise,
Call for a schedule, that may all comprise?
'Tis so contracted, that a Spartan sage,
Will sure applaud tli' economizing age.

But if ye doubt, an inventory clear,
Of all the needs, Lamira offers here;
Nor does she fear a rigid Cato's frown,
When she lays by the rich embroider' d gown,
And modestly compounds for just enough —
Perhaps some dozens of more slighty stuff;
With lawns and lustrings — blond and mecklin

laces,
Fringes and jewels, fans and tweezer eases,
Gay cloaks and hats, of every shape and size,
Scarfs, cardinals, and ribbons of all dyes;
With ruffles stamp'd, and aprons of tambour.
Tippets and handkerchiefs, at least three score;
With finest muslins that fair India boasts,
And the choice herbage from Chinesan coasts.
(But while the fragrant hyson leaf regales,
Who'll wear the homespun produce of the vales?
For if t'would save the nation from the curse
Of standing troops; or, name a plague still worse,
Few can this choice delicious diaughb»give up,
Though all Medea's poisons fill the cup.)
Add feathers, furs, rich sattins and du capes,
And head dresses in pyramidal shapes;
Side-boards of plate, and porcelain profuse,
AVith fifty dittos that the ladies use;
If my poor treach'rous memory has miss'd,
Ingenious T — 1 shall complete the list.
So weak Lamira, and her wants so few,
WLo can refuse ? they're but the sex's due.

In youth, indeed, an antiquated page,
Taught us the threatenings of an Hebrew safe
Gainst wimples, mantles, curls and crisping pins,
But rank not these among our modern sins ;

GEORGE BERKELEY.

165

For when our manners are well understood,
WUat in the scale is stomacher or hood ?

lis true, we love the courtly mien and air,
The pride of dress, and all the debonair;
Yet Clara quits the more dress'd negligee,
And substitutes the careless polanee;
Until some fair one from Britannia's court,
Some jaunty dress, — or newer taste import;
This sweet temptation could not be withstood,
Though for the purchase 's paid her father's blood ;
Though loss of freedom were the costly price,
Or flaming comets sweep the angry skies;
Or earthquakes rattle, or volcauos roar;
Indulge this trifle, and she asks no more:
Can the stern patriot Clara's suit deny ?
'Tis beauty asks, and reason must comply.

FROM " A POLITICAL REVERIE," JAN. 1774.

I look with rapture at the distant dawn,
And view the glories of the opening morn,
When justice holds his sceptre o'er the land,
And rescues freedom from a tyrant's hand ;
When patriot states in laurel crowns may rise,
And ancient kingdoms court them as allies,
Glory and valour shall be here displayed,
And virtue rear her long dejected head ;
Her standard plant beneath these gladden'd skies,
Her fame extend, and arts and science rise ;
While empire's lofty spreading sails unfuiTd,
Roll swiftly on towards the western world.

******* *
No despot here shall rule with awful sway,
Nor orphan's spoils become the minion's prey;
No more the widow'd bleeding bosom mourns,
Nor injur'd cities weep their slaughter'd sons;
For then each tyrant, bj7" the hand of fate,
And standing troups, the bane of every state,
Forever spuru'd, shall be remov'd as far
As bright Hesperus from the polar star ;
Freedom and virtue shall united reign,
And stretch their empire o'er the wide domain.
On a broad base the commonwealth shall stand,
When lawless power withdraws its impious hand;
When crowns and sceptres are grown useless

things,
Nor petty pretors plunder her for kings.

GEOKGE BERKELEY.
" The arrival in America of the Rev. Mr. George
Berkeley, then Dean of Derry, afterwards Bishop
of Cloyne," says Samuel Miller, in his Retrospect
of the Eighteenth Century, " deserves to be
noticed in the literary history of America, not
only as a remarkable event, but also as one which
had some influence on the progress of literature,
particularly in Rhode Island and Connecticut."*

Berkeley was to the country not only a per-
sonal friend and benefactor, through the genial
example of his scholar's life and conversation, and
the gifts which he directly made, but ho brought
with him the prestige which attached to high
literary reputation, and was a connecting link to
America with what is called the Augustan age
of Queen Anne. Born in Ireland, March 12,
1(184, and educated at Trinity College, Dublin, he
had acquired distinction in mathematics and phi-
losophy, and before the age of thirtv had vented
his celebrated ideal theory in print. He was
introduced by Steele and Swift to the circle of

London wits, who admired the man while they
jested at his immaterial philosophy. To the fine
speculations of the scholar, he had added a know-
ledge of the world, and the liberal associations of
travel through his residence in Italy and France.
By the friendship of the Duke of Grafton ha

* Retrospect, ii. 349.

received his appointment as Dean of Derry; and
the death of Swift's Vanessa, who made him one
of her legatees, further added to his resources.
With all this good fortune at hand, his benevolent
enthusiasm led him to engage in the distant and
uncertain project of erecting a college in the Ber-
mudas, for converting the American Indians to
Christianity. He wrote out his Proposal* and
his friend Swift gave him a letter to Lord Car-
teret to second the affair, with a humorous ac-
count of the amiable projector. " He is an absolute
philosopher with regard to money, titles, and
power ; and for three years past hath been struck
with a notion of founding a university at Ber-
muda, by a charter from the crown. He shewed
me a little tract which he designs to publish, and
there your Excellency will see his whole scheme
of a life academico-philosophical of a college
founded for Indian schools and missionaries,
where he most exorbitantly proposeth a whole
hundred pounds a year for himself, forty pounds
for a fellow, and ten for a student. His heart will
break if his deanery be not taken from him, and
left to your Excellency's disposal.' t

Berkeley was an ingenious political economist,
as his book, The Querist, proves; and managing
to connect his scheme with plans of advantage to
the Government, he gained, through one of his
Italian friends, the ear of George I., who ordered
Sir Robert Walpole to carry the project through.
St. Paul's College, Bermuda, was incorporated,

* A Proposal for the Better Supplying of Churches in our
Foreign Plantations; and for Converting the Savage Americans
to Christianity, by a College to be Erected in the Summer
Islands, otherwise called the Isles of Bermuda. Lond. 17'.25.

t Swift to Lord Carteret, Sept. 3, 1724.

166

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

and twenty thousand pounds promised for its
support.

Dean Berkeley set sail, or at least was ready to
embark from Gravesend, September 6, 1728, for
the New World* He had just completed the
honeymoon of his marriage with Anne Forster,
the daughter of the Speaker of the Irish House
of Commons, to whom he had been united on the
first of August, — and of "whom he writes before
leaving England, at this time, to his friend Thomas
Prior, as a lover should, that " her humor and
turn of mind pleases me beyond anything I know
in her whole sei." This lady accompanied him
with her i'riend, " my Lady Hancock's daughter ;"
and three gentlemen completed the party, Mr.
James, Mr. Dalton, and Mr. Smibert. The last
was the artist whose name is prominently con-
nected with the early history of American art.
He sketched a group of his fellow-travellers in
the cabin, at sea, at least this is one of the Berke-
ley traditions, — which he afterwards painted, in
the interesting picture which now hangs in the
Gallery of Yale College.t If so, he made the addi-
tion of the child in his wife's arms subse-
quently, for that infant was born in Ame-
rica.} The travellers reached Newport the
23d of January, 1729, after a protracted pas-
sage of rive months. § There is a tradition,
which is probably worth very little, that
Berkeley sent a letter on coming up the bay
to the Rev. James Iloneyman, the Episcopal

* There is a tradition that Berkeley sailed for
Bermuda directly, and that the captain of the vessel,
not finding his way to that island, accidentally put
into Newport. This is so stated in the Memoir in
Updike's History of the Narragansett Church (p. 395);
but the matter is conclusively set at rest by Berkeley's
own letter to his friend Thomas Prior, dated Graves-
end, Sept. 5,1728, where he says: "To-morrow, with
God's blessing, I set sail for Rhode Island." — Letters
appended to Memoir of Berkeley. Edition of, his
works by Priestley. London, 1820, i. xxxvi.

t Smibert," says Mr. H. T. Tuckerman, in an article on
Berkeley in the North American Review, for January, 1855, p.
190, "was the first educated artist who visited our shores, and
this picture was the first of more than a single figure executed
in the country." Smibert had risen in his art from the hum-
ble fortunes of a house-painter. Horace Walpole describes
him in his Anecdotes of Painting as "a silent and modest man,
who abhorred the .finesse of some of his profession, and was
enchanted with a plan that he thought promised him tranquil-
lity and honest subsistence in a healthful elysian climate, and
in spite of remonstrances engaged with the Dean."— Walpole,
ed. 1849, 673. We follow Walpole. who follows Vertue, as de-
cisive authority for the spelling of the name, about which there
has been some uncertainty — John Smibert.

X There is a description of this painting in the well prepared
Catalogue of the College Gallery. " The principal figure is the
Dean in his clerical habit. The lady with the child is his wife ;
the other lady has been said to be her sister, but more proba-
bly is the Miss Hancock who accompanied her to America.
The gentleman writing at the table is Sir James Dalton The
gentleman standing behind the ladies has been thought by
some to be a Mr. WainwriL'ht; but. is undoubtedly Mr. James.
The other gentleman in brown is a Mr. John Moffat, a friend
of the artist. The remaining figure is the artist Smibert. The
Dean is resting his hand on a copy of Plato, his favorite author,
and appears to be dictating to Sir James, who is acting as
amanuensis. This painting was presented to the college in
the year 1808, by Isaac Lothrop, of Plymouth, Mass. It had
been preserved in Boston, in a room occupied by the 8ml-
berts; certainly by the son, and probably bv the father."

§ A Newport letter dated January 24, describing Berkeley's
arrival, was printed in the Boston New England Journal, Sep-
tember 3, 1729, It says, " Yesterday arrived here Dean Berke-
ley, of Londonderry, in a pretty large ship. He is a gentleman
of middle stature, of an agreeable, pleasant, and erect aspect.
He was ushered into the town with a <rrcat number of gentle-
men, to whom he behaved himself after a very complaisant
manner. 'Tis said he purposes to tarry here with his family
about three months." If the Dean did not embark on the day
proposed, and some delay might have occurred, the time of
his passage would, of course, be less. We find the date of the
Boston paper in Updike's Narr. Ch., p. 394; the date of the
letter in Elton's Memoir of Callender, p. 31.

clergyman'of the town, which found him at church
celebrating a holiday. The intelligence was com-
municated to the congregation, Mr. Honeyman
dismissed them with his blessing, and the wholo
body proceeded to meet the distinguished Dean
on the wharf.* Six months passed, and the Dean's
Bermuda enterprise still lingered for hick of the
prompt receipt of "His Majesty's bounty." The
opening of summer reconciled him, however, to
the delay. He writes in June of the delight of
the climate and of the birth of a son.

"The truth is," he says, "if the king's bounty
could be paid in, and the charter could be removed
hither, I should like it better than Bermuda."
His friends of the voyage were drawn at the close
of the year to Boston, and solicitations were made
to carry Berkeley thither, but " preferring quiet
and solitude to the noise of a great town," and
happy in the " two domestic comforts that arc
very agreeable, my wife and my little son," he
still remained at Newport in the enjoyment of the
country estate which he had purchased. There
his acquaintance was sought by Samuel Johnson,

Whitehall,
afterwards the president of King's College in New
York, and then a resident in Connecticut, who
called his attention to the wants of Yale College,
to which he became so liberal a donort of books
and land ; after his retirement to England set-
tling upon the college his farm of ninety-six acres,
to which he had given the name of Whitehall, for
the assistance of its scholars } He also made valu-
able gifts to the library of Harvard, and when he
left Newport distributed the books he had with
him among the neighboring clergy.

It was also after his arrival in England, in 1733,
that he presented the organ to Trinity church, at
Newport, which is still surmounted by the crown
of the olden time, and which bears an inscription
that it is the gift of Dr. George Berkeley, late
Lord Bishop of Cloyne.

This organ was originally forwarded to Ame-
rica by the Dean, as a gift to the town of Berke-

* Memoir of Trinity Church, Newport, from 1G9S to 1S1I),
compiled from the Records; by Henry Bull, Esq., with Notes
by the Rector, Rev. Francis Vinton. — Updike's Narr. Ch. 395.

t Chandler's Life of Johnson, 55-53; ante, S7.

J The autograph, which we trive, is taken directly from
Berkeley's deed of gift to the college. The woodcut head is
after the portrait in the Smibert picture. We find the fol-
lowing entry in the New England Weekly Journal, October
80, 1732 :— " Newport, October 20.— We bear that the Rev.
Mr. George Berkeley, Dean of Londonderry, has given his
farm on this island, worth about £3,000, to Yale college, in
Connecticut.'1

GEORGE BERKELEY.

167'

ley, in Massachusetts, which had been named
after him. The select men of the town, how-
ever, were not prepared to harbor so dangerous a
guest, and voting that " an organ is an instrument
of the devil, for the entrapping of men's souls,"
declined the offer ; when the Dean conferred it
on Trinity.* It still sends forth its strains from
some of the old pipes.

During his pleasant sojourn in America, we
always hear of Berkeley in some amiable relation.
He compliments the Huguenot refugee, Gabriel
Bernon,in a letter written in French, on his "zeal
for religion and the glory of God." He. preaches
constantly for his friend, the rector of Trinity, the
Rev. James Iloneyman, in the pulpit which is still
there, while the Quakers stand in their broad-
brimmed hats in the aisles to hear him; on one
occasion humorously announcing that " to give the
devil his due, John Calvin was a great man. "t In
company with Smibert, Col. Updike, and Dr.
McSparran, he visits the Narraghansett Indians.
To his friend, Daniel Updike, the attorney-general
of the colony, he presents his " well- wrought
silver coffee-pot," still preserved as a relic in the
family, as the good bishop's old-fashioned chair,
" in which he is believed to have composed the
Minute Philosopher," is esteemed as an heir-loom
at this day by Dr. Ooit.| There is an anecdote of
Berkeley's calculations respecting the value of
property at Newport, preserved by a traveller,
the Church of England clergyman, Andrew Bur-
naby, who visited Newport in 1700, which at
this time of day is curious. The growth of New-
port, which suffjred a relapse after the Revolu-
tion, and was for a long while in abeyance, is now
again in the ascendant; not as Berkeley may
have anticipated with the commerce of Cheap-
side, but with the luxury of the American Babe.
" About three miles from town," writes Bur-
naby, " is an indifferent woolen house, built by
Dean Berkeley, when he was in these parts : the
situation is low, but commands a fine view of the
ocean, and of some wild rugged rocks that are on the
left hand of it. Tluy relate here several strange
stories of the Dean's wild and chimerical notions ;
which, as they are characteristic of that extra-
ordinary man, deserve to be taken notice of.
One in particular, I must beg the reader's indul-
gence to allow ine to repeat to him. The Dean
had formed a plan of building a town upon the
rocks, and of cutting a road through a sandy
beach which lies a little below it, in order that
ships might come up and be sheltered in bad
weather. He was so full of this project, as one
day to say to one Smibert, a designer, whom he
had brought over with him from Europe, on the
latter asking some ludicrous question concerning

* Mason's Newport Illustrated: 99. It is said that there is
another claimant for the honors of the organ, in a church of
Brooklyn, N. Y. The story goes that the Newport organ
boing out of repair, was sent to New York to be put in order.
A portion of the pipes were found to be so defective that it
was considered expedient to replace them by new ones, which
were provided, and forwarded in the old case. It afterwards
occurred to a workman that the old metal should not be thrown
away; so he restored the rejected pipes, and thev were set up
in a new case in the Brooklyn Church. Mason states, "the
original case, of English oak, is still in use in the church, and
it contains a part of the old works, with the addition of such
new pipes as were found necessary when it was rebuilt a few
years ago.1'

t Updike's Narr. Church, 129.

t Ibid. 290, 306.

the future importance of the place : ' Truly, you
have very little foresight, for in fifty years' time
every foot of land in this place will be as valuable
as the land in Cheapside.' The Dean's house,
notwithstanding his prediction, is at present no-
thing better than a farm-house, and his library
converted into the dairy: when he left America,
he gave it to the college at New Haven, in Con-
necticut, who have let it to a farmer on a long
lease; his books he divided between this college
and that in Massachusetts. The Dean is said to
have written in this place The Minute Philoso-
pher."* For the value of the farm, it must be
great to its present holder ; Yale College having
in the last century leased out the land for a term
of nine hundred and ninety-nine years, at a rent
payable in wheat, which was afterwards com-
muted into the present annual receipt of one hun-
dred and forty dollars.

Berkeley left America, by the way of Boston,
on his return to England, in September, 1731, and
in February of the following year, preached a
sermon before the Incorporated Society for the
Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts, in
which he speaks of his observations of the
American colony, alluding, among other points,
to the fashion of infidelity which had spread
from the mother country. This was the topic
of his chief work, Alciphron, or the Minute
Philosopher, which he published the same year,
and which he had penned in America. It
is a series of dialogues, after the manner of
Plato, ingeniously combating the free-thinking
spirit of the age as it manifested itself in
" the atheist, libertine, enthusiast, scorner, critic,
metaphysician, fatalist, and sceptic." The dia-
logue is graced by occasional passages of descrip-
tion of the scenery at Newport, in the midst of
which it was written. It opens with a reference
to the disappointment in the Bermuda scheme.

I flattered myself, Tbeages, that before this time
I might have been able to have sent you anagreea-
ble account of the success of the affair which brought
me into this remote corner of the country. But
instead of this, I should now give you the detail of
its miscarriage, if I did not rather choose to enter-
tain you with some amusing incidents, which have
helped to make me easy under a circumstance I
could neither obviate nor foresee. Events are not
in our power ; but it always is, to make a good use
even of the very worst. And I must needs own,
the course and event of this affair gave opportunity
for reflections that make me some amends for a
great loss of time, pains and expense. A life of
action, which takes its issue from the counsels, pas-
sions, and views of other men, if it doth not draw a
man to imitate, will at least teach him to observe.
And a mind at liberty to reflect on its own observa-
tions, if it produce nothing useful to the world, seldom
fails of entertainment to itself. For several months
past I have enjoyed such liberty and leisure in this
distant retreat, far beyond the verge of that great
whirlpool of business, faction and pleasure, which is
called the world.

The writer describes his host Euphranor, the
philosopher and the farmer, two characters not so

* Travels through the Middle Settlements in North America,
In the years 1759 and 17*50. By the Rev. Andrew Burnaby,
A.M., Vicar of Greenwich. Load. 4to. 1775.

168

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

inconsistent in nature as by custom they seem to
be, and bis friend Crito, who maintain the burden
of discourse in behalf of truth and Revelation
against the sceptical Alciphron and Lysicles. The
first conversation is in the open air — a pleasant
picture of the landscape.

Next morning Euphranor rose early, and spent
the forenoon in ordering his affairs. After dinner
we took a walk to Crito's, which lay through half a
dozen pleasant fields planted round witli plane trees,
that are very common in this part of the country.
We walked under the delicious shade of these trees
for about an hour before we came to Crito's house,
which stands in the middle of a small park, beauti-
fied with two fine groves of oak and walnut, and a
winding stream of sweet and clear water. We met
a servant at the door with a small basket of fruit,
which he was carrying into the grove, where he said
his master was, with the two strangers. "We found
them all three sitting under a shade. And after the
usual forms at first meeting, Euphranor and I sat
down by them. Our conversation began about the
beauty of this rural scene, the fine season of the
year, and some late improvements which had been
made in the adjacent country by new methods of
agriculture.

The next " Dialogue" is carried on by the sea-
shore : —

Next morning Alciphron and Lysicle3 said the
weather was so fine they had a mind to spend the
day abroad, and take a cold dinner under a shade
in some pleasant part of the country. Whereupon,
after breakfast, we went down to a beach about
half a mile off; when we walked on the smooth
sand, witli the ocean on one hand, and on the other
wild broken rocks, intermingled witli shady trees
and springs of waters, till the sun began to be
uneasy. We then withdrew into a hollow glade
between two rocks.

These associations are cherished at Newport,
and the spot is pointed out where Berkeley wrote
Alciphron. It gives a flavor to the region to
have had the fine argument and poetic thoughts
of the book written there. Though it belongs to
English rather than American literature, we may
quote one of its passages, for its bearing upon the
author's liberality to our colleges, that in which
he refutes an attack of Shaftesbury upon " men of
the church and universities" as unfriendly to true
learning.

In the mean time, I must beg to be excused,
if I cannot believe your great man on his bare
word ; when he would have us think, that igno-
rance and ill taste are owing to Christian reli-
gion or the clergy, it being my sincere opinion, that
whatever learning or knowledge we have among us,
is derived from that order. If those, who are so
sagacious at discovering a mote in other eyes, would
but purge their own, I believe they might easily
see tins truth. For what but religion could kindle
and preserve a spirit towards learning, in such a
northern rough people? Greece produced men of
active and subtile genius. The public conventions
and emulations of their cities forwarded that genius ;
and their natural curiosity was amused and excited
by learned conversations, in their public walks and
gardens and porticos. Our genius leads to amuse-
ments of a grosser kind: we breathe a grosser
and a colder air: and that curiosity which was
general iu the Athenians, and the gratifying of

which was their chief recreation, is among our
people of fashion treated like affectation, and as
such banished from polite assemblies and places
of resort; and without doubt would in a little
time be banished the country, if it were not for the
great reservoirs of learning, where those formalists,
pedants, and bearded boys, as your profound critic
calls them, are maintained by the liberality and
piety of our predecessors. For it is as evident that
religion was the cause of those seminaries, as it is
that they are the cause or source of all the learning
and taste which are to be found, even in those very
men who are the declared enemies of our religion
and public foundations. Every one, who knows any
thing, knows we are indebted for our learning to the
Greek and Latin tongues. This those severe censors
will readily grant. Perhaps they may not be so
ready to grant, what all men must see, that we are
indebted for those tongues to our religion. What
else could have made foreign and dead languages in
such request among us? What could have kept in
being and handed them down to our times, through
so many dark ages in which the world was wasted
and disfigured by wars and violence ? What, but a
regard to the Holy Scriptures, and theological
writings of the fathers and doctors of the church?
And in fact, do we not find that the learning of
those times was solely in tlte hands of ecclesiastics,
that they alone lighted the lamp in succession one
from another, and transmitted it down to after-ages;
and that ancient books were collected and pre-
served in their colleges and seminaries, when all
love and remembrance of polite arts and studies were
extinguished among the laity, whose ambition
entirely turned to arms?

A eulogy which might be justly extended to
our American seats of literature which have been
so greatly indebted to clergymen.

Berkeley soon became Bishop of Cloyne, and
some years afterwards again found vent for his
amiable enthusiasm in advocating his specific of
tar water, which he made quite the fashion of
the day,* and for which he gained the attention
of philosophers and theologians by the subtle
speculations of his Siris ; a Chain of Philosophi-
cal Reflections and Inquiries concerning the
virtues of Tar Water ; and divers other subjects
connected together and arising one from another.^

In his death Berkeley realized the Euthanasia
which he had desired. On a Sunday evening,
Jan. 14, 1753, as he was with his family in his
residence at Oxford, lying on a couch listening to
his wife reading a sermon by Sherlock, the final
messenger came to him in silence, and it was not
perceived that he was dead till hu daughter
offered him a cup of tea. He was buried at
Christ Church, and a weil written inscription in
Latin was put upon his monument: but the
friendly pen of Pope wrote his lasting epitaph :

* " It is impossible," writes Mr. Buncombe to Archbishop
Herring iu 1744. " to write a letter now without tincturing tho
ink with tar water. This is the common topic of discuurso
both among the rich and poor, high and low; and the Bi-hop
of Cloyne has made it as fashionable as going to Yauxhall or
Kanelagll."

t " Had the conversation(Coleridge's) been thrown upon paper
it might have been easy to trace the continuity of the links;
just as in Bishop Berkeley's Siris. [Seiris ought to have been
the name, i.& Xctpts, a chain] from a pedestal so low and ab-
ject,—so culinary as tar water, the method of preparing it and
its medicinal effects — the dissertation ascends, like Jacob's
ladder, by just gradations, into the Heaven of Heavens aLd Hid
Thrones of the Trinity."— De Quincy.

GEORGE BERKELEY.

109

To Berkeley every "virtue under heaven.*

Berkeley's prophetic verses on America, so
often quoted,! will secure his popular reputation
with our history.!

As an introduction to them wo may present,
with other illustrations of the main idea, a passage
from George Herbert's poem of " The Church
Militant," published in 1633, in which the pro-
gress of religion westward had been a century
earlier commemorated.

Religion stands on tiptoe in our land,

Ready to pass to the American strand.

When height of malice, and prodigious lusts,

Impudent sinning, witchcrafts, and distrusts,

The marks of future bane, shall fill our cup

Unto the brim, and make our measure up ;

When Seine shall swallow Tiber, and the Thames

By letting in them both, pollutes her streams !

When Italy of us shall have her will,

And all her calendar of sins fulfil ;

Whereby one miy foretell what sins next year

Shall both in France and England domineer:

Then shall religion to America flee ;

They have their times of Gospel, e'en as we.

My God, thou dost prepare for them a way,

By carrying first their gold from them away:

For gold and grace did never yet agree :

Religion always sides with poverty.

We think we rob them, but we think amiss:

We are more poor, and they more rich by this.

Thou wilt revenge their quarrel, making grace

To pay our debts, and leave our ancient place

To go to them, while that, which now their nation

But lends to us, shall be our desolation.

Yet as the Church shall thither westward fly,

So sin shall trace and dog her instantly ;

They have their period also and set times,

Both for their virtuous actions and their crimes.

Inlfi81Sir Thomas Browne published " certain
Miscellany Tracts," one of which, entitled The
Prophecy, contained several reflections of this kind

* Epilogue to the Satires.

t And sometimes misquoted, particularly in making one of
the lines misread —

Westward the star of empire takes its way.
X These lines, though now familiar to everv schoolboy, were
not many years ago brought out by Mr. Verplanck in his anni-
versary discourse before the New York Historical Society as a
novelty, and Knapp, in his Lectures on American Literature,
quotes •' this little poem as extremely scarce'1 from that source.
— Lectures, 04.

There is a curious reminiscence, or rather unsatisfactory
tradition, of these lines of Berkeley, in a letter of John Adams
to Benjamin Rush, dated 180T,in which he introduces "brother
Crancli, a gentleman of four score," and interrogates him as to
a couplet, the second line of which ran-

And empire rises where the sun descends:
His friend, after a moment's pause, gave him —

The eastern nations sink, their glory ends,
And empire rises where the sun descends.
" I asked him," continues Adams, " if Dean Berkeley was the
author of them. He answered, no. The tradition was, as he
had heard it for sixty years, that these lines were inscribed, or
rather drilled, into a rock on the shore of Monument Bay, in
our old colony of Plymouth, and were supposed to have been
written and engraved there by some of the first emigrants
from Leydcn, who landed at Plymouth, However this may
be, I may add my testimony to Mr. Cl'anch's, that I have
heard these verses for more than sixty years. I conjecture
that Berkeley became connected with them, in my head, by
some report that the Bishop had copied them into some
publication. There is nothing in my little reading, more an-
cient in my memory than the observation that arts, sciences,
and empire had travelled westward; and in conversation it
was always added, since I was a child, that their next leap
would be over the Atlantic into America."— John Adams's
Works, ix. 6'uo.

on the rise and progress of America, in which, Dr.
Johnson says, " Browne plainly discovers his ex-
pectation to be the same with that entertained
lately with more confidence by Dr. Berkeley,
that ' America will be the seat of the fifth em-

pire.

It is in verse, with a prose commentary.

The lines relating to America are,

When New England shall trouble New Spain,
When America shall cease to send out its treasure,
But employ it at home in American pleasure;
When the new world shall the old invade,
Nor count them their lords but their fellows in
trade.f

The benevolent prophecies of Berkeley, in refer-
ence to America, also recall to us the later anti-
cipations, which, if not the measure of our per-
formance, were of his own benevolence, expressed
in 1773 by the good Bishop of St. Asaph, the
worthy friend of Franklin, before the Society for
the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts,
which always had American welfare at heart.
"It is difficult," said he, "for men to look into
the destiny of future ages, the designs of Provi-
dence are too vast and complicated, and our own
powers are too narrow to admit of much satisfac-
tion to our curiosity. But when we see many
great and powerful causes constantly at work, wo
cannot doubt of their producing proportionable
effects. The colonies in North America have not
only taken root and acquired strength, but seem
hastening, with an accelerated progress, to such a
powerful state as may introduce a new and im-
portant change in human affairs." He goes on to
describe their opportunities and the prospects of
new states. "The vast continent itself, over
which they are gradually spreading, may be con-
sidered as a treasure, yet untouched, of natural
productions that shall hereafter afford ample
matter for commerce and contemplation." And
he anticipates that " time and discipline may dis-
cover some means to correct the extreme inequa-
lities of condition between the rich and the
poor."J

VERSES ON THE PROSPECT OF PLANTING ARTS AND LEARNING
IN AMERICA.

The Muse, disgusted at an age and clime,

Barren of every glorious theme,
In distant lands now waits a better time,

Producing subjects worthy fame:

Iu happy climes, where from the genial sun
And virgin earth such scenes ensue,

The force of art by nature seems outdone,
And fancied beauties by the true:

In happy climes the seat of innocence,
Where nature guides and virtue rules,

Where men shall not impose for truth and sense,
The pedantry of courts and schools:

There shall be sung another golden age,

The rise of empire and of arts,
The good and great inspiring epic rage,

The wisest heads and noblest hearts.

* Life of Sir Thomas Browne.

t Sir Thomas Browne's Works, iv. 232. Grahame, in his His-
tory of the United States, notices this idea of western progress
In the country, quoting Bumaby's Travels, and leferring to the
language of the Italian irnprovisatoi e to Benjamin West, as the
story is related in Gait's Life.— History, iv. 130, MS.

X Bishop Shipley's Works, ii. 3^S.

170

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Not such as Europe breeds in her decay ;

Such as she bred when fresh and young,
When heavenly flame did animate her clay,

By future poets shall be sung.

Westward the course of empire takes its way;

The four first acts already past,
A fifth shall close the drama with the day ;

Time's noblest offspring is the last.

CHAELES THOMSON,

The "perpetual secretary" of the old Revolutionary
Congress from 1775, was a man of literary tastes,
who, when he had long served his country and
become to his contemporaries one of the best
known and most respected personages of our early
political annals, occupied the remainder of his
life in composition, publishing a' Translation of
the Old and New Testaments. He was born in
Ireland in 1729, and came to America at the age
of eleven. His father died on the pas>age, and he
was thrown on his own resources in Maryland.
One of his brothers assisted him in entering the
school of Dr. Alison, at Thunder Hill in that
state. Books were scarce, and a single lexicon
did duty for the whole school. A story is told
of the boy's eagerness in pursuit of an intellectual
pleasure. One of his schoolfellows came down
from Philadelphia, bringing with him an odd vo-
lume of the Spectator. Thomson read it with
great delight, and learning that an entire set
could be purchased at a certain place for the
small stock of money which he had at command,
without asking permission he set off on foot for
Philadelphia to buy it. Having obtained it he
returned, when the motive of his journey was
taken a; sufficient excuse for the truant. An
anecdote like this is worth a volume in illustrat-
ing the character of the man and the state of
literature in America at the time. At Dr. Ali-
son's seminary he learnt Greek, Latin, and Mathe-
matics enough to undertake a Friends' Academy
in Philadelphia, which he conducted with credit.
He was an ardent republican, and immediately
upon the assembling of the old Continental Con-
gress of 1774, was chosen its secretary. John
Adams at the time, in his Diary, describes him as
"the Sam. Adams of Philadelphia, the life of the
cause of liberty."* He retained his post of Secre-
tary with every Congress till the close of the
war, and was chosen as the person to inform
Washington at Mount Vernon of his nomination
to the Presidency. His services to Congress
were very efficient, and the repute of his integrity
gained him the name with the Indians of " The
Man of Truth. "t

The Rev. Ashbel Green, President of the Col-
lege of New Jersey, in his Autobiography, says
of the sacred regard for truth which marked the
statements of the old Congress, that it became a
proverb, "It's as true as if Charles Thomson's
name was to it;" and adds this personal reminis-
cence,— " I had the happiness to be personally
acquainted with Charles Thomson. He was tall
of stature, well proportioned, and of primitive
simplicity of manners. He was one of the best
classical scholars that our country has ever pro-

* Works, ii. 858.

t Walsh s Article, Am. Biography. Am. Qnar. Rev. i. 29-32.

duced. He made three or four transcriptions of
his trairslation of the whole Bible, from the Sep-
tuagint of the Old Testament, and from the
original of the New; still endeavoring in each to
make improvements on his former labors. After
our revolutionary war wa? terminated, and before
the adoption of the present Constitution of the
United States, our country was in a very deplo-
rable state, and many of our surviving patriotic
fathers, and Mr. Thomson among the rest, could
not easily rid themselves of gloomy apprehen-
sions. Mr. Thomson's resource was the study of
the Sacred Scriptures. His last work was a
Harmony of the Four Gospels, in the language
of his own version."*

In person Thomson was remarkable. The
Abbe Robin,who was in the country with Rocham-
beau, found him at Philadelphia "the soul of the
body politic, rt and was struck with his meagre
and furrowed countenance, his hollow and spark-
ling eyes, and white erect hair. This description,
in 1781, does not argue a condition of perfect
health, yet Thomson lived till 1824, dying at the
venerable age of ninety-five.

EOEEET EOGEES.

Robert was the son of James R. Rogers, an early
settler of the town of Dumbarton, New Hamp-
shire, entered military service during the French
war, and raised a company of Rangers, who ac-
quired a high reputation for activity in the region
surrounding Lake George, where his name is per-
petuated by the precipice known as Rogers's slide,
on the edge of the lake, so called from an act of
daring of their leader in escaping down its steep
side, and so over the ice, from a party of Indians
in hot pursuit. In 1760 Rogers received orders
from Sir Jeffrey Amherst to take possession of
Detroit and other western posts ceded by the
French after the fall of Quebec. He ascended the
St. Lawrence and the lakes with two hundred of
his rangers, visited Fort Pitt, had an interview
with the Indian chief, Pontiae, at the site of the
present Cleveland on Lake Erie; received the
submission of Detroit, but was prevented from
proceeding further by the approach of winter. lie
afterwards visited England, where he suffered
from want until he borrowed the means to print
his Journal and present it to the King, when he
received the appointment of Governor of Michili-
mackinac in 1765.J He returned and entered
upon his command, but was afterwards, on an
accusation of a plot to deliver up his post to the
Spaniards, then the possessors of Louisiana, sent
to Montreal in irons. In 1769 he revisited. Eng-
land, was presented to the King, and imprisoned
for debt. He afterwards, according to his ac-
count of himself to Dr. Wheelock at Dartmouth,
"fought two battles in Algiers under the Dey."

In 1775 he made his appearance in the northern
states, where lie made loud professions of patriot-
ism, and talked of recent interviews with the
Congress at Philadelphia. He held a pass from
that body, but it had been obtained after he had

* Life of Ashbel Green, 4S.

t Nouveau Voyage dans l'Amerique Septcntrionale. en Tan-
nee 17S1 ct campagne de l'amire de M. le Comte de Eocham-
beau. Par M. l'Abbc Eobin. Paris, 17S2. pp. 91.

% Diary of John Adams, December 27, 17G5. "Works, U,
1C7.

ROBERT ROGERS.

171

been their prisoner, and been released on bis
parole. In January, 1776, Washington recom-
mended that he should be watched, and in June
ordered his arrest, lie was taken at South Am-
boy, where he professed to be on his way to offer
his services to Congress. Washington sent him
to that body, by whom he was directed to return
to New Hampshire. He soon after openly joined
the side of the crown, accepted a colonelcy, and
raised a company called the Queen's Rangers. In
the fall of 1776 he narrowly escaped being taken pri-
soner by Lord Stirling at Mamaroneck. He not long
after went to England, and was succeeded in his
command by Colonel Siincoe. He was proscribed
and banished under the act of New Hampshire in
1778, and his subsequent history is unknown.*

Rogers published, in 1765, his Journals^ a
spirited account of bis early adventures as a ran-
ger, and in the same year A Concise Account of
North America.^ He attempted a bolder flight
in the following year in his tragedy of Ponteach.
The publication does not bear his name. It is a
curious production, the peculiarities of which can
be best displayed by analysis and extract.

The play of Ponteach opens with an interview be-
tween two Indian traders, one of whom di -clo?es to
bis less experienced associate, the means by which
the Indians are cheated in the commerce for furs.
Indians enter with packs of skins which they part
with for rum. They are defrauded by a juggle in
the weight, and paid in well watered spirits. We
have njxt Osborne and Honnyman, two English
hunters, in possession of the stage, who'expatiate
on the advantages of shooting down well laden
Indians, and taking possession of their packs
without even the ceremony of bargains. The
scene changes to an English fort, with Colonel
Cockum aud Captain Frisk, a pair of blusterers,
who propose immediate extermination of the red-
skins. Ponteach enters with complaints that his
men are cheated, but receives naught but abuse
in return. We have next a scene in which the
governors distribute the presents sent by the Eng-
lish King to the Indians, reserving half of the
stock for themselves and retaining a similar share
of the furs brought by the Indians in return.
What would, says Catehum, one of these Govern-
ors, the King of England do with Wampum?

Or beaver skins d'ye think ? He's not a hatter !

Thus ends the first act. In the second, the In-
dian dramatis personaa are brought forward.
Ponteach summons Ins sons Philip and Chekitan,
and his counsellor Tenesco, to deliberate on war
with the English. He feels sure of the support

* Sabine's American Loyalists. Parkmaa's Ilistorv of Pon-
tiac, p. 114. '

t Journals of Major Robert Rogers, containing an account of
the several excursions he made, under the generals who com-
manded on the continent el' America during tile late war. From
which may be collected the most material circumstances of
every campaign on that continent from the commencement to
the conclusion of the war. London, 17(15. 8vo. jip. 236.

X A concise account of North America, containing a descrip-
tion ot the several British colonies on that continent, including
the islands of Newfoundland, Cape Breton, &c. ; as to their
situation, extent, climate, soil, produce, rise, government, pre-
sent boundaries, and the number of inhabitants supposed to be
in each. Also,* of the interior or westerly parts of the country
upon the rivers St. Lawrence, the Mississippi, Christine, and
the great lakes. To which is subjoined an account of the seve-
ral nations and tribes of Indians residing in those parts, as to
their customs, manners, government, numbers, &c., containing
many useful and entertaining facts, never before treated of By
Major Robert Rogers. London, 1TU5. Svo. pp. 204.

of the chiefs, with the exception of the " Mohawk
Emperor." Philip undertakes to secure his con-
currence, and Ponteach departs to consult his
Indian doctor and a French priest, as to the in-
terpretation of a dream which he relates. After
his exit Philip narrates his plan. It is to secure
possession of Monelia and Torax, the children of
Ilendrick the Mohawk Emperor, and detain them
in case of his opposition; a plan by which ho
proposes to serve his brother, who is in love with
Monelia, as well as his father. Chekitan joyfully
acquiesces and departs, leaving Philip to deliver a
soliloquy from which it appears that he hates his
brother. After a rhapsody on love he says : —

Onee have I felt its poison in my heart,

When this same Chekitan a captive led

The fair Donauta from the Illinois;

I saw, admir'd, and lov'd the charming maid,

And as a favor ask'd her from his hands,

But lie refus'd and sold her for a slave.

My love is dead, but my resentment lives,

And now's my time to let the flame break forth,

For while I pay this ancient debt of vengeance,

I'll serve my country, and advance myself.

He loves Monelia — Ilendrick must be won —

Monelia and her brother both must bleed —

This is my vengeance on her lover's head —

Then I'll affirm, 'twas done by Englishmen — -

And to gain credit both with friends and foes,

I'll wound myself, aud say that I reeeiv'd it

By striving to assist them in the combat.

This will rouse Hendrick's wrath, and arm his

troops
To blood and vengeance on the common foe.
And further still my profit may extend ;
My brother's rage will lead him into danger,
And, he cut off, the Empire's all my own.
Thus am I flx'd ; my scheme of goodness laid,
And I'll effect it, tho' thro' blood I wade,
To desperate wounds apply a desperate cure,
And to tall structures lay foundations sure ;
To fame and empire hence my course I bend,
And every step I take shall thither tend.

This closes the second act. In the third we
have a scene between Ponteach and his ghostly
counsellors. Both interpret the dream as an
admonition to go to war, and the monarch and
Indian depart, leaving the priest solus to take the
audience into his confidence, which he does most
unlilusliingly, in a curious passage, valuable as
showing the perverted views entertained of the
Roman Catholic missionaries by the English.

Next follows an Indian pow-wow, with long
speeches, winding up with

THE WAR SONG.

To the Tune of " Over the Bills and Far Away,"
Sung by Tenesco, the Head Warrior. They all
join in the Chorus, and dance while (hat is singing,
in a circle round hint. ; and during the Chorus the
Music plays.

Where-e'er the sun displays his light,
Or moon is seen to shine by night,
Where-e'er the noisy rivers flow,
Or trees and grass and herbage grow.

Chorus.
Be't known that we this war begia
With proud insulting Englishmen;
The hatchet we have lifted high

[holding up their hatchets]
And them we'll conquer or we'll die.

Chorus.

172

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

The edge is keen, the blade is bright,
Nothing saves them but their flight;
And then like heroes we'll pursue,
Over the hills aud valleys through.

Chorus.

They'll like frighted women quake,
When they behold a hissing snake;
Or like timorous deer away,
And leave both goods and arms a prey.

Chorus.

Pain'd with hunger, cold, or heat,

In haste they'll from our land retreat ;

While we'll employ our scalping knives —

[Drawing and flourishing tlicir scalping
knives']
Take off their sculls and spare their lives.

Chorus.

Or in their country they'll complain,
Nor ever dare return again ;
Or if they should they'll rue the day,
Ar.d curse the guide that shew'd the way.

Chorus.

If fortune smiles, we'll not be long
Ere we return with dance and song,
But ah ! if we should chance to die,
Dear wives and children do not cry.

Chorus.

Our friends will ease your grief and woe,
By double vengeance on the foe ;
Will kill, and scalp, and shed their blood,
Where-e'er they find them thro' the wood.

Chorus.

No pointing foe shall ever say
'Twas there the vanquish'd Indian lay.
Or boasting to his friends, relate
The tale of our unhappy fate.

Chorus.

Let us with courage then away
To hunt and seize the frighted prey;
Nor think of children, friend, or wife,
While there's an Englishman alive.

Chorus.

In heat and cold, thro' wet and dry,

Will we pursue, and they shall fly

To seas which they a refuge think

And there in wretched crowds they'll sink.

Chorus. Exeunt ontnes singi?ig.

Philip removes Chekitan from Monelia, by
placing him at the head of troops. The piece
proceeds in accordance with his programme, but
justice is first wreaked on Honnyman, the trader,
■who is despatched on the stage.

In Act V., Scene 1, Monelia and Torax are also
killed, and Philip discovered wounded. His story
is believed, until Torax revives sufficiently to
declare the truth, after he has left the scene. On
his return he is confronted by the injured Cheki-
tan. They fight. Philip is slain, and Chekitan
kills himself. Tenesco bears the news of this
extirpation of his offspring to Ponteach, and is
soon followed by tidings of the complete rout of
the Indian forces. The monarch closes the piece
with the following lines, which possess force and
beauty : —

Ye fertile fields and glad'ning streams adieu,

Ye fountains that have quench'd my scorching

thirst,
Ye shades that hid the sunbeams from my head,

Ye groves and hills that yielded me the chace,
Ye flow'ry meads, and banks, and bending trees,
And thou, proud earth, made drunk with royal

blood,
I am no more your owner and your king.
But witness for me to your new base lords,
That my unconquer'd mind defies them still ;
And though I fly, 'tis on the wings of hope.
Yes, I will hence where there's no British foe,
And wait a respite from this storm of woe ;
Beget more sons, fresh troops collect and arm,
And other schemes of future greatness form ;
Britons may boast, the gods may have their will,
Ponteach I am, and shali be Ponteach still.

JOSEPH GALLOWAY,

A loyalist refugee of the Revolution, was in
the early part of his career an advocate to the
popular interest in Pennsylvania. He was born
in Maryland about 1730, came early to Philadel-
phia, took part with Franklin in opposition to
the proprietary interest, and was a member of the
first Continental Congress of 1774. His plan, in
that body, of a " a proposed union between Great
Britain and the colonies," was published in his
pamphlet, A Candid Examination of the Mutual
Claims of Great Britain and the Colonies. Two
years later he joined the British troops in New
Jersey, and entered with them when they took pos-
session of Philadelphia. He was employed under
Sir William Howe, and when the city was freed
from the enemy went to New York, and shortly
left for England, where he was examined before
the House .of Commons on American affairs.
He published there a number of pamphlets : Let-
ters to a Nobleman on the Conduct of the War in
the Middle Colonies; A Letter to Lord Hoice on
his Naval Conduct ; A Reply to the Observations
of General Howe, with Thoughts on the Conse-
quences of American Independence; Reflections
on the American Rebellion* At the close of his
life he occupied himself with the study of the
Prophecies. Two volumes, the fruits of these
studies, were published in London in 1802 and '3,
entitled, Brief Commentaries on such Farts of the
Revelation and other Prophecies as immediately
refer to the Present Times ; in which the several
Allegorical Types and Expressions of these Pro-
phecies are translated into their literal meaning
and applied to their appropriate events : contain-
ing a Summary of the Revelation, the Prophetic
Histories of the Beast of the Bottomless Pit ; the
Beast of the Earth ; the Grand Confederacy or
Babylon the Great ; the Man of Sin ; the Little
Horn and Antichrist; and The Prop/hetic and
Anticipated History of the Church of Rome;
written and published six hundred years before
the Rise of that Church. In which the Prophetic
Figures and Allegories are literally explained ;
and her Tricks,, Frauds, Blasphemies, and Dread-
ful Persecutions of the Church of Christ are fore-
told and described. Prefaced by an Address, de-
dicatory, expostnlatory, and critical.t He resided
in England till his death in 1803.

John Adams describes him, in his Diarv, as
"sensible and learned, but a cold speaker."!
Franklin had confidence in his patriotism, and left

* Sparks' s Franklin, vii. 277; Sabine's American Loyalists,
IC8.
t Works, ii. 390. t Watts's Bib. Brit.

HECTOR ST. JOHN CREVECCEUE.

173

in his charge in America a valuable collection of
his letter-books and papers, which were lost.
His defection, from his well known talents, was
severely commented upon by the friends of the
Revolution. Stiles, in his manuscript Diary, of
the date of October 1, 1775, says: — "Mr. Gallo-
way has also fallen from a great height into con-
tempt and infamy ; but he never was entirely
confided in as a thorough son of liberty." Trum-
bull, too, tells the story in his M'Fingal, how
" Galloway began by being a flaming patriot ; but
being disgusted at his own want of influence, and
the greater popularity of others, he turned Tory,
wrote against the measures of Congress, and ab-
sconded. Just before his escape, a trunk was put
on -board a vessel in the Delaware, to be delivered
to Joseph Galloway, Esquire. On opening it, he
found it contained only, as Shakespeare says —

A halter gratis, and leaye to hang himself;

while M'Fingal himself, in his royalist zeal, de-
claims against the popular party, in his left-hand-
ed maimer —

Did you not, in as vile and shallow way.
Fright our poor Philadelpliian, Galloway,
Your Congress, when the loyal ribald
Belied, berated, and beseribbled ?
What ropes and halters did you send,
Terrific emblems of his end,
Till, least he'd hang in more than effigy,
Fled in a fog the trembling refugee ?*

Francis Hopkinson addressed Galloway a wi-
thering letter in 1778, when he was " in the seat
of power in the city of Philadelphia," and the re-
negade Cunningham was made keeper of the pro-
vost prison, which was published at the time,
and is preserved in his works : — " The temporary
reward of iniquity," was his language, " you nov£
hold will soon shrink from your grasp ; and the
favor of him on whom you now depend will cease,
when your capacity to render the necessary ser-
vices shall cease. This you know, and the reflec-
tion must even now throw a gloom of horror
over your enjoyments, which the glittering tinsel
of your new superintendency cannot illumine.
Look back, and all is guilt — look forward, and
all is dread. "When the history of the present
times shall be recorded, the names of Galloway
and Cunningham will not be omitted ; and pos-
terity will wonder at the extreme obduracy of
which the human heart is capable, and at the un-
measurablo distance between a traitor and a
Washington."

hectoe st..johx ceeveccetjb.
Tue volume entitled Letters from an .American
Farmer, describing certain provincial Situations,
Manners and Customs, and conveying some idea
of the state of the People of North America:
written to a Friend in England, by J. Hector St.
John, a farmer in Pennsylvania, is one of the
most pleasing and agreeable of the books respect-
ing the early impressions made by the simple hie
of America upon intelligent and sensitive Euro-
peans.! With the exception of the Memoirs of an

* Trumbull's McFingall, canto iii.

t We have given the title of this book from the copy print-
e 1 by Mathew Carey, in 1794.

American Lady, by Mrs. Grant of Laggan, and
some passages in the travels of Brissot de War-
ville, we know of no more appreciative pictures
of the idyllic life of America in the period just
preceding the Revolution. It is all sentiment
and susceptibility in the French school of St.
Pierre and Chateaubriand, looking at homely
American life in the Claude Lorraine glass of
fanciful enthusiasm. The author prides him-
self upon his good feeling ; and instead of hiding
it in his breast, as an Englishman would do,
brings it out into the sunlight to enjoy it, and
writes it down to see how it will look upon pa-
per. The book is written in the character of a
plain country farmer, who, having entertained
an accomplished scholar from the old world at
his farm, is invited by this European friend, on
his return home, to communicate to him his
observations and reflections on life in America.
The farmer, who is a man of acuteness and sensi-
bility, is encouraged to undertake the task by the
advice of the clergyman at Yale, who tells him,
that letter-writing, like preaching, will soon be-
come eas}r from practice; and by the good sense
and kindliness of his Quaker wife, who is ever
ready to cheer him, in her kind, homely way, in
whatever he undertakes. There is an introduc-
tion, a chapter on " the situation, feelings, and
pleasures of an American farmer;" a discussion
of the question, " What is an American ?" a long
account of Nantucket and its manners, and of
Martha's Vineyard ; a description of Charleston,
and a notice of the naturalist Bartram.

The author of these letters, the contents of
which we have thus indicated, was a French
gentleman, born in 1731, of a noble family, at
Caen in Normandy, who, at the age of sixteen,
was sent by his parents to England to complete
his education, and passed six years there, acquir-
ing, among other things, a passion for emigration
to the British colonies. In 1754 he embarked for
America, and settled upon a farm near New York.
He married the daughter of a merchant. In the
war, his lands were overrun by the British troops.
Affairs of importance, in 1780, requiring his pre-
sence in England, he obtained permission of the
British commander to cross the lines, and embark
with one of his sons from New York. A French
fleet on the coast detained the vessel in the har-
bor, when he was arrested as a spy in the place,
and kept in prison for three months. He was re-
leased on examination, and sailed for Dublin,
where he arrived in December. He travelled to
London, and finally reached the paternal roof, in
France, April 2, 1781, after an absence of twenty-
seven years. He became a member of the Agri-
cultural Society of Caen, and introduced the cul-
tivation of the potato into his district. His
Letters from an American Farmer were first
written in English : a language which had become
more familiar to him than his native tongue, and
published in 1782, in London.* He translated

* Ilis Letters from an American Fanner first made their
appearance in London, in 1762. Written thus originally in
English, they were translated by the author into French on
his return to his native countrv, where thev appeared, with
some additions, in 1787, with the' title. Lettreed'tm Cultivateur

Americain, adressees d Win. ,S' :?. Esq., depute Vanned

1770, jmqu'd 1786. Par Jl St. John lie Crevecmnr. Tra-
duites de V Anglais. There was au earlier French edition iu
1784.

174

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

them into French, in which language two editions
appeared in Paris, in 1784 and 1787. His glow-
ing and extravagant pictures of American life
induced many families to emigrate to the borders
of the Ohio, where they suffered the extremities
of famine and fever. His friend, the author Lizay-
Marnesia, who trusted to the representations of
the Scioto company, was one of the disappointed.

In 1783 Crevecceur returned to New York as
French consul. He found his house burnt, his
wife dead, and his children in the hands of a
)C stranger, Mr. Flower, a merchant of Boston, who
had been led to take charge of them by the kind-
ness Crevecceur had shown to prisoners abroad.
He was honored by Washington, and retained his
office till 1703, when he returned to his native
country, residing first at a coimtry-seat near
Eouen, and afterwards at Sarcelles. He em-
ployed his leisure in writing a book of his travels
and observations in America, which lie published
in three volumes, in Paris, in 1801 : Voyage dans
la Saute Pensylvanie et dans VEtat de New York,
par un Membre Adoptif de la Nation Oneida.
Traduit ct publii; par Vauteur des Lettres d'un
Cultirateur Americain. The translation is an
affectation, purporting to be from a manuscript
cast ashore from a wreck on the Elbe. The work
is dedicated to "Washington in highly complimen-
tary terms, recapitulating the public events of his
life, of which the translator had been an observer.
It contains much interesting matter relating to
the Indians, the internal improvements of the
country, agriculture, and a curious conversation
on the first peopling and the antiquities of the
country with Franklin, whom St. John accompa-
nied in 1787 to Lancaster, when the sage laid the
foundation-stone of his German college at that
place.

Crevecceur died at Sarcelles, November, 1813,
leaving behind him a high reputation for worth
and agreeable personal qualities.

An interesting notice of this writer is published
in one of the notes to Darlington's biographical
sketch of John Bartram, from the recollections of
Samuel Breck, of Philadelphia, who saw St. John
in Paris in 1787. He describes him as in the
midst of Parisian society, where the man and his
book were much admired. He made the return
voyage home with him, and gives this record of
his impressions of his character, which is fully in
unison with the manner of his book : — " St. John
was by nature, by education, and by his writings
a philanthropist; a man of serene temper, and
pure benevolence. The milk of human kindness
i circulated in every vein. Of manners unas-
suming; prompt to serve, slow to censure ; intelli-
gent, beloved, and highly worthy of the esteem
and respect he everywhere received. His society
on shipboard was a treasure."*

Hazlitt was a great admirer of the freshness
and enthusiasm of the American Farmer. In one
of the charming letters addressed to him, Charles
Lamb interpolates an exclamation, doubtless from
Bridget Elia, " O tell Hazlitt not to forget to send
me the American Farmer. I dare say it is not
so good as he fancies; but a book's a book."t

* Memorials of Bartram and Marshall, by William Darling-
ton, p. 44.
t Charles Lamb to Hazlitt, November 18, 1S05.

Hazlitt kept the Farmer in memory, for in 1829,
in an article on American Literature in the Edin-
burgh Review, he bestows all his warmth upon
him. " The American Farmer's Letters," says he,
" give us a tolerable idea how American scenery
and manners may be treated with a lively poetic
interest. The pictures are sometimes highly co-
lored, but they are vivid and strikingly charac-
teristic. He gives not only the objects hut the
feelings of a new country. He describes himself
as placing his little boy in a chair, screwed to the
plough which he guides (to inhale the scent of the
fresh furrows), while his wife sits knitting under
a tree at one end of the field. He recounts a bat-
tle between two snakes with a Homeric gravity
and exuberance of style. He paints the dazzling,
almost invisible flutter of the humming-bird's
wing : Mr. Moore's airiest verse is not more light
and evanescent. His account of the manners of
the Nantucket people, their frank simplicity, and
festive rejoicings after the perils and hardships of
the whale-fishing, is a true and heartfelt picture.

The most interesting part of the author's

work is that where he describes the first indica-
tions of the breaking-out of the American war —
the distant murmur of the tempest — the threat-
ened inroad of the Indians, like an inundation,
on the peaceful back-settlements : his complaints
and his auguries are fearful."* Hazlitt did not
know the author to be a Frenchman, or he would
have accounted, in his brilliant wa}', for the con-
stitutional vivacity of the book, and its peculiar
treatment of an American subject.

AMERICAN FARMER'S PLEASURES.

The instant I enter on my own land, the bright .
idea of property, of exclusive right, of independence,
exalts my mind. Precious soil, I say to myself, by
what singular custom of law is it, that thou wast
made to constitute the riches of the freeholder?
What should we American farmers be, without the
distinct possession of that soil ? It feeds, it clothes
us; from it we draw even a great exuberancy, our
best meat, our richest drink, the very honey of our
bees comes from this privileged spot. No wonder
we should thus cherish its possession, no wonder that
so many Europeans who have never been able to
say, that such portion of land was theirs, cross the
Atlantic to realize that happiness. This formerly
rude soil has been converted by my father into a
pleasant farm, and in return it has established all our
rights ; on it is founded our rank, our freedom, our
power as citizens, our importance as inhabitants of
such a district. These images, I must confess, I
always behold with pleasure, and extend them as
far as my imagination can reach : for this is what
may be called the true and the only philosophy of
an American farmer. Pray eft> not laugh in thus
seeing an artless countryman tracing himself through
the simple modifications of his life; remember
that you have required it; therefore with can-
dour, though with diffidence, I endeavour to follow
the thread of my feelings; but I cannot tell you all.
Often when I plough my low ground, I place my
little boy on a chair, which screws to the beam of
the plough — it3 motion, and that of the horses
please him ; he is perfectly happy, and begins to
chat. As I lean over the handle, various are the
thoughts which crowd into my mind. I am now
doing for him, I say, what my father formerly did

* Edinburgh Eeview, October, 1S29, p. ISO,

HECTOR ST. JOHN" CREVECffiUR.

175

for me ; may God enable him to live, that lie may
perform the same operations, for the same purposes,
when I am worn out and old! I relieve his mother
of some trouble, while I have him with me; the
odoriferous furrow exhilarates his spirits, and seems
to do the child a great deal of good, for he looks
more blooming since I have adopted that practice ;
can more pleasure, more dignity be added to that
primary occupation? The father thus ploughing
with his child, and to feed his family, is inferior
only to the emperor of China, ploughing as au ex-
ample to his kingdom.

SONG AND rNSTINCT.

The pleasure I receive from the warblings of the
birds in the spring, is superior to my poor descrip-
tion, as the continual succession of their tuneful
notes, is for ever new to me. I generally rise from
bed about that indistinct interval, which, properly
speaking, is neither night nor day ; for this is the
moment of the most universal vocal choir. Who can
listen unmoved, to the sweet love tales of our robins,
told from tree to tree? or to the shrill eat birds?
The sublime accents of the thrush from on high,
always retard my steps, that I may listen to the de-
licious music. The variegated appearances of the
dew drops, as they hang to the different objects,
must present, even to a clownish imagination, the
most voluptuous ideas. The astouishing art which
all birds display in the construction of their nests, ill
provided as we may suppose them with proper tools,
their neatness, their convenience, always make me
ashamed of the slovenliness of our houses ; their love
to their dame, their incessant careful attention, and
the peculiar songs they address to her, while slie
tediously incubates their eggs, remind me of my
duty, could I ever forget it. Their affection to their
helpless little ones, is a lively precept; and in short,
the whole economy of what we proudly call the
brute creation, is admirable in every circumstance;
and vain man, though adorned with the additional
gift of reason, might learn from the perfection of in-
stinct, how to regulate the follies, and how to temper
the errors which this second gift often makes him
commit. This is a subject, on which I have often
bestowed the most serious thoughts; I have often
blushed within myself, and been greatly astonished,
when I have compared the unerring path they all
follow, all just, all proper, all wise, up to the neces-
sary degree of perfection, with the coarse, the im-
perfect systems of men, not merely as governors and
kings, but as masters, as husbands, as fathers, as citi-
zens. But this is a sanctuary in which an ignorant
farmer must not presume to enter.

THE niTM.MING BIRD.

One anecdote I must. relate, the circumstances of
which are as true as they are singular. One of my
constant walks, when I am at leisure, is in my low-
lands, where I have the pleasure of seeing my cattle,
horses, and colts. Exuberant grass replenishes all
my fieids, the best representative of our wealth; in
the middle of that track, I have cut a ditch eight
feet wide, the banks of which nature adorns every
spring with the wild salendine, and other flowering
weeds, which, on these luxuriant grounds, shoot up
to a great height. Over this ditch I have erected a
bridge, capable of bearing a loaded waggon; on
each side 1 carefully sow every year some grains of
hemp, which rise to the height of fifteen feet, so
stiong and so full of limbs, as to resemble young
trees: I once ascended one of them four feet above
the ground. These produce natural arbours, ren-
dered often still more compact by the assistance of

an annual creeping plant, which we call a vine, that
never fails to entwine itself among their branches,
and always produces a very desirable shade. From
this simple grove I have amused myself an hundred
times in observing the great number of humming
birds with which our country abounds: the wild
blossoms every where attract the attention of these
birds, which, like bees, subsist by suction. From
this retreat I distinctly watch them in all their va-
rious attitudes; but their flight is so rapid that you
cannot distinguish the motion of their wings. On
i this little bird, nature lias profusely lavished her
most splendid colours; the most perfect azure, the
most beautiful gold, the most dazzling rod, are for
ever in contrast, and help to embellish the plumes
of his majestic head. The richest pallet of the most
luxuriant painter, could never invent any thing to
be compared to the variegated tints with which this
insect bird is arrayed. Its bill is as long and as
sharp as a coarse sewing needle; like the bee, nature
has taught it to find out, in the calix of flowers and
blossoms, those mellifluous particles that serve it for
sufficient food ; and yet it seems to leave them un-
touched, undeprived of anything that our eyes can
possibly distinguish. When it feeds, it appears as
if immoveable, though continually on the wing ; and
sometimes, from what motives I know not, it will
tear and lacerate flowers into a hundred pieces:
for, strange to tell, they are the most irascible of the
feathered tribe. Where do passions find room in so
diminutive a body ? They often fight with the fury
of lions, until one of the combatants falls a sacrifice
and dies. When fatigued, it has often perched
within a few feet of me, and on such favourable op-
portunities I have surveyed it with the most minute
attention. Its little eyes appear like diamonds, re-
flecting light on every side: most elegantly finished
in all parts, it is a miniature work of our great pa-
rent; who seems to have formed it the smallest,
and at the same time the most beautiful of the
winged species.

A .TOURNEY WITH FRANKLIN.*

In the year 1787 I accompanied the venerable
Franklin, at that time Governor of Pennsylvania, on
a journey to Lancaster, where he had been invited
to lay the corner-stone of a college, which he had
founded there for the Germans. In the evening of
the day of the ceremony, we were talking of the dif
ferent nations which inhabit the continent, of their
aversion to agriculture, etc., when one of the princi-
pal inhabitants of the city said to him :

" Governor, where do you think these nations
came from ? Do you consider them aborigines ?
Have you heard of the ancient fortifications and
tombs which have been recently discovered in the
west ? "

"Those who inhabit the two Floridas," he replied,
" and lower Louisiana, say, that they came from the
mountains of Mexico. I "should be inclined to be-
lieve it. If we may judge of the Esquimaux of the
coasts of Labrador (the most savage men known) by
the fairness of their complexion, the color of their
eyes, and their enormous beards, they are originally
from the north of Europe, whence they came at a
very remote period. As to the other nations of this
continent, it seems difficult to imagine from what
stock they can be descended. To assign them an
Asiatic and Tartar origin, to assert that they crossed
Behring Straits, and spread themselves over this
continent, shocks all our notions of probability.
How, indeed, can we conceive that men almost

* Translated from St. John's Voyage dans la Haute Pennsyl-
vania, ch. ii.

176

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE,

naked, armed with bows and arrows, could have
undertaken a journey of a thousand leagues through
thick forests or impenetrable marshes, accompanied
by their wives and children, with no means of sub-
sistence, save what they derived from hunting?
"What could have been the motives of such an emi-
gration ? If it were the severe cold of their own
country, why should they have advanced to Hud-
son's Bay and Lower Canada? Why have they not
stopped on their way at the beautiful plains on the
banks of the Missouri, the Minnesota, the Mississippi,
or the Illinois? But it will be said, they did settle
there, and those with whom we are acquainted are
but the surplus population of these ancient emigra-
tions. If it were so, we should discover some analogy
between their languages: and it is ascertained be-
yond a doubt, that the languages of the Nadouassees
and Padoukas no more resemble the Chippewa, the
Mohawk, or the Abenaki, than they do the jargon
of Kamschatka.

" On the other hand," he continued, " how can
we suppose them to be the aborigines of a region
like this, which produces scarcely any fruits or
plants on which the primitive man could have sub-
sisted until he had learned to make a bow and ar-
row, harpoon a fish, and kindle a fire ? How could
these first families have resisted the inclemency of
the seasons, the stings of insects, the attacks of
carnivorous animals? The warm climates, there-
fore, and those that abound in natural fruits, must
have been the cradle of the human race ; it was
from the bosom of these favored regions that the
exuberant portion of the early communities gradu-
ally spread over the rest of the world. Whence
came the nations which inhabit this continent, those
we meet with in New Zealand, New Holland, and
the islands of the Pacific ? WThy have the people of
the old world been civilized for thousands of ages,
while those of the new still remain plunged in igno-
rance and barbarism? Has this hemisphere more
recently emerged from the bosom of the waters?
These questions, and a thousand others we might
ask, will ever be to us, frail beings, like a vast
desert where the wandering eye sees not the small-
est bush on which it may repose.

"This planet is very old," he continued. " Like the
works of Homer and Hesiod, who can say through.
how many editions it has passed in the immensity
of ages? The rent continents, the straits, the gulfs,
the islands, the shallows of the ocean, are but vast
fragments on which, as on the planks of some
wrecked vessel, the men of former generations who
escaped these commotions, have produced new po-
pulations. Time, so precious to us, the creatures of
a moment, is nothing to nature. Who can tell us
when the earth will again experience these fatal
catastrophes, to which, it appears to me, to be as
much exposed in its annual revolutions, as are the
vessels which cross the seas to be dashed in pieces
on a sunken rock? The near approach or contact
of one of those globes whose elliptical and mys-
terious courses are perhaps the agents of our desti-
nies, some variation in its annual or diurnal rotation,
in the inclination of its axis or the equilibrium of the
seas, might change its climate, and render it long
uninhabitable.

"As to your third question," continued the gover-
nor, " I will give you some reflections which occurred
to me on reading the papers lately presented to our
philosophical society by Generals Varnum and Par-
sons, and Captains John Hart and Serjeant, in rela-
tion to the entrenched camps and other indications
of an ancient population, of whom tradition has
transmitted no account to our indigenous popula-
tion. In travelling through the parts of this state

beyond the Alleghanies, we often find on the high
ground near the rivers remains of parapets and
ditches covered with lofty trees. Almost the whole
of the peninsula of Muskinghum is occupied by a
vast fortified camp. It is composed of three square
inclosures ; the central one, which is the largest,
has a communication with the former bed of the
river, whose waters appear to have retreated nearly
three hundred feet. These inclosures are formed by
ditches and parapets of earth, in which no cut stones
or brick have been found. ■ The centre is occupied
by conical elevations of different diameters and
heights. Each of these inclosures appears to have
had a cemetery. As a proof of the high antiquity
of these works, we are assured, as an undisputed
fact, that the bones are converted into calcareous
matter, and that the vegetable soil with which these
fortifications are covered, and which has been formed
merely by the falling off of the leaves and of the
fragments of trees, is almost as thick as in the places
around about them. Two other camps have been
likewise discovered in the neighbourhood of Lexing-
ton. The area of the first is six acres, that of the
second, three. The fragments of earthenware which
have been found in digging are of a composition un-
known to our Indians.

" On Paint Creek, a branch of the Scioto, there
has been found a series of these fortified inclosures,
extending as far as the Ohio, and even south of that
river. Similar works have been discovered in the
two Miamis, at a distance of more than twenty
miles, and likewise on Big Grave Creek. These
last are only a series of elevated redoubts on the
banks of these rivers at unequal distances apart.
Those which have been found on Big Black Creek,
and at Byo Pierre, in the neighborhood of the Mis-
sissippi, appear to have been embankments intended
to protect the inhabitants from the inundations of
the river.

"At a distance of five hundred leagues from the
sea, on the eastern shore of Lake Peppin (which is
only an extension of the Mississippi), Carver found
considerable remains of entrenchments made, like
the former, of earth, and covered with high woods.
Tne barrows lately discovered in Kentucky and
elsewhere, are cones of different diameters and
heights; they are covered with a thick layer of
earth, and resemble, although smaller, those which
are still seen in Asia and some parts of Europe.
The first row of bodies lies upon flat stones, with
which the whole of the bottom is paved: these are
covered over with new layers, serving as beds for
other bodies placed like the former, and so on to the
top. As in the fortifications on the Muskinghum, we
meet with no signs of mortar, and no traces of the
hammer. The new state of Tennessee is full of these
tombs, and several caves have also been discovered
there in which bones have been found.

" In the neighborhood of several Cherokee vil-
lages, in Iveowe, Steccoe, Sinica, <fce., there have
been found terraces, pyramids, or artificial hills, of
great height, whose origin was unknown to the
inhabitants whom the Cherokees drove out at the
time of their invasion, nearly two centuries ago.
The same artificial heights, the same proofs of the
residence and power of ancient nations, are also
found in the two Floridas, on the banks of the
Oakmulgee, at Taensa, on the Alabama, &c.

"At what period, by what people, were these
works constructed ? What degree of civilization
had this people reached ? Were they acquainted
with the use of iron ? What has become of them I
Can we conceive that nations sufficiently powerful
to have raised such considerable fortifications, and
who buried their dead with such religious care, can

THE LIBRARY COMPANY OF PHILADELPHIA

177

have been destroyed and replaced by the ignorant
and barbarous hordes we see about us at the present
day? Could the calamities occasioned by a long
state of war have effaced the last traces of their
civilization and brought them back to the primitive
condition of hunters? Are our Indians the descend-
ants of that ancient people ?

"Such are the doubts and conjectures which arise
in our minds on contemplating the traces of the pas-
sage and existence of the nations which inhabited
the regions of the west ; traces which are not suf-
ficient to guide us in the vagueness of the past.
Although neither arms nor instruments of iron have
yet been discovered, how can we conceive that they
could dig such deep ditches, or raise such large
masses of earth, without the aid of that metal ?
This ancient people must have had chiefs, and been
subject to laws ; for without the bonds of subordina-
tion, how could they have collected and kept to-
gether so great a number of workmen ? They must
have been acquainted with agriculture, since the
products of the chase would never have sufficed to
support them. The extent of these camps also
proves that the number of the troops destined to
defend these works, and that of the families to
which, in moments of danger, they afforded an
asylum, was immense. The cemeteries prove that
they sojourned there a long time. This people must
therefore have been much further advanced in civil-
ization than our Indians.

" When the population of the United States shall
have spread over every part of that vast and beauti-
ful region, our posterity, aided by new discoveries,
may then perhaps form more satisfactory conjec-
tures. What a field for reflection ! A new conti-
nent, which, at some unknown period, appears to
have been inhabited by agricultural and warlike
nations ! Were it not for my advanced age, I would
myself cross the mountains to examine those old
military works. Perhaps a careful and minute
inspection would give rise to conjectures which
now elude all the combinations of the mind."

THE LIBEAEY COMPANY OF PHILADELPHIA.
The first record of this institution is as follows :

Tiie minutes of me, Joseph Breintnall, Secretary
to the Directors of the Library Company of Phila-
delphia, with such of the minutes of the same direc-
tors as they order me to make, begun on the 8th
day of November, 1731. By virtue of the deed or
instrument of the said company, dated the first day
of July last.

The said instrument being completed by fifty sub-
scriptions, I subscribed my name to the following
summons or notice which Benjamin Franklin sent
by a messenger, viz. :

" To Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Hopkinson, Wil-
liam Parsons, Philip Syng, jun., Thomas Godfrey,
Anthony Nicholas, Thomas Cadwalader, John
Jones, jun., Robert Grace, and Isaac Penington.
Gentlemen, — The subscription to the library being
completed, you the directors appointed in the in-
strument, are desired to meet this evening at 5
o'clock, at the house of Nicholas Scull, to take bond
of the treasurer for the faithful performance of his
trust, and to consider of and appoint a proper time I
for the payment of the money subscribed, and other
matters relating to the said library.

Jos. Breintnall, See'y.
Philad., 8th Nov., 1731."

William Coleman was at this meeting elected
treasurer, and signed a bond with sureties for the
lull performance of his duties. The price of

vol. i. — 12

shares was fixed at forty shillings each, and ten
were at onee disposed of, but some difficulty was
experienced in collecting the amounts. At a
meeting on the 29th of March, 1732, it was
determined to proceed to the purchase of books,
and Thomas Godfrey having reported that James
Logan had expressed a willingness to give advice
as to their selection, it was ordered that Thomas
Godfrey wait on Mr. Logan, " a gentleman of
universal learning and the best judge of books in
these parts," and accept his offer.

The list was made out and intrusted to Thomas
Hopkinson, who was about sailing for England,
with a draft on London in his favor of £15 ster-
ling. Charles Broekden (the uncle of Broekden
Brown) having executed the original constitution
without charge, was presented with a share in
the association. Breintnall was excused from
the payment of annual dues for six years in con-
sideration of his services as secretary ; Syng, two
years, for engraving the seal of the company, and
Franklin two years, for printing notices to delin-
quent subscribers.

The books arrived in October, 1732, with the
addition of a donation of " Sir Isaac Newton's
Philosophy" and " Philip Miller's Gardener's
Dictionary," from Peter Oollmsoi*. They were
deposited in " Robert Grace's chamber, at his
house in Jones Alley :" Louis Timothee, the occu-
pant of the house, was appointed librarian,
and the collection opened on Wednesdays from 2
to 3 p.m. and on Saturdays from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m.
to subscribers, who were to be allowed to take
books out, while " any civil gentleman" was to be
permitted to examine the books on the premises.
Both privileges were extended to Mr. Logan,
though not a member of the Company.

In December, 1732, Dr. Franklin prepared and
printed a catalogue without charge. On tlie22d
of February, 1733, the full number of subscribers
originally contemplated, was filled up by the ad-
dition of the fiftieth, Joseph Growden. The first
American donor was William Rawle, who pre-
sented, on the 12th of March, 1733, a set of the
works of Edmund Spenser, in six volumes. On
the fifteenth of May following, an address was
drawn up and presented to Thomas Penn, the
son of William, proprietor of the colony, soliciting
his aid, which was responded to by the gift of
several articles, and in 1737, by the promise of a
lot of ground for a building. In May, 1738, Penn
presented an air-pump, accompanied by a com-
plimentary letter, which commences —

"Gentlemen, — It always gives me pleasure
whes I think of the Library Company of Phila-
delphia, as they were the first that encouraged
knowledge and learning in the province of Penn-
sylvania."

The praise is not ill deserved, a:, at the time of
its foundation, there was not even a good book-
store accessible nearer than Boston.

In 1738, the institution received a donation of
£58 6s. 8d. from Dr. Walter Sydserfe, of Antigua.

On the 7th of April, 17-40, the number of mem-
bers having in the meanwhile increased to
seventy-four, the library was removed " to the
upper room of the westernmost office of the
State House," by permission of the Assembly.

In 1762, the lot of ground promised in 1737 by
the Penn family, was conveyed to the institution.

178

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

It was situated in Chestnut, near Ninth street,
and for several years yielded a small revenue.

Franklin at various times served in the direc-
tion, which also includes the names of Charles
Thomson, John Dickinson, Francis Hopkinson,
and others of high reputation. In 1767, "a
woman's hand, taken from an Egyptian mummy,
in good preservation," from Benjamin West, was
brought home by the librarian, Francis Hopkin-
son, for the museum. This collection received for
some time donations of similar curious trifles,
which were until recently exhibited in the rooms.
In 1768 the price of a share was raised to £10,
and on the thirteenth of March, the Union Li-
brary Company united with the institution, the
books and library house in Third Street, in which
they had been deposited, being included in the
transfer. In 1771 the Association Library Com-
pany and the Amicable Company were also incor-
porated with the institution. The collections
thus acquired seem to have been of small value.

In 1773 the books were removed to the second
floor of Carpenters' Hall, which was rented for
the purpose, and the library was for the first time
opened daily, from two to seven p.m. The libra-
rian's salary was fixed at £60. Large additions
were made to the cabinet of coins about the
same time.

On the assemblage of Congress, in 1774, the
free use of its library was tendered to its members.
The war retarded the progress of the company.
In 1777 the room' was occupied as a hospital.
Iu the same year the company received a hand-
some bequest of books by the will of James
Logan.

In 1784 the Library Company united with the
American Philosophical Society in a petition for
lots of ground on the State-house square, on which
to erect buildings for their separate accommoda-
tion, which were to correspond in appearance,
anil face on Fifth and Sixth Streets. So action
was taken on the petition, but the Philosophical
Society finally succeeded in obtaining a grant on
Fifth Street, the locality proposed for the Library
Company. Subsequent endeavors, in which Dr.
Franklin, as President of the Philosophical So-
ciety, took a prominent j>art, were made to unite
the two institutions under the same roof, but
without success.

The Philadelphia Library.

In 1789 the long contemplated intention of
erecting a suitable building for the library was
carried into effect, and the corner-stone of the
edifice on Fifth Street, facing the state-house

square, laid. It bears an inscription prepared by
Franklin, with the exception of the portions
relating to himself, which were added by the com-
mittee having the matter in charge.

Be it remembered,

In honour of the Philadelphia youth,

(then chiefly artificers)

that in MDCCXXXI,

they cheerfully

at the instance of Benjamin Franklin,

one of their number,

instituted the Philadelphia Library,

■which, though small at first,

is become highly valuable, and extensively useful,

and which the walls of this edifice

are now destined to contain and preserve ;

the first stone of whose foundation

was here placed
the thirty -first day of August, 17S9.

The building, from the design of Dr. William
Thornton, who received a share as his compensa-
tion, was completed, and the books removed and
arranged by the close of the year 1790. The
libraiw was then opened daily from one o'clock to
sunset, and the librarian's salary fixed at £100.
William Bingham, a wealthy and liberal citizen,
having heard that the directors intended to place a
statue of Franklin on a niche in the front of the
building, volunteered to present such a work to
the institution. A bust and full length drawing
of the original were sent to Italy for the guidance
of the artist by whom the statue, which still graces
the niche, was executed. During the construction
of the edifice, a number of apprentices engaged
on the work were allowed by their masters to
give an amount of labor equivalent to the. pur-
chase money of a share, and thus constitute them-
selves members, an incident creditable to all
concerned.

In January, 1791, the free use of the library
was tendered to the President and Congress of
the United States, and in the following year an
addition made to the building, for the accommo-
dation of the Loganian library, a collection of
which we have already given an account.*

In the same year, the manuscripts of John
Fitch, relating to the steam-engine, were deposited
in the library, with a condition that they should
remain unopened until the year 1828.

In 1788 a portion of the collections of Pierre
du Simiiicre was purchased, on his decease.

John Adams, writing from Philadelphia, Au-
gust 14, 1776, says-
There is a gentleman here of French extraction,
whose name is Du Simitiere. a painter by profession,
whose designs are very ingenious, and his drawings
well executed. He has been applied to for his
advice. I waited on him yesterday, and saw his
sketches. For the medal he proposes, Liberty, with
her spear and pilens, leaning on General Washing-
ton. The British fleet in Boston harbor with all
their sterns towards the town, the American troops
marching in. For the seal, he proposes, The arms
of the several nations from whence America has
been peopled, as English, Scotch, Irish, Dutch, Ger-
man, &c, each in a shield. On one side of them,
Liberty with her pileus, on the other a rifler in his
uniform, with his rifle gun in one hand, and his

* Ante, p. 7S.

GEORGE "WASHINGTON;

179

tomahawk in the other. This dress and these troops
with this kind of armor being peculiar to America,
unless the dress was known to the Romans. -Dr.
Franklin showed me yesterday a book, containing
an account of the dresses of all the Roman soldiers,
one of which appeared exactly like it. This M. du
Simitiere is a very curious man. He has begun a
collection of materials for a history of this revolu-
tion. He begins with the first advices of the tea
ships. He cuts out of the newspapers every scrap
of intelligence, and every piece of speculation, and
pastes it upon clean paper, arranging them under
the head of that State to which they belong, and in-
tends to bind them up in volumes. He has a list of
every speculation and pamphlet concerning indepen-
dence, and another of those concerning forms of go-
vernment.

These scraps and pamphlets form a valuable,
though by no means complete, collection of the
fugitive literature of the period.

A collection of " Thirteen portraits of Ameri-
can legislators, patriots, and soldiers, who dis-
tinguished themselves in rendering
their country independent, viz. Ge-
neral Washington, Gen. Baron de
Steuben, Silas Deane, Gen. Reed,
Gov. Morris, Gen. Gates, John Jay,
"W. II. Drayton, Henry Laurens,
Charles Thomson, S. Huntingdon,
J. Dickenson, Gen. Arnold. Drawn
from the life by Du Simitiere,
painter and member of the Philosophical So-
ciety in Philadelphia, and engraved by Mr. B.
Reading," was published in London in 1783.
The engravings are good, and that of Washing-
ton (a profile) is quite different from any others
in circulation.

In 1793, the price of shares was changed to
their present value, $40.

In 1799, a valuable collection of manuscripts
relating to the history of Ireland, and including
the original Correspondence of James I. with the
Privy Council of that country, from 1603 to 1615
inclusive, was presented by William Cox, and in
1804 the institution was still further enriched by
the bequest of one thousand pounds from John
Bleakly, and of a very valuable collection of rare
and curious books, including many richly illus-
trated volumes, from the Rev. Samuel Preston, a
friend of Benjamin West, to whose suggestion
the library is indebted for the gift.

Another bequest was received in 1828, by the
will of William Mackenzie, of five hundred rare
and valuable volume;.*

The library now numbers 65,000 volumes. It
has, until recently, been for several years under
the care of John Jay Smith, as librarian, a gen-
tleman to whom the public are indebted for the
publication of a large and valuable collection of
fac-similes of manuscript documents and speci-
mens of early and revolutionary newspaper and
oilier curiosities.! On Mr. Smith's resignation, in

* Notes for a History of the Library Company of Philadel-
phia, by J. Jay Smith.

t Mr. Smith was for many years the editor of Waldie's Circu-
lating: Library. He is the author of

A Summer's Jaunt across tlie Water. By J. Jay Smith,
Philadelphia, 2 vols. 12mo. 1S46.

Michaux's Sylva of North American Trees. Edited, with
notes, by J. Jay Smith. 8 vols. 8vo. Philadelphia, 1851.

1851, he was succeeded by his son Lloyd P. Smith,
Esq., under whose care an additional volume to
the catalogue, published in two volumes 8vo., in
1835, has been prepared, which will render still
more accessible to the public, the rare pamphlets
and fugitive literature relating to the history of
the country, scattered through the collection.

GEORGE WASHINGTON.

The name of "Washington may be introduced in a
collection of American literature, rather to grace
it than do honor to him. In any strict sense of
the word, Washington was not a literary man ;
he never exercised his-mindin composition on any
of those topics abstracted from common life, or its
affairs, which demanded either art or invention.
He prepared no book of elaborate industry. —
Yet he was always scrupulously attentive to the
claims of literature ; elegant and punctilious in the
acknowledgment of compliments from authors
and learned institutions ; and had formed a style

which is so peculiar that it may be recognised by
its own ear-mark. He was for nearly the whole
of his life actively employed, a considerable part
of the time in the field, where the pen was oftener
in his hand than the sword. Though he produc-
ed no compositions which may be dignified with
the title of " works," the collection of his " writ-
ings," in the selection of Mr. Sparks, fills twelve
large octavo volumes. As embraced in the folio
series of Mr. Force, the number will be greatly
increased. In the chronicle of American litera-
ture, if it were only for their historical material,
some mention of these papers would be necessary.
In 1754, Washington appeared as an author in
the publication at Williamsburg, Virginia, and in
London, of hfs Journal of his proceeding " to and
from the French of the Ohio," a brief tract, which
he hastily wrote from the rough minutes taken on
his expedition.

The Letters of Washington early attracted at-
tention, and several publications of them were
made in 1777, in 1795 and" '6, in the perusal of
which the reader should be on his guard to note
the authenticity, a number of these compositions
being spurious. Washington's respect for his
character led him to prepare a careful list of the
fabrications, which he transmitted in a letter to
Timothy Pickering, then Secretary of State* The
publication by Mr. Sparks of Washington's writ-
ings, a selection from the correspondence, ad-
dresses, messages, and other papers, was corn-

American Historical and Literary Curiosities. By J. F.
Watson and J. Jav Smith. 2 vols. 4to. Philadelphia, 1S4T,
and New York, 1861.

Celebrated Trials of all Countries. 1 vol. Svo. Philadelphia,
1S85.

Letters of Dr. Richard Hill and his descendants. Edited by
J. Jav Smith. Privately printed. Svo. Philadelphia, 1S54.

* To Timothy Pickering, Philadelphia, March 3, 17D7.—
Sparks's Washington, xi. 192.

180

CYCLOPEDIA CF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

pleted by him in 1837; and is the most accessible
work in which the mind of "Washington can be
properly studied, as he himself placed its decisions
upon record.

As a question not long since arose with respect
to Mr. Sparks's editorship, which enlisted several
distinguished combatants, it may not be amiss to
present a brief account of it.

The chief publications on the matter consist of,
first, a paper by " Friar Lubin," in the Evening
Post, Feb. 12, 1851, then the notice in the ap-
pendix of Lord Mahon's sixth volume of his His-
tory of England,* which drew forth from Mr.
Sparks, A Reply to the Strictures of Lord Mahon
and others, on the mode of Editing the Writing!, of
Washington, 1852 ; next a letter of Lord Mahon
in 1852, addressed to Mr. Sparks, being A Re-
joinder to his Reply to the Strictures, &c, to
which Mr. Sparks replied in his Letter to Lord
Mahon, being an Ansioer to his Letter addressed
to the Editor of Washington's Writings, dated
Camb. Oct. 25, 1852. Here the matter rested,
till Mr. William B. Reed published a Reprint of
the Original Letters from Washington to Jo-
seph Reed, duriny the American Recolution, re-
ferred to in the Pamphlets of Lord Mahon and
Mr. Sparks. Phil. Nov. 16, 1852. Tomeetthis
Mr. Sparks published a third pamphlet, Re-
marks on a " Reprint," &c, dated April 20, 1853.
The controversy may thus be summed up. Mr.
Sparks was charged, on the evidences of discre-
pancies seen in a comparison of his reprint of
Washington's Letters to Joseph Peed, with the
Letters as published in the Reed Memoirs by W.
B. Peed, with omissions and alterations affect-
ing the integrity of the correspondence. The
alterations were charged to be for the purpose of
putting a better appearance on the war, and
amending the style of the writer. To the
omissions, Mr. Sparks replied that he never in-
tended to publish the whole, as he had declared
in his preface ; and to this it was answered that
if so, the omissions should have been noted where
they occur by asterisks and foot-notes. Mr.
Sparks justified himself from the imputation of a
prejudiced or local purpose in the omissions.
Several of the alleged alterations turned out to be
defects, not in Mr. Sparks's edition, but in Mr.
Reed's ; and others arose from discrepancies be-
tween the letters • sent by Washington, and his
copy of them in the letter books. A few cases
of alteration of Washington's phraseology Mr.
Sparks acknowledged, but stated his sense of their
slight importance, and his good intentions in the
matter. It may be said that all parties were
taught something by the discussion; for errors
of party judgment and of fact were corrected on
all sides.

There have been several distinct publications
of parts of Washington's Writings, which afford
matter of literary interest. Of these, the most
important is in reference to the Farewell Address
to the People of the United States of America.

The history of this composition would seem to
refer its authorship in various proportions .to
Madison, Hamilton, and Washington himself.

* History of England from the Peace of Utrecht. Vol. vi.
.Appendix. 1851.

The first was charged by the President in 1702,
on the approaching conclusion of his term of of-
fice, to assist him in the preparation of a farewell
paper, for which he furnished the chief points.
Madison put them briefly into shape ; but Wash-
ington accepting a second term of office, the ad-
dress was not called for at that time. On his sub-
sequent retirement, his intimacy with Madison, in
the course of political affairs, had somewhat abat-
ed, and Hamilton was consulted in the prepara-
tion of the required paper. Washington wrote
his views, and committed them to Hamilton, who,
instead of making amendments on the copy, wrote
out a new paper, including Washington's original
draft, which lie sent to the President, who then
appears to have re-written it and submitted it again
for revision to Hamilton and Jay. The copy en-
tirely in Washington's own handwriting, marked
with corrections and erasures, which was sent to
the printer, Claypoole, and from which the ad-
dress was first published, is now in the possession
of Mr. James Lenox of New York, by whom it
has been printed with a careful marking of all the
erasures.* It is considered by Mr. Lenox that
this is Washington's second draft of the paper,
altered by him after he had received the Llaniil-
ton and Jay revision.

It is impossible to determine accurately the
respective shares of Hamilton and Washington in
the language. The idea of the whole was pro-
jected by Washington, and so far as can be learnt,
the parts were mostly contrived and put into
shape by him. The deliberation and intelligent
counsel bestowed upon the work, proved by the
Madison, Hamilton, and Jay letters on the subject,
so far from detracting from Washington's own
labors, add further value to them. He had a pub-
lic duty to perform, and he took pains to discharge
it in the most effective manner. The pride of
literary authorship sinks before such considera-
tions. Yet the temper of this paper is eminently
Washingtonian. It is unlike any composition of
Madison or Hamilton, in a certain considerate
moral tone which distinguished all Washington's
writings. It is stamped by the position, the
character, and the very turns of phrase of the
great man who gave it to his country.

A publication representing a large part of
Washington's cares and pleasures, was published in
London in 1800, and "dedicated to the American
People," the Letters from his Excellency George
Washington, President of the United States of
America, to Sir John Sinclair, Bart., M.P., on
Agricultural and other Interesting Tojrics. En-
graced from the original letters, so as to be an
exact facsimile of the hand-writing of that cele-
brated character.^

A folio volume of "Monuments of Washing-
ton's Patriotism," was published in 1811, in a
third edition, containing among other things a fac-
simile of Washington's Account of his expenses
during the Revolutionary War in his own hand-
writing— the only payment he would consent to

* Claypoole preserved the manuscript with care, and it passed
into the hands of his administrators, by whom it was sold at
auction in Philadelphia, in 1S50. Mr. Lenox becoming the pur-
chaser for the sum of $2300. llr.Lenox's reprint was limited to
229 copies in folio and quarto, for private circulation.

+ These letters have been reprinted in ftc-simile by Franklin
Knight, Washington, 1S44.

JOHN DICKINSON.

181

receive from the country. There are sixty -six
pages of the accounts.*

The handwriting of Washington, large, liberal,
and flowing, might be accepted as proof of the
honesty of the tigures.t Indeed this same hand-
writing is a capital index of the style of all the
letters, and may help us to what we would say of
its characteristics. It is open, manly, and uni-
form, with nothing minced, affected, or con-
tracted. It has neither the precise nor the slovenly
style which scholars variously fall into ; but a cer-
tain grandeur of the countenance of the man
seems to look through it. Second to its main
quality of truthfulness, saying no more than the
writer was ready to abide by, is its amenity and
considerate courtesy. Washington had, at dif-
ferent times, many unpleasant truths to tell ; but
he could always convey them in the language of
a gentleman. He wrote like a man of large and
clear views. His position, which was on an emi-
nence, obliterated minor niceties and shades which
might have given a charm to his writings in other
walks of life. This should always be remembered,
that Washington lived in the eye of the public,
and thought, spoke, and wrote under the respon-
sibility of the empire. Let. his writings be com-
pared with those of other rulers and commanders,
he will be found to hold his rank nobly, as well
intellectually as politically. There will be found,
too, a variety in his treatment of different topics
and occasions. He can compliment a friend in
playful happy terms on his marriage, as well as
thunder his demands for a proper attention to the
interests of the country at the doors of Congress.
Never vulgar, he frequently uses colloquial phra-
ses with effect, and, unsuspected of being a poet,
is fond of figurative expressions. In fine, a critical
examination of the writings of Washington will
■ show that the man here, as in other lights, will
suffer nothing by a minute inspection.

JOHN DICKINSON,

The author of The Farmer's Letters, the spirited
and accurate vindication of the rights of the Colo-
nies against the pretensions of the British Parlia-
ment, and the writer of several of the most
important appeals of the Old Continental Con-
gress, was a native of Maryland, where he was
born in 1732. His parents shortly removed to
Delaware. , He studied law at Philadelphia and
prosecuted his studies at the temple in London.
On his return to Philadelphia he practised at the
bar. In 176± he was one of the members for the
county in the House of Assembly of the Province,
when he defended in a speech the privileges of
the state against the meditated innovations of the
Government. It is characterized by the force of
argument, weight and moderation of expression
by which his style was always afterwards recog-
nised. His Address to the Committee of Corre-
spondence in Barbadoes who had censured the
opposition of the northern colonies to the Stamp
Act, published at Philadelphia, in 1766, is an elo-
quent and dignified defence of the proceedings of

* It was published at Washington, " by the Trustees of Wash-
ington's Manual Labour School and Male Orphan Asylum, for
the benefit of that institution."

+ It is endorsed, by the same hand, "Accounts, G.Washington
with the United States, commencing June, 1775, and ending
June, 1783. Comprehending a space of eight years."

the colonies. In this he borrows an illustration
since grown familiar in Congressional speaking.
" Let any person," says he, " consider the speeches
lately made in parliament, and the resolutions

said to be made there, notwithstanding the con-
vulsions occasioned through the British Empire,
by the opposition of their colonies to the stamp
act, and he may easily judge what would have
been their situation, in case they had bent down
and humbly taken up the burden prepared for
them. When the Exclusion bill was depending
in the House of Commons, Col. Titus made this
short speech — ' Mr. Speaker, I hear a lion roaring
in the lobby. Shall we secure the door, and keep
him there : or shall we let him in, to try if we
can turn him out again V " *

The Farmers Letters to the Inhabitants of the
British Colonies were printed at Philadelphia in
1767. Dr. Franklin caused them to be reprinted
in London the next year, with a Preface, which
he wrote, inviting the attention of Great Britain
to the dispassionate consideration of American
" prejudices and errors," if these were such, and
hoping the publication of the Letters would
" draw forth a satisfactory answer, if they can be
answered." In 1769, the book was published at
Paris in French. It consists of twelve letters,

* Pictorial Hist, of England. Bk. viii. ch. 1, p. 733. Notes
and Queries, vii. SIS. The last application of this convenient
parliamentary proverb, was in the Nebraska question in tho
debate of 1864 The versification of the story by the Ecv. Mr.
Bramston, in his adaptation of Horace's Art of Poetry, supplies
the usual form of quotation.

With art and modesty vour part maintain;

And talk like Col'nel Titus, not like Lane.

The trading knight with rants his speech begins,

Sun, moon," and stars, and dragons, saints, and kings:

But Titus said, with his uncommon sense,

When the Exclusion bill was in suspense,

I hear a lion in the lobby roar ;

Say, Mr. Speaker, shall we shut the door

And keep him there, or shall we let him in

To try if we can turn him out again ?

Dodsloy's Collection of Poerm, i. 2C5.

182

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

written in the character of " a farmer, settled,
after a variety of fortunes, near the banks of the
river Delaware, in the province of Pennsylvania,"
"who claims for himself a liberal education and
experience of " the busy scenes of life," but who
has become convinced " that a man may be as
happy without bustle as with it." He spends his
time mostly in his library, and has the friendship
of " two or three gentlemen of abilities and
learning," and having been " taught by his
honored parents to love humanity and liberty,"
proposes to try the political abuses of the times
by these sacred tests. There is very little of the
farmer about the work, unless the cool tempered
style and honest patriotic purpose is a charac-
teristic of the fields. The skill and force of the
argument betray the trained constitutional lawyer.
The immediate topics handled are the act for
suspending the legislation of New York, the act
for granting the duties on paper, &c, the pro-
priety of peaceful but effective resistance to the
oppression of Parliament, the established preroga-
tive of the colonies invaded by Grenville, the
grievance of an additional tax for the support of
the conquests in America from the French, the
necessity in free states of " perpetual jealousy
respecting liberty" and guardianship of the con-
stitutional rights of the British subject and colo-
nist. There is little ornament or decoration in
these writings ; the style is simple, and, above all,
sincere. You feel, as you read, that you are pay-
ing attention to the language of an honest gentle-
man. England should have taken Franklin's
warning of the circulation of these letters, and
should not have neglected the force of their
mingled courtesy and opposition. "With the
firmest they breathe the fondest mind.* The
attachment to England is constantly expressed,
and was the feeling of the high-minded race of
American gentlemen who became the "Whigs of
the Revolution. " We have," he writes, " a
generous, sensible, and humane nation, to whom
we may apply. Let us behave like dutiful chil-
dren, who have received unmerited blows from a
beloved parent. Let us complain to our parent ;
but let our complaints speak at the same time the
language of affliction and veneration."

Thus early in the field in defence of American
constitutional liberty was John" Dickinson. In
1774, he published his Essay on the Constitu-
tional Power of Great Britain oxer the Colonies
in America, prepared as a portion of the Instruc-
tions of the Committee for the Province of
Pennsylvania to their Representatives in Assem-
bly. Elected to the Congre=s of 1774, he wrote the
Address to the Ink bitants of Quebec, the First Pe-
tition to the King, the Perforation to the Amies, the
Second PeHtiou to the King, and the Address to the
Several States. These are papers of strong and in-
nate eloquence. The Declaration of Congress of
July 6, 1775, read to the soldiery, contains the me-
morable sentences, adopted from the draft by Tho-
mas Jefferson, ''Our cause is just. Our Union is per-
fect. Ourinternal resources are great, and, if neces-
sary, foreign assistance is undoubtedly attainable.
"We gratefully acknowledge, as signal instances of
the Divine favor towards us, that his providence

* The poet Crabbe's noble peasant, Isaac Ashford, "who,
With the firmest bad the fondest mind.

would not permit us to be called into this severe
controversy, until we were grown up to our pre-
sent strength, had been previously exercised in
warlike operations, and possessed the means of
defending ourselves. "With hearts fortified by
these animating reflections, we most solemnly,
before God and the world, declare, that exerting
the utmost energy of those powers, which our
beneficent Creator hath graciously bestowed upon
us, the arms we have been compelled by our
enemies to assume, we will, in defiance of every
hazard, with unabating firmness and perseverance,
employ for the preservation of our liberties ;
being with one mind resolved to die freemen
rather than to live slaves." Its concluding ap-
peal was: — "In our own native land, and in
defence of the freedom that is our birthright, and
which we ever enjoyed till the late violation of
it — for the protection of our property, acquired
solely by the honest industry of our forefathers
and ourselves, against violence actually offered,
we have taken up arms. "We shall lay them
down when hostilities shall cease on the part of
the aggressors, and all danger of their being
renewed shall be removed, and not before. With
an humble confidence in the mercies of the
supreme and impartial Judge and Ruler of the
universe, we most devoutly implore his divine
goodness to protect us happily through this great
conflict, to dispose our adversaries to reconcilia-
tion on reasonable terms, and thereby to relieve
the empire from the calamities of civil war."
When these sentences were read in camp to
General Putnam's division, the soldiers " shouted
in three huzzas, a loud Amen!'"* They express
Dickinson's feeling on the commencement of hos-
tilities, and the principles which governed him
when of all the members of the Congress of 1776
he only did not sign the Declaration of Independ-
ence. He was ready /or war as a means of
redress, but he would not, at that time, shut the
door against reconciliation. His course was ap-
preciated by his noble compatriots in Congress,
who knew the man and his services ; with the
people it cost him two years of retirement from
the public service. Though claiming the privi-
lege of thinking for himself, he was not one of
those impracticable statesmen who refuse to act
with a constitutional majority. He proved his
devotion to the cause of liberty by immediately
taking arms in an advance to Elizabethtown.
Retiring to Delaware, he was employed in- 1777
in the military defence of that State, whose
Assembly returned him to Congress in 1709, when
he wrote the Address to the States of the 26th
May. He succeeded Cfesar Rodney as President
of Delaware in 1781. The next year he filled the
same office in Pennsylvania, which he held till
Franklin succeeded him in 1785. His Letters of
Fabius on the Federal Constitution, in 178S.
were an appeal to the people in support of the
provisions of that proposed instrument, marked
by his habitual energy and precision. In the
reprint of this work he compares passages of it
with the views and expressions of Paine's Fights
of Han. as published three years after his origi-
nal. Another series of letters, with the same
signature, in 1797, On the Present Situation oj

* Humphrey's Life of Putiiain.

PELEG FOLGER.

183

PuUio Afftirs, present a review of the relations
of the country with France, in which there is a
spirit of calm historical investigation, with much
statesmanlike philosophical discussion, as in his
remarks on the connexion of self-love and virtue,
applied to the imputed, interested motives of
the French government in its American alliances.
At this time lie was living at Wilmington, in
Delaware, where he superintended the collection
of his political writings in 1801.* He passed his
remaining years in retirement, in the enjoyment
of his literary acquisitions, and the society of his
friends, who were attracted by his conversation
and manners, dying Feb. 14, 180S, at the age of
seventy-six.

He had married in 1770 Mary Norris, of Fair
Hill, Philadelphia county. John Adams, in 1774,
dined with him at this seat, and notices " the
beautiful prospect of the city, the river, and the
country, fine gardens, and a very grand library.
The most of his books were collected by Mr.
Norris, once speaker of the House here, father of
Mrs. Dickinson. Mr. Dickinson (lie adds) is a
very modest man, and very ingenious as well as
agreeable." Again he describes him in committee
duty of Congress " very modest, delicate, and
timid," though he forfeited the character with
Adams by what the latter thought an attempt to
bully him out of his ardent pursuit of indepen-
dence. Personally, Adams describes him at that
time as subject to hectic complaints. " lie is a
shadow ; tall, but slender as a reed ; pale as ashes;
one would think at first sight that he could not
live a mouth; yet, upon a more attentive inspec-
tion, he looks as if the springs of life were strong
enough to last many years."t

PELEG FOLGER.
Peleg Folgf.r, a Quaker, was born at Nantucket
in the year 1734. His boyhood was passed on a
farm, where he remained until twenty-one, when
he changed from land to sea, and for several years
was engaged in the cod and whale fisheries. He
kept a journal of his voyages, which is written in
a much more scholarly manner than could be ex-
pected from his limited education. He introduced
into it a number of poetical compositions, one of
which is quoted in Macy's History of Nantucket.

DOMINU.M COLLAtJDAMUS.

Praise ye the Lord, 0 celebrate his fame,
Praise the eternal God, that dwells above ;

His power will forever be the same,
The same for ever his eternal love.

Long as that, glitt'ring lamp of heaven, the sun,
Long as the moon or twinkling stars appear,

Long as they all their annual courses run,
And make the circle of the sliding year ;

So long our gracious God will have the care
To save his tender children from all harms;

Wherever danger is, he will be near,
And, underneath, his everlasting arms.

* The Political Writing of John Dickinson. Esq.. late Presi-
dent of the State of Delaware, and of tli3 Commonwealth of
Pennsylvania. 2 vols. 8vo. Wilmington : Bonsai and Niles,
IS01.

t Adams's Diary. Works, ii. 800, 879, 401.

0 Lord, I pray, my feeble muse inspire,
That, while I touch upon a tender string,

1 may be filled, as with celestial fire,
And of thy great, deliverances sing.

My soul is lost, as in a wond'rous maze,
When I contemplate thine omnipotence,

That did the hills create, and mountains raise,
And spread the stars over the wide expanse.

Almighty God, thou didst create the light,
That swiftly through th' etherial regions flies ;

The sun to rule the day, the moon the night,
With stars adorning all the spangled skies.

Thou mad'st the world and all that is therein,
Men, beasts, and birds, and fishes of the sea:

Men still against thy holy law do sin,
Whilst all the rest thy holy voice obey.

Monsters that in the briny ocean dwell,

And winged troops that every way disperse,

They nil thy wonders speak, thy praises tell,
O thou great ruler of the universe.

Ye sailors, speak, that, plough the wat'ry main,
Where raging seas and foaming billows roar,

Praise ye the Lord, and in a lofty strain,
Sing of his wonder-working love and power.

Thou did'st, O Lord, create the mighty whale,
That wondrous monsterof a mighty length;

Vast is his head and body, vast his tail,

Beyond conception his unmeasured strength.

When he the surface of the sea hath broke,
Arising from the dark abyss below,

His breath appears a lofty stream of smoke,
The circling waves like glitt'ring banks of snow.

But, everlasting God, thou dost ordain,
That we poor feeble mortals should engage

(Ourselves, our wives and children to maintain,)
This dreadful monster with a martial rage.

And, though he furiously doth us assail,

Thou dost preserve us from all dangers free;
He cuts our boat in pieces with his tail,

And spills us all at once into the sea.
* w * * *
I twice into the dark abyss was cast,

Straining and struggling to retain my breath,
Thy waves and billows over me were past.

Thou didst, O Lord, deliver me from death.

Expecting every moment still to die,

Methought I never more should see the light:
Well nigh the gates of vast eternity

Environed nte with everlasting night.
Great was my anguish, earnest were my cries,

Above the power of human tongue to tell,
Thou hear'dst, OLord, my groans and bitter sighs,

Whilst I was lab'ring in the womb of hell.

Thou saved'st me from the dangers of the sea,
That I might bless thy name for ever more.

Thy love and power the same will ever be,
Thy mercy is an inexhausted store.

Oh, may I in thy boundless power confide,

And in thy glorious love for ever trust,
Whilst I in thy inferior world reside.

Till earth return to earth and dust to dust.
And when I am unbound from earthly clay,

Oh, may my soul then take her joyful flight
Into the realms of everlasting day,

To dwell in endless pleasure and delight,

At God's right hand, in undiminished joy,
In the blest tabernacles made above,

Glory and peace without the least alloy,
Uninterrupted, never dying love.

184

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

There angels and archangels still remain,
The saints in their superior regions dwell,

They praise their God, and in a heavenly strain,
The wond'rous works of great Jehovah telL

And when I shall this earthly ball forsake,
And leave behind me frail mortality,

Then may my soul her nimble journey take
Into the regions of eternity.

Then may my blessed soul ascend above,
To dwell with that angelic, heavenly choir,

And in eternal songs of praise and love,
Bless thee, my God, my King, for evermore.

Folger was a man of pure and exemplary life,
and on his retirement from the sea, much sought
after for counsel by his neighbors, lie died in
1789.

JOHN ADAMS.
TnE Adams family had been thoroughly Ameri-
canized by a residence of three generations in
Massachusetts, when one of the most ardent
heralds and active patriots of the Revolution,
John Adams, was born at Braintree, the original
settlement of his great-great-grandfather, the 19th
October, 1735. His lather, who was a plain
fanner and mechanic, was encouraged by his apt-
ness for books to give him a liberal education,
lie was instructed by Mr. Marsh, for Cambridge,
at which institution he took his degree in the
year 1755. At this period, his Diary, published
by his grandson, Charles Francis Adams, com-
mences. It is a curious picture of an active and
politic struggle with the world, full of manly and
ingenuous traits. He kept this diary for thirty
years. At its commencement* he is at Worcester,
at the age of twenty, fresh from his college educa-
tion, thinking of preaching, and, in the mean time,
teaching school after the good American fashion,
as a means of livelihood. He records his visits
to the best houses of the place, while he studies
character closely, and picks up knowledge where
it is always most forcibly taught — in the oral,
conversational lessons of men of weight and expe-
rience. He questioned points of the Calvinistic
creed, discussed freely the Puritan theology : — in
later life referred his Unitarian views to this
period, — and the result was an abandonment of
his proposed ministerial study for the law. His
independent chopping of logic with; the country
gentlemen and clergy wa3 good discipline for a
revolutionist, who was to cope in the court room
and the senate with British political authority .+

* It might be taken as an omen of the future undaunted
revolutionist, that the first entry in this Diary, of the date of
Nov. 18, 1755, relates to an earthquake in America: "We had
a very severe shock of an earthquake. It continued near four
minutes. I then was at my father's in Braintree, and awoke
out of my sleep in the midst of it. The house seemed to rock,
and reel, and crack, as if it would fall in ruins about us.
Chimnies were shattered by it, within one mile of my father's
house.1' This was a vibration of the great shock which
destroyed the city of Lisbon. Other "shocks'' of the political
and social world were to be entered upou Mr. Adams's Diary
and Correspondence.

t This is a marked trait of the Diary, and is commented
upon by a writer .in the North American Review (Oct. 1850),
as " an important feature in the intellectual character of the
times. Burke, in his admirable sketch of the love of freedom
In the American Colonies, alludes to their religious character,
and especially to the prevalence in the northern colonies of
dissent from the Established Church of the mother country.
The religious discussion and controversy between diiferent
parties among the dissidents from the Church, had escaped his

His legal development as a student in the office of
Samuel Putnam follows : stiff, formal, constrained
reading in the days before Blackstone, with many
soul and body conflicts, between flesh and spirit,
all set down in the Diary : — memorials of idle-
ness, pipe-smoking, gallanting ladies, reading
Ovid's Art of Love to Dr. Savil's wife, and form-
ing resolutions against all of them, in favor of
"Wood and Justinian, Locke and Bolingbroke.
His self-knowledge appears to have been accurate
and unflinching. It is sometimes displayed with
considerable naivete. We may smile at his model-
ling a professional manner upon that of his pre-
ceptor, where he says, " I learned with design to
imitate Putnam's sneer, his sly look, and his look
of contempt. This look may serve good ends in
life, may procure respect ;" and at his deliberate
studies to ingratiate himself with the deacons by
small conversational hypocrisies, and his inten-
tions as a thing " of no small importance, to set
the tongues of old and young men and women a
prating in one's favor." His analysis of his vanity
is frequent; a vanity which was the constant
spur to action, allied to constitutional boldness
and courage, balanced by ready suspicion of his
motives and bearing. In his youth Adams was
at once self-reliant and self-denying : a combina-
tion which guaranteed him success in the world.
This training and formation of the man, as his
own pen set it down from day to day, is a cheer-
ful, healthy picture of conscientious exertion.

In 1765, he printed in the Boston Gazette the
papers which form his Dissertation on the Canon
and Feudal Law — a spirited protest against the
ecclesiastical and political systems of Europe,
with a general incitement to cultivate earnestly
civil and religious liberty, and the principles of
.American freedom independently of England.

It is not necessary here to pursue his political
career, which began in 1770 with his election to
the legislature, after he had secured a position at
the bar. In 1774, he travelled to Philadelphia a
member of the first Continental Congress, and
has left us some spirited notices of its eminent
characters. He found time to write in the same
year his Nozanglvs ; a History of the Dispute
with America, from its Origin in 1754 to the
Present Time. This was a series of papers in the
Boston Gazette, written in reply to the articles
of " Massachusettensis," the productions of
Daniel Leonard, which were much thought of on
the Eoyalist side, and were reprinted by Riving-
ton. Adams's language is direct and energetic,
and meets Tory assumptions with at least equal
vehemence.*

penetration. It had no doubt contributed materially to
sharpen the public mind and strengthen tiie existing predispo-
sition of the people to canvass with aeuteness, aiike for tho
purposes of defence and opposition, important propositions on
which they were called upon to make up their minds. Neither
of the parties, arrayed against each other mainly under tho
influence of the preaching of Whitefield. allied itself with tho
government in the political struggle ; and the entiie force of
the excitement of intellect and controversial skill, produced
\ by these controversies, was, between the years 1TG1 and 1775,
■ turned upou the discussion of the light of Parliament to tax
America.1'

* These were republished at Boston in 1819. under the direc-
tion of Adams, as a reply to the claims of Wirt for the early
Virginia movement, in his Life of Patrick Henry, — with the
title, "Novanglus and Massachusetteusis, or Political Essays,
published in the years 1774 and 1775, on the principal points
1 of Controversy between Great Britain aud her Colonies. The

JOHN ADAMS.

185

John jJdawu

In the Congress of the next year, he had the
honor of first nominating George Washington as
Commander-in-Chief of the American forces.
Jefferson, with whom he was on the committee
for preparing the Declaration of Independence,
has celebrated his doughty championship of that
instrument. The letter which he wrote to his
wife when the act was resolved upon, has become
familiar to American ears as "household words."
Its anticipations have been fulfilled in every
syllable. " The second day of July, 177G," he
write-, "will lie the most memorable epocha in the
history of America. I am apt to believe that it
will be celebrated by succeeding generations as
the great anniversary Festival. It ought to be
commemorated, as the day of deliverance, by
solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It
ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade,
with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires,
and illuminations, from one end of this continent
to the other, from this time forward, for ever-
more."*

In 1777, Adams succeeded Silas Deane as Com-
missioner to France, where I*e was again sent in
1779, as minister, to negotiate peace. His pen
was employed in Holland in exhibiting the ideas
and resources of the United States. He arranged
the treaty of peace of 1783, at Paris, with Frank-
lin, Jay, and Laurens. In 1785, he became the
first minister to the court of England. In 1787,
in London, he published the first volume of his
Defence of the Constitutions of Government of
the United States of America, and the second and
third the year following. This work was pri-
marily suggested by a letter of Turgot, appended
to the "Observations on the Importance of the
American Revolution," by Dr. Richard Price, in

former by John Adams, late President of the United States ;
the latter by Jonathan Bewail, then Kind's Attorney-General
of the Province of Massachusetts Bay. To which are added a
number of Letters, lately written by President Adams to the
Hon. William Tudor." Adams then thought his opponent to
have been Mr. Sewall. — Works of Adams, iv. 4; Kennedy's
Life of Wirt. ii. 43.

* The letter in which this famous sentence of Adams occurs
was written to Mrs. Adams, and was dated Philadelphia, July
3. 1770. It refers to the second of July, the day of the resolu-
tion in Congress to make the declaration. The convenience of
referring the sentence to the fourth i5 obvious.

which comments are made on the Constitutions
of the States, the imitation of English usages
objected to, and the preference given to a single
authority of the nation or assembly, over a
balanced system of powers. The reading which
Adams brings to bear in the discussion of this
subject is very great, as he describes the conduct
of ancient and modern republics, and scrutinizes
the opinions of historians and political philoso-
phers. The Italian republics, in particular, occu-
py a large share of his attention. The work was
prepared in great haste, and with some defects of
form, which the editor of the Collected Works
has endeavored to amend by changing the original
style of letters to a friend into chapters, embracing
the whole or a distinct portion of a particular
topic, and by the arrangement of some dislocated
passages.

On his return to the United States, in 1788, he
was elected the first Vice-President of the United
States, an office which he held during both terms
of Wa-hingi oil's Presidency, to which he succeeded
in 1797. His Discourses on Davila ; a series of
papers on political history, were published in
1790, in the Gazette of the United States, at Phi-
ladelphia, as a sequel to the Defence. In 1812, he
wrote of this work : " This dull, heavy volume
still excites the wonder of its author, — first, that
he could find, amidst the constant scenes of busi-
ness and dissipation in which he was enveloped,
time to write it; secondly, that he had the
courage to oppose and publish his own opinions
to the universal opinion of America, and, indeed,
of all mankind." The opinions to which ho
alludes were supposed to be of an aristocratical
complexion. If Adams had a political system to
convey, it is to be regretted he did not adopt a ,
clearer and more methodical form of writing
about it.*

The year 1817 brought to Adams a great per-
sonal affliction, in the death of his wife, his pub-
lished correspondence with whom has created a
lasting interest with posterity, in the intellectual
and patriotic resources of his home. This lady,
whose maiden name was Abigail Smith, was the
daughter of a Congregational clergyman at Wey-
mouth. She was married in her twentieth year,
in 176L Often separated from her husband by
the employments of his public life', the corre-
spondence between the two was a matter of
necessity, and in her hands became a pleasure as
well. Her style is spirited: she shows herself
versed in public affairs; with a good taste in the
poetic reading of the times.f

The last years of Adams were passed in the re-
tirement of a scholar and a politician, at his farm
at Quincy, till the dramatic termination of his

* Fessenden (Christopher Caustic), in one of the notes to his
Democracy Unveiled, speaks of -the tricks of the shuffling
Jacobins of the present period (18U6), who mutilate, garble,
and misquote Adams's Defence of the American Constitution,
in order to show that the author of a treatise written in defence
of a republican form of government is at heart a monarchist."

+ The letters of Mrs. Adams, with a memoir by her L'rand-
son. C. F. Adams, were published in two volumes, in 1S40;
followed, the next year, by a similar publication of the letters
of John Adams, addressed to his wife. The latter are three
hundred in number. Thejournal and correspondence of Miss
Adams, the wife of Col. Smith, Secretary to the American
Legation at London, the daughter of John Adams, were pub-
lished in New York, in two vols. 1S41-2. Edited by her daugh-
ter, Mrs. J. P. DeWint,

186

CYCLOP.EDU OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

career, parallel -with the death-bed of Jefferson,
on the fiftieth anniversary of the Declaration
of Independence, in his ninety-first year. Still
in his ashes lived their wonted fires. On the
morning of his last day, he was asked for a senti-
ment for the public celebration. " Independence
for ever ! " exclaimed the dying patriot, in almost
his last words — words which carry back our
thoughts of John Adams over the period of his
political controversies — nearly a century — to the
early days of the Revolution, when Otis was " a
flame of fire," and the heart of the young Braintree
lawyer beat high as he rode on his way through
New England to the heroic old Continental Con-
gress.

PASSAGES FROM TITE DIARY.

Meditates Hie Choke of Ilercides.

Braintree, Jan. 8, 1759. — The other night the
choice of Hercules came into my mind, and left
impressions there which I hope will never be effaced,
nor long unheeded. I thought of writing a fable
on the same plan, but accommodated, by omitting
some circumstances and inserting others, to my own
case.

Let Virtue address me : " Which, dear youth, will
you prefer, a life of effeminacy, indolence, and
obscurity, or a life of industry, temperance, and
honor? Take my advice; rise and mount your
horse by the morning's dawn, and shake away,
amidst the great and beautiful scenes of nature that
appeal' at that time of the day, all the crudities that
are left in your stomach, and all the obstructions
that are left in your brains. Then return to your
studies, and bend your whole soul to the institutes
of the law and the reports of cases that have been
adjudged by the rules in the institutes ; let no
trifling diversion, or amusement, or company, decoy
you from your book ; that is, let no girl, no gun, no
cards, no flutes, no violins, no dress, no tobacco, no
laziness, decoy you from your books. (By the way,
laziness, languor, inattention, are my bane. I am
too lazy to rise early and make a fire ; and when
my fire is made, at ten o'clock my passion for know-
ledge, fame, fortune, for any good, is too languid to
make me apply with spirit to my books, and by
reason of my inattention my mind is liable to be
called off from law by a girl, a pipe, a poem, a love-
letter, a Spectator, a play, &c. <fec.) But keep your
law book or some point of law in your mind, at
least, six hours in a day. (I grow too minute and
lengthy.) Labor to get distinct ideas of law, right,
wrong, justice, equity; search for them in your own
mind, in Roman, Grecian, French, English treatises
of natural, civil, common, statute law; aim at an
exact knowledge of the nature, end, and means of
government ; compare the different forms of it with
each other, and each of them with their effects on
public and private happiness. Study Seneca, Cicero,
and all other good moral writers ; study Montes-
quieu, Bolingbioke, Vinnius, &c., and all other good
civil writers."

What am I doing ? shall I sleep away my whole
seventy years? no, by every thing I swear I will
renounce this contemplative, and betake myself to
an active, roving life by sea or land, or else I will
attempt some uncommon, unexpected enterprise in
law; let me lay the plan, and arouse spirit enough
to push boldly. I swear I will push myself into
business; I'll watch my opportunity to speak in
court, and will strike with surprise — surprise bench,
bar, jury, auditors and all. Activity, boldness, for-
wardness, will draw attention. I'll not lean with
my elbows on the table for ever, like Read, Swift,

Fitch, Skinner,, Story, <fcc. ; but I will not forego the
pleasure of ranging the woods, climbing cliffs, walk-
ing in fields, meadows, by rivers, lakes, &c, and
confine myself to a chamber for nothing. I'll have
some boon in return, exchange ; fame, fortune, or
something.

Here are two nights and one day and a half spent
in a softening, enervating, dissipating series of
hustling, prattling, poetry, love, courtship, marriage;
during all tins time I was seduced into the course of
unmanly pleasures that Vice describes to Hercules,
forgetful of the glorious promises of fame, immor-
tality, and a good conscience, which Virtue makes to
the same hero as rewards of a hardy, toilsome,
watchful life in the service of mankind. I could
reflect with more satisfaction on an equal space of
time spent in a painful research of the principles of
law, or a resolute attempt of the powers of elo-
quence. But where is my attention? 16 it fixed
from sunrise to midnight on Grecian, Roman, Gallic,
British law, history, virtue, eloquence ? I don't see
clearly the objects that I am after ; they are often
out of sight ; motes, atoms, feathers, are blown into
my eyes and blind me. Who can see distinctly the
course he is to take and the objects that he pursues,
when in the midst of a whirlwind of dust, straws,
atoms, pnd feathers ?

Let me make this remark. In Parson Wibird's
company something is to be learned of human
nature, human life, love, courtship, marriage. He
has spent much of his life from his youth in conver-
sation witli young and old persons of both sexes,
married and unmarried, and yet has his mind stuffed
with remarks and stories of human virtues and vices,
wisdom and folly, <fec. But his opinion, out of
poetry, love, courtship, marriage, politics, war,
beauty, grace, decency, <fcc, is not very valuable;
his soul is lost in a dronish effeminacy. I'd rather
be lost in a whirlwind of activity, study, business,
great and good designs of promoting the honor,
grandeur, wealth, happiness of mankind.

The Year 1765.

Braintree, December 18 of that date. — The year
1705 has been the most remarkable year of my
life. That enormous engine, fabricated by the
British Parliament, for battering down all the rights
and liberties of America, I mean the Stamp Act, lias
raised and spread through the whole continent a
spirit that will be recorded to our honor with all
future generations. In ever)' colony, from Georgia
to New Hampshire inclusively, the stamp distributers
and inspectors have been compelled by tiie uncon-
querable rage of the people to renounce their offices.
Such and so universal lias been the resentment of the
people, that every man who has dared to speak in
favor of the stamps or to soften the detestation in
which they are held, how great soever his abilities
and virtues had been esteemed before, or whatever
his fortune, connections, and influence had been, has
been seen to sink into universal contempt and
ignominy.

The people, even to the lowest ranks, have become
more attentive to their liberties, more inquisitive
about them, and more determined to defend them,
than they were ever before known or had occasion
to be ; innumerable have been the monuments of
wit, humor, sense, learning, spirit, patriotism, and
heroism, erected in the several colonies and provinces
in the course of this year. Our presses have groaned,
our pulpits have thundered, our legislatures have
resolved, our towns have voted ; the crown officers
have everywhere trembled, and all their little tools
and creatures been afraid to speak and ashamed to
be seen.

JOHN ADAMS.

187

This spirit, however, has not yet teen sufficient to
banish from persons in authority that timidity which
they have discovered from the beginning. The exe- j
cutive courts have not yet dared to adjudge the ;
Stamp Act void, nor to proceed with business as !
usual, though it should seem that necessity alone
would be sufficient to justify business at present,
though the act should be allowed to be obligatory.
The stamps are in the castle. Mr. Oliver has no
commission. The Governor has no authority to dis-
tribute or even to unpack the bales; the Act has
never been proclaimed nor read in the Province ;
yet the probate office is Bhut, the custom-house is
shut, the courts of justice are shut, and all business
seems at a stand. Yesterday and the day before,
the two last days of service for January Term, only
one man asked me for a writ, and he was soon
determined to waive his request. I have not drawn
a writ since the first of November.

How long we are to remain in this languid condi-
tion, this passive obedience to the Stamp Act, is not
certain. But such a pause cannot be lasting.
Debtors grow insolent; creditors grow angry; and
it is to be expected that the public offices will very
soon be forced open, unless such favorable accounts
should be received from England as to draw away
the fears of the great, or unless a greater dread of
the multitude should drive away the fear of censure
from Great Britain.

It is my opinion that by this inactivity we dis-
cover cowardice, and too much respect to the Act.
This rest appears to be, by implication at least, an
acknowledgment of the authority of Parliament to
tax us. And if this authority is once acknowledged
and established, the ruin of America will become
inevitable.

A very Pleasant Evening.

Boston, May 14, 1771. — A very pleasant evening.
Otis gave us an account of a present from Doctor
Cummiugs of Concord to Harvard College chapel,
of a brass branch of candlesticks, such as Isaac
Royal, Esq., gave to the Representatives' room, and
that it was sent to N. Hurd's to have an inscription
engraved on it. The inscription is —

In sacelli hujusee ornatum et splendorem
Phosphoron hoc munus, benigne contulit
Cuniicgs, armiger, medicos, Concordiensis.

Danforth. " The inscription was much faulted by
the wits at club, and as it was to be a durable thing
for the criticisms of strangers and of posterity, it was
thought that it ought to be altered." Doctor Cooper
mentioned an old proverb, that an ounce of mother
wit is worth a pound of clergy. Mr. Otis mentioned
another, which he said conveyed the same senti-
ment,— An ounce of prudence is worth a pound of
wit. This produced a dispute, and the sense .of the
company was, that the word wit in the second
proverb meant, the faculty of suddenly raising
pleasant pictures in the fancy ; but that the phrase,
mother wit, in the first proverb, meant natural
parts, and clergy-acquired learning — book learning.
Doctor Cooper quoted another proverb from his
Negro Glasgow, — A mouse can build an house with-
out trouble. And then told us another instance of
Glasgow's intellect, of which I had before thought
him entirely destitute. The Doctor was speaking
to Glasgow about Adam's Fall, and the introduction
of natural and moral evil into the world, and Glas-
gow said, they had in his country a different account
of this matter. The tradition was, that a dog and a
toad were to run a race, and if the dog reached the
goal first, the world was to continue innocent and
happy; but if the toad should outstrip the dog, the

world was to become sinful and miserable. Every
body thought there could be no danger; but in the
midst of the career the dog found a bone by the
way, and stopped to gnaw it ; and while he was
interrupted by his bone, the toad, constant in his
malevolence, hopped on, reached the mark, and
spoiled the world.

Col. Putnam's Indian Story.
Nov. 10, 1772. — Sunday. Heard Mr. Cutler of
Ipswich Hamlet; dined at Dr. Putnam's, with Colonel
Putnam andlady, and two young gentlemen, nephews

of the Doctor, and Colonel , and a Mrs. Seollay.

Colonel Putnam told a story of an Indian upon Con-
necticut River, who called at a tavern, in the fall of
the year, for a dram. The landlord asked him two
coppers for it. The next spring, happening at the
same house, he called for another, and had three
coppers to pay for it. " How is this, landlord <"
says he ; " last fall, you asked but two coppers for a
glass of rum, now you ask three." " Oh ! " says the
landlord, " it costs me a good deal to keep rum over
winter. It is as expensive to keep a hogshead of
rum over winter as a horse." " Ay ! " says the
Indian, "I can't see through that; he wont eat so
much hay : — Maybe he drink as much water." This
was sheer vjit, pure satire, and true humor. Humor,
wit and satire, in one very short repartee.

Madame Helvetius.

Paris, April 15, 1778. — Dined this day with
Madame Helvetius. One gentleman, one lady, Dr.
Franklin, his grandson, and myself, made the com-
pany ; an elegant dinner. Madame is a widow ; her
husband was a man of learning, and wrote several
books. She has erected a monument to her husband,
a model of which she has. It is herself weeping over
his tomb, with this inscription.

Toi dont l'Ame sublime et tendre,
A fait ma Gloire, et mon Bonheur,
Je V ai perdu : pivs de ta Ccndre,
Je viensjouir de ma l)uuleur.

Voltaire and Franklin.
Paris, April 29, 1778. — After dinner we went to
the Academy of Sciences, and heard M. d'Alembert,
as perpetual secretary, pronounce eulogies on several
of their members, lately deceased. Voltaire and
Franklin were both present, and there presently
arose a general cry that M. Voltaire and M. Franklin
should be introduced to each other. This was done,
and they bowed and spoke to each other. This was
no satisfaction ; there must be something more.
Neither of our philosophers seemed to divine what
was wished or expected ; they, however, took each
other by the hand. But this was not enough; the
clamor continued, until the explanation came out.
" II faut s'embrasser a la Francoise." The two aged
actors upon this great theatre of philosophy and
frivolity then embraced each other, by hugging one
another in their arms, and kissing each other's
cheeks, and then the tumult subsided. And the cry
immediately spread through the whole kingdom,
and, I suppose, over all Europe — " Qu'il etnit char-
maut de voir embrasser Solon et Sophocle ! "*

FROM TnE LETTERS.

John Adams to his Wife.
Philadelphia, May 22d, four o'clock in the morn-
ing. After a series of the severest and harshest

* This anecdote is told in the Life of Voltaire, by Condorc.t,
(Euvres Completes, vol. c. p. 161.— -Vote to Works.

183

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

■Breather that I ever felt in this climate, we are at
last blessed with a bright 6un end a soft air. The
weather here has been like our old easterly winds to
me and southerly winds to you. The charms of the
morning at this hour are irresistible. The streaks
of glory dawning in the east ; the freshness and
purity in the air, the bright blue of the sky, the
sweet warblings of a great variety of birds in-
termingling with the martial clarions of a hundred
cocks now within my hearing, all conspire to cheer
the spirits.

This kind of puerile description is a very pretty
employment for an old fellow whose brow is fur-
rowed with the cares of politics and war. I shall be
on horseback in a few minutes, and then I shall enjoy
the morning in more perfection. I spent the last
evening at the war office with General Arnold. He
has been basely slandered and libelled. The regu-
lars say, " he fought like Julius Caesar" [at Danbury].
I am wearied to death with the wrangles between
military officers, high and low. They quarrel like
cats and dogs. They worry one another like mas-
tiffs, scrambling for rank and pay, like apes for nuts.
I believe there is no one principle which predomi-
nates in human nature so much, in every stage of
life, from the cradle to the grave, in males and
females, old and young, black and white, rich and
poor, high and low, as this passion for superiority.
Every human being compares itself in its imagina-
tion with every other round about it, and will find
some superiority over every other, real or imagin-
ary, or it will die of grief and vexation. I have
seen it among boys and girls at school, among lads
at college, among practitioners at the bar, among the
clergy in their associations, among clubs of friends,
among the people in town meetings, among the mem-
bers of a House of Representatives, among the grave
councillors, on the more solemn bench of Justice,
and in that awfully august body, the Congress, and
on many of its committees, and among ladies every-
where ; but I never saw it operate with sueh keen-
ness, ferocity, and fury, as among military officers.
They will go terrible lengths in their emulation,
their envy and revenge, in consequence of it.

So much for philosophy. I hope my five or six
babes are all well. My duty to my mother and
your father, and love to sisters and brothers, aunts
and uncles. Pray how does your asparagus perform ?
&c. I would give three guineas for a barrel of your
cider. Not one drop is to be had here for gold, and
wine is not to be had under six or eight dollars
a gallon, and that very bad. I would give a guinea
for a barrel of your beer. The small beer here is
wretchedly bad. In short, I can get nothing that I
can drink, and I believe I shall be sick from this
cause alone. Rum at forty shillings a gallon, and
bad water will never do, in this hot climate, in sum-
mer, when acid liquors are necessary against putre-
faction.

The same to the same.

Passy, April 25th, 1778. My Deaeest Feiend, —
Monsieur Chaumont has just informed me of a vessel
bound to Boston, but I am reduced to such a mo-
ment of time, that I can only inform you that I am
well, and enclose a few lines from Johnny to let you
know that he is so. I have ordered the things you
desired to be sent you, but I will not yet say by
what conveyance, for fear of accidents.

If human nature could be made happy by any
thing that can please the eye, the ear, the taste, or
any other sense, or passion, or fancy, this country
would be the region for happiness. But if my
country were at peace, I should be happier among
the rocks and shades of Penn's hill; and would

cheerfully exchange all the elegance, magnificence,
and sublimity of Europe, for the simplicity of Brain-
tree and Weymouth.

To tell you the truth, I admire the ladies here.
Don't be jealous. They are handsome, and very
well educated. Their accomplishments are exceed-
ingly brilliant, and their knowledge of letters and
arts exceeds that of the English ladies, I believe.

Tell Mrs. Warren that I shall write her a letter, as
she desired, and let her know some of my reflections
in this country. My venerable colleague [Dr. Frank-
lin] enjoys a privilege here, that is much to be
envied. Being seventy years of age, the ladies not
only allow him to embrace them as often as he
pleases, but they are perpetually embracing him.
I told him, yesterday, I would write this to America.

Mrs. Adams to her husoand.

Sunday, June ISth, 1775. Deaeest Feiend, — The
day, — perhaps, the decisive dayr, — is come, on which
the fate of America depends. My bursting heart
must find vent at my pen. I have just heard, that
our dear friend, Dr. Warren, is no more, but fell glori-
ously fighting for his country ; saying, better to die
honorably in the field, than ignominiously hang upon
the gallows. Great is our loss. He has distil guish-
ed himself in every engagement, by his couiage and
fortitude, by animating the soldiers, and leading
them on by his own example. A particular account
of these dreadful, but I hope glorious days will be
transmitted to you, no doubt, in the exactest man-
ner.

" The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the
strong; but the God of Israel is he that giveth
strength and power unto his people. Trust in him
at all times, ye people, pour out your hearts before
him ; God is a refuge for us." Chnrlestown is laid
in ashes. The battle began upon our inti'enehmenta
upon Bunker's Hill, Saturday morning about three
o'clock, and lias not ceased yet, and it is now three
o'clock Sabbath afternoon.

It is expected they will come out over the Neck
to-night, and a dreadful battle must ensue. Almighty
God, cover the heads of our countrymen, and be a
shield to our dear friends! How many have fallen,
we know not. The constant roar of the cannon is so
distressing, that we cannot eat, drink, or sleep.
May we be supported and sustained in the dreadful
conflict. I shall tarry here till it is thought unsafe
by my friends, and then I have secured myself a
retreat at your brothers, who has kindly offered me
part of his house. I cannot compose myself to write
any further at present. I will add more as I hear
further.

Tuesday afternoon. — I have been so much agitated,
that I have not been able to write since Sabbath
day. When I say, that ten thousand reports are
passing, vague and uncertain as the wind, I believe
I speak the truth. I am not able to give you any
authentic account of last Saturday, but you will not
be destitute of intelligence. Colonel Palmer has
just sent me word, that he has an opportunity of
conveyance. Incorrect as this scrawl may be, it
6hall go. I ardently pray, that you may be sup-
ported through the arduous task you have before
you. I wisli I could contradict the report of the
Doctor's death ; but it is a lamentable truth, and the
tears of multitudes pay tribute to his memory;
those favorite lines of Collins continually sound in
my ears;

"How sleep the brave," &c*

I must close, as the Deacon waits. I have not

* Collins's Ode is too well known to need iosertion.

HUGH WILLIAMSON.

189

pretended to be particular with regard to what I
have heard, because I know you will collect better
intelligence. The spirits of the people are very
good: the loss of Charlestowu affects them no more
than a drop of the bucket. I am, most sincerely,
Yours, Poetia.

Mrs. Adams to Mrs. Smith.

Quiney, Feb. 3d, 1794. My Dear Mrs. Smith, — I
have not written to you since I received yours of
January 5th. I go from home but very little, yet I
do not find my time hang heavy upon my hands.
You know that I have no aversion to jom in the
cheerful circle, or mix in the world, when oppor-
tunity offers. I think it tends to rub off those aus-
terities which age is apt to contract, and reminds us,
as Goldsmith says, " that we once were young."
Whilst our presence is easy to youth, it will tend
to guide and direct them.

"Be to their faults a little blind,
Be to their virtues ever kind,
And fix the padlock on the mind."

To-morrow our theatre is to open. Every pre-
caution has been taken to prevent such unpleasant
seenes as you represent are introduced upon yours.
I hope the managers will be enabled to govern the
mobility, or the whole design of the entertainment
will be thwarted.

Since I wrote you last, a renewal of the horrid
tragedies has been acted in France, and the Queen
is no more.

"Set is her star of life; — the pouring storm
Turns its black delude from that aching head;
The fiends of murder quit that bloodless form,
And the last animating hope is fled.

"Blest is the hour of peace, though cursed the hand
Which snaps the thread of life's disastrous loom;
Thrice blest tiie great, invincible command,
That deals the solace of the slumb'ring tomb."

Not content with loading her with ignominy, whilst
living, they blacken her memory by ascribing to her
the vilest crimes. Would to Heaven that the destroy-
ing angel might put up his sword, and say, " It is
enough ;" that he would bid hatred, madness, and
murder cease.

"Peace o'er the world her olive branch extend,
And white-robed Innocence from Heaven descend."

I wish, most ardently, that every arm extended
against that unhappy country might be withdrawn,
and they left to themselves, to form whatever con-
stitution they choose; and whether it is republican
or monarchical is not of any consequence to us, pro-
vided it is a regular government of some form or
other, which may secure the faith of treaties, and
due subordination to the laws, whilst so many go-
vernments are tottering to the foundations. Even
in one of the freest and happiest in the world, rest-
less spirits will aim at disturbing it. They cry "A
lion! a lion!" when no real danger exists, but from
their own halloo, which in time may raise other
ferocious beasts of prey.

Sirs. A dams to her husband, an his election to the Presidency.
Quiney. February 8th, 1797.

"The sun is dressed in brightest beams,
To give thy honors to the day."

And may it prove an auspicious prelude to each en-
suing season. You have this day to declare your-
self head of a nation. " And now, O Lord, my God,
thou hast made thy servant ruler over the people.
Give unto him an understanding heart, that he may
know how to go out and come in before this great
people ; that he may discern between good andbad.

For who is able to judge this thy so great a people ?"
were the words of a royal sovereign ; and not less
applicable to him who is invested with the chief
magistracy of a nation, though he wear not a crown,
nor the robes of royalty.

My thoughts and my meditations are with you,
though personally absent ; and my petitions to
Heaven are, that " the things which make for peace
may not be hidden from your eyes." My feelings
are not those of pride or ostentation, upon the occa-
sion. They are solemnized by a sense of the obli-
gations, the important trusts, and numerous duties
connected with it. That you may be enabled to
discharge them with honor to yourself, with justice
and impartiality to your country, and with satisfac-
tion to this great people, shall be the daily prayer
of your A. A.

HUGH WILLIAMSON.
A physician, patriot of note and historical writer,
was born of Irish parentage in West Nottingham
township, Pennsylvania, Dec. 5, 1735. He was
taught at the country academy of the Rev. Fran-
cis Alison. After leaving the college of Philadel-
phia, he became a Presbyterian preacher, which
his ill health did not permit him to continue.
He was then Professor of Mathematics in his
college at Philadelphia, carrying on his medical
studies, which he further prosecuted in a resi-
dence at Edinburgh in 1704; obtaining his medi-

^^*-/<^^Z_

cal degree at Utrecht. On his return to Phila-
delphia lie was engaged in several important
astronomical observations, which he published in
the transactions of the Philadelphia and New
York Philosophical Societies. He travelled in
1772 to the West India Islands, and the next
year through Great Britain, to collect funds for
an academy at Newark, in Delaware. He had
the honor of reporting to the British Government
the destruction of the tea in Boston harbor, and
prophesying before the Privy Council a civil war
if the coercive 'policy was continued. It is not
true, as has been stated, that he procured while
in London the letters of Hutchinson which
Franklin sent to America; for the letters had
been received in Boston before he reached Eng-
land. Returning home at the outbreak of the
war, he employed himself as a mercantile trader
at the South, offering his services in the army 'to
the state of North Carolina, which were accepted.
He was present at the battle of Camden, adminis-
tering to the wounded of his countrymen in the
enemy's camp, under the protection of a flag. In
1782 he was a member of the legislature of North
Carolina, and afterwards of Congress, and in
1787 signed the Constitution of the United States.
After 1790 he became a resident of New York.
His chief literary productions are his anniversary
discourse On the Benefit of Civil History, before
the New York Historical Society in 1810; his
Observations on the Climate in different parts
of America, compared with the climate in Corre-
sponding parts of the other Continent, and his
History of North Carolina, published in 1812.
He also wrote a number of medical papers, one

190

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

on the fascination of serpents, in the Medical
Repository and American Medical and Philoso-
phical Register. He was a contributor to Ca-
rey's Museum of several papers on languages and
politics. An active promoter of the medical, lite-
rary, and philanthropical associations of New
York, and of its material interests, especially in
his advocacy of the canal policy, he enjoyed the
friendship of the excellent society then at its
height in New York, the Clintons, Hosacks,
Mitchells, and others, till his death in his eighty-
fifth year, May 22, 1819. In his personal charac-
ter Williamson was a man of strength and inte-
grity. No one could approach him with flattery
or falsehood. The style of his writing is direct
and forcible. His appearance was noticeable,
tall, dignified, with strongly marked features.
His portrait was painted by Trumbull.*

SAMUEL PETEES.

Saio-el Peters, the " Parson Peters" of M'Fin-
gal, and the reputed and undoubted author of a
History of Connecticut, very generally read, but
deservedly much impugned as an authority, be-
longed to that one family of Peters which has
become so widely spread in the country, and of
which, in its first generation in America, the
celebrated Hugh Peters was the representative.
There were three brothers who came to New
England in 1634 to avoid star-chamber persecu-
tion, William, Thomas, and Hugh. The last suc-
ceeded Roger Williams at Salem, repudiating his
alleged heresies, and remained there five years,
paying much attention to its civil affairs, his pro-
ficiency in which led to his being sent to England
to regulate some matters of trade in 16-11. He
there became the active parliamentary leader and
preacher, and on the restoration was somewhat
unnecessarily beheaded, as a return for his political
career. His publications were sermons, reforming
pamphlets, and poems. His Good Work for a
Good Magistrate, in 1651, contained the radical
proposition of burning the historical records in
the Tower.

Hugh Peters, during his imprisonment in the
Tower, wrote a book of religious advice and con-
solation, addressed to his daughter Elizabeth —
Mr.Hvgh Peters's Last Legacy to an only Child.f
His great nephew, Samuel, says .of it, " it was
printed and published in Old and New England,
and myriads of experienced Christians have read
his legacy with ecstasy and health to their souls.
No doubt but the book Will be had in remem-
brance in America as long as the works of the
Assembly of Divines (at Westminster) and the
holy Bible."]: Notwithstanding this prediction it
would probably be difficult to procure a copy of
the book now. Its spirit may be known by the
rules which he sent to his daughter from his
prison —

* Biographical Memoir, by Dr. Hosack. Collections of the
New York Historical Society, iii.

+ A Dying Father's Last Legacy to an only Child: or Mr.
Hugh Peters's Advice to his Daughter: written by his own
hand, during his late imprisonment in the Tower of London;
and given her a little before his death. London ; Printed for
G. Calvert and T. Brewster. 1660.

X History of the Kev. Hugh Peters, 77.

Whosoever would five long and

Blessedly, let him observe these

Following Rules, by which

He shall attain to that

Which he desireth.

Thoughts

'Divine, Awful,
Godly.

Talk

Little, Honest,
True.

Words

Profitable, Holy,
Charitable.

Manners

Grave, Courteous,
Cheerful.

Dyet

Temperate, Convenient,
Frugal.

Apparel

-be*

Sober, Seat,
Comely.

Will

Constant, Obedient,
Ready.

Sleep

Moderate, Quiet,
Seasonable.

Prayers

Short, Devout, Often,
Fervent.

Recreation

Lawful, Brief,
Seldom.

Memory,

Of Death, Punishment,

,

Glory.

by the verses which he wrote for her.

Ml

WISHES.

I wish your Lamp and Vessel

full of oyl
Like the Wise Virgins

(which all fools neglect),
And the rich Pearl,

for which the Merchants toyl,
Yea, how to purchase
are so circumspect :

I wish you that White Stone

With the new Name,
Which none can read
but who possess the same

I wish you neither Poverty,

nor Riches,
But Godliness,

so gainful, with Content;
No painted Pomp,

nor Glory that bewitches ;
A blameless Life

is the best monument :
And sucli a Soul

that soars above the Sky,
Well pleased to live,

but better pleased to dye,

I wish you such a Heart

as Mary had,
Minding the Main,

open'd as Lydia's was :
. A hand like Dorcas

who the naked clad ;
Feet like Joanna's,

posting to Christ apace.
And above all,

to live yourself to see
Marryed to Him,

who must your Saviour be,

The son of the eldest brother, William, settled
at Hebron, Connecticut, in 1717, where his fifth
son, Samuel, was born Dec. 12, 1735. He was gra-
duated at Yale in 1757; travelled the next year to
Europe ; abandoned the family Puritanism and

SAMUEL PETERS.

191

became a clergyman of the Church of England in
1760, when lie returned to Connecticut, marrying
a descendant of learned Dr. John Qwen. He had
charge of the churches at Hartford and Hebron.
In 1774, he was compelled to leave the country

as a Royalist clergyman. The circumstances of
this exit Were characteristic of the times. He was
considered by the Whigs who were conducting
the Revolution, as an arrant Tory, who was med-
dling with and marring the work of Indepen-
dence by his communications to his correspon-
dents in England. If his humorous, voluble style
is to be taken as evidence of his conversational
powers, his tongue must also have been an un-
welcome scourge of his rebellious townspeople.
So a committee of the public paid him a domicilia-
ry visit to secure from him a decided declaration
of his opinions. Three hundred gathered at his
house at Hebron, stated his offences, and hinted at
a suit of tar and feathers. It was a committee
with power ; and they called for books and pa-
pers, demanding copies of the letters which he
had forwarded, and of the malignant articles
which be had sent to the newspapers. They pro-
cured from him a declaration in writing, that he
had not " sent any letter to the Bishop of Eon-
don or the Venerable Society for the Propagation
of the Gospel, relative to the Boston Port Bill, or
the Tea affair, or the Controversy between Great
Britain and the Colonies, and designed not to,
during his natural life, as these controversies
were out of his business as a clergyman; also, he
had not written to England to any other gentle-
man, or designed Company, nor would he do it."
He gave them up, also, a copy of Thirteen Re-
solves Which he had written for the press, which
were found, when they came to be published and
read, to be not satisfactory to the public mind.
This was in August. In September, he received
another visit from a committee, and undertook to
defend himself by argument ; but they were there'
to act and not to talk, and referred him to the
sovereign people in full assembly without. He
addressed the latter convocation in an harangue;
and in the midst of it a gun was heard to go off
in his house, notwithstanding his declaration that
he had no serviceable fire-arms. He was allowed
to go on, and another paper was proposed to be
signed by l>im. He prepared one, and it was not
satisfactory. The committee requested his signa-
ture to one of their own writing, which he de-
clined. To cut short the parley, "the whole body
broke into the house by door and windows, and
seizing Dr. Peters, carried him off to the meeting-
house green, three quarters of a mile away. He
was now convinced by this rough logic, ami sign-
ed the required document. u During the affair,"
we are told, " his gown and shirt were torn, one
sash of his house was somewhat shattered, a table
was turned over, and a punch-bowl and glass were
broken."*

After this the Doctor fled to Boston, on his

* Sabine's Loyalists, Art. Peters.

way to England, smarting with the wrongs of
the Yankees, and bent on revenge. His design
was to accumulate stories of the desperate acts of
the people of the state for the government in
England, and procure a withdrawal of the Char-
ter. This was suspected by his Connecticut
friends, and they made sure of it by intercepting
his letters. In one of these, dated Boston, ad-
dressed to the Rev. Dr. Auchmuty, of New York,
he intimates as in prospect, that " the bounds of
New York may directly extend to Connecticut
River, Boston meet them, and New Hampshire
take the Province of Maine, and Rhode Island be
swallowed up as Dathan."*

Doctor Peters did not carry his point of dis-
membering Connecticut, but he punished the na-
tives almost as effectually by writing a book — his
history of the State. t It was published anony-
mously, but it was as plainly Peters's as if every
page had been subscribed by him, like the extort-
ed declarations. Looked at as history, we may
say it is unreliable ; but regarded as a squib,
which the author almost had the opportunity of
writing with quills plucked from his writhing
body, and planted there by his over-zealous breth-
ren of Hebron, it is vastly enjoyable and may be
forgiven.

The General History of Connecticut is as good,
in its way, as Knickerbocker's New York. The
full-mouthed, humorous gravity of its style is ir-
resistible. Its narrations are independent of time,
place, and probability. A sober critic would go
mad over an attempt to correct its misstate-
ments ; though the good Dr. Dwight thought the
subject once of importance enough to do some-
thin'g of the kind in his Travels, where be amends
the historian's account of the magnificent flight
of steps which led up to the church at Green-
wich, by stating that they were simply stones of
the street placed there to protect visitors from
the mud. J

In the reprint of the work at New Haven, in
1829, illustrated by eight very remarkable engra-
vings, there is a species of apologetic preface,
which would lift the work into the dignity of
history, after making liberal allowances for the
author's "excited feelings," and particularly ins
revenge npon the Trumbull family for " that no-
table tetrastic," which was put into the mouth of
the hero by the author of M'Fingal : —

"What warnings had ye of your duty,
From our old rev'rend Sam Auchmuty ;
From priests of all degrees and metres,
To our fag-end man Parson Peters.

But all this will not do. What are we to think
of a sober writer, on the eve of the nineteenth
century, publishing such a geographical statement

* Sabine's Loyalists, 584.

+ A General History of Connecticut: from its First Settle-
ment, under George Fenwick, Esq., to its latest period of ami-
ty with Great Britain, including a description of the Country,
and many curious and interesting Anecdotes ; to which is add-
ed an Appendix, wherein new and the true sources of the pre-
sent Rebellion in America an' pointed out; together with the
particular part taken by the People of Connecticut in its Pro-
motion. By a Gentleman of the Province. Plus apud me ra-
tio valebit, quam vulgi opinio. — Clc. London, printed for the
author. Sold by J. Bew, 1781.

$ "This is the building pompously exhibited in that mass
of folly andfalsehood commonly called Peters's History of Con-
necticut."— Dwight's Travels, iii. 405.

192

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

of a well known river as that which we place in
italics in the following paragraph : —

The middle river is named Connecticut, after the
great Sachem to whom that part of the province
through which it runs belonged. This vast river is
500 miles long, and four miles wide at its mouth:
its channel, or inner banks, in general, half a mile
wide. It takes its rise from the White Hills, in the
north of New England, where also springs the river
Kennebec. Above 500 rivulets, which issue from
lakes, ponds, and drowned lands, fall into it; many
of them are larger than the Thames at London. In
March, when the rain and sun melt the snow and
ice, each stream is overcharged, and kindly hastens
to this great river, to overflow, fertilize, and preserve
its trembling meadows. They lift up enormous
cakes of ice, bursting from their frozen beds with
threatening intentions of plowing up the frighted
earth, and carry them rapidly down the falls, where
they are dashed in pieces and rise in mist. Except
at these falls, of which there are five, the first sixty
miles from its mouth, the river is navigable through-
out. In its northern parts are three great bondings,
called cohosses, about 100 miles asunder. Two hun-
dred miles from the Sound is a narrow of five yards
only, formed by two shelving mountains of solid
rock, whose tops intercept the clouds. Through
this chasm are compelled to pnss all the waters
which in the time of the floods bury the northern
country. At the upper cohos the river then spreads
several miles wide, and for fiv^e or six weeks ships
of war might sail over lands, that afterwards pro-
duce the greatest crops of hay and grain in all
America. People who can bear the sight, the groans,
the tremblings, and surly motion of water, trees,
and ice, through this awful passage, view with as-
tonishmentone of the greatest phenomenons in nature.
Here water is consolidated, without frost, by pressure,
by swiftness, between the pinching, sturdy rocks, to
such a degree of induration, that an iron crow floats
smoothly down its current : — here iron, lead, and
cork, have one common weight : — here, steady as time,
and harder than marble, the stream passes irresisti-
ble, if not swift, as lightning : — the electric fire
rends trees in pieces with no greater ease, than does
this mighty water. The passage is about 400 yards
in length, and of a zigzag form, with obtuse cor-
ners.

or how can we accept for anything but a wag the
narrator of this marvel at Windham : —

Windham resembles Rumford, and stands- on
Winnomantic river Its meeting-house is elegant,
and has a steeple, bell, and clock. Its court-house
is scarcely to be looked upon as an ornament. The
township forms four parishes, and is ten miles
square.

Strangers are very much terrified at the hideous
noise made on summer evenings by the vast number
of frogs in the brooks and ponds. There are about
thirty different voices among them ; some of which
resemble the bellowing of a bull. The owls and
whippoorwills complete the rough concert, which
may be heard several miles. Persons accustomed
to such serenades are not disturbed by them at their
proper stations; but one night, in July, 1758, the
frogs of an artificial pond, three miles square, and
about five from Windham, finding the water dried
up, left the place in a body, and marched, or rather
hopped towards Winnomantic river. They were
under the necessity of taking the road and going
through the town, which they entered about mid-
night The bull frogs were the leaders, and the
pipers followed without number. They filled a road

40 yards wide for four miles in length, and were for
several hours in passing through the town, unusual-
ly clamorous. .The inhabitants were equally per-
plexed and frightened ; some expected to find an
army of French and Indians ; others feared an
earthquake, and dissolution of nature. The con-
sternation was universal. Old and young, male and
female, fled naked from their beds with worse shriek-
ings than those of the frogs. The event was fatal
to several women. The men, after a flight of half
a mile, in which they met with many broken shins,
finding no enemies in pursuit of them, made a halt,
and summoned resolution enough to venture back
to their wives and children ; when they distinctly
heard from the enemy's camp these words, Wight,
Hilderkcn, JJier, Tete. ■ This last they thought mgarrt
treaty ; and plucking up courage, they sent a trium-
virate to capitulate with the supposed French and
Indians. These three men approached in their
shirts, and begged to speak with the general ; but
it being dark, and no answer given, they were sore-
ly agitated for some time betwixt hope and fear ; at
length, however, they discovered that the dreaded
inimical army was an army of thirsty frogs, going
to the river for a little water.

Such an incursion was never known before nor
since; and yet the people of Windham have been
ridiculed for their timidity on this occasion. I ve-
rily believe an army under the Duke of Marlbo-
rough, would, under like circumstances, have acted
no better than they did.

His story of Old Put and the Wolf too has some
variations from acknowledged versions : —

AVe read that David slew a lion and a bear, and
afterwards that Saul trusted him to fight Goliath.
In Pomfret lives Col. Israel Putnam, who slew a she-
bear and her two quhs with a billet of wood. The
bravery of this action brought him into public no-
tice: and, it seems, he is one of fortune's favorites.
The story is as follows : — In 1754, a large she-bear
came in the night from her den, which was three
miles from Mr. Putnam's house, and took a sow out
of a pen of his. The sow, by her squeaking, awoke
Mr. Putnam, who hastily ran to the poor creature's
relief; but before he could reach the pen, the bear
had left it, and was trotting away with the sow in
her mouth. Mr. Putnam took up a billet of wood,
and followed the screamings of the sow, till he
came to the foot of the mountain, where the den
was. Dauntless he entered the horrid cavern; and,
after walking and crawling upon his hands and knees
for fifty yards, came to a roomy cell, where the bear
met him with great fury. He saw nothing but the
fire of her eyes ; but that was sufficient for our
hero: he accordingly directed his blow, which at
once proved fatal to the bear and saved his own life
at a most critical moment. Putnam then discovered
and killed two cubs ; and having, though in Egyp-
tian darkness, dragged them and the dead sow, one
by one, out of the cave, he went home, and calmly
reported to his family what had happened. The
neighbors declared, on viewing the place by torch."
light, that his exploit exceeded those of Sampson or
David. Soon afterwards the General Assembly ap-
pointed Mr. Putnam a Lieutenant in the Army
marching against Canada. His courage and good
conduct raised him to the rank of Captain the next
year. The third year he was made a Major; and
the fourth a Colonel. Putnam and Rogers were the
heroes through the last war. Putnam was so hardy,
at a time when the Indians had killed all his men,
and completely hemmed him in upon a river, as to
leap into a stream, which in a minute carried him

SAMUEL PETERS.

193

down a stupendous fall, where no tree could pass
without being torn in picees. The Indians reasona-
bly concduded that Putnam, their terrible enemy, was
dead, and made their report accordingly at Ticon-
deroga ; but soon after, a scouting party found
their sad mistake in a bloody rencontre. Some few
that got off declared that Putnam was yet living,
and that he was the first son of Hobbamockow,
and therefore immortal. However, at length the
Indians took this terrible warrior prisoner, and tied
him to a tree; where he hung three days without
food.or drink. They did not attempt to kill him for
fear of offending Hobbamockow ; but they sold him
to the French at a great price. The name of Put-
nam was more alarming to the Indians than cannon,
and they never would fight him after his escape
from the falls. He was afterwards redeemed by
the English.

The sketch of the manners of the country is
amusing. Passing over some graver topics we
light upon this picture of a courtship.

An English gentleman, during a short residence in
a certain town, had the good luck to receive some
civilities from the Deacon, Minister, and Justice.
The Deacon had a daughter, without beauty, but
Bensible and rich. The Briton (for that was the
name he went by), having received a present from
the West Indies, of some pine-apples and sweet-
meats, sent his servant with part of it to the Dea-
con's daughter, to whom at the same time he ad-
dressed a complimentary note, begging Miss would
accept the pine-apples and sweetmeats, and wishing
he might be able to make her a better present.
Miss, on reading the note, was greatly alarmed, and
exclaimed " Mama! Mama! Mr. Briton has sent me
a love-letter." The mother read the note, and
shewed it to the Deacon; and, after due considera-
tion, both agreed in pronouncing it a love-letter.
The lawyer, justice, and parson, were then sent for,
who in council weighed every word in the note, to-
gether with the golden temptation which the lady
possessed, and were of opinion that the writer was
in love, and that the note was a love-letter, but
worded so carefully that the law could not punish
Briton for attempting to court Miss without obtain-
ing her parents' consent. The parson wrung his
hands, rolled up his eyes, shrugged up his shoulders,
groaned oat his hypocritical grief, and said, "Dea-
con, I hope you do not blame me for having been
the innocent cause of your knowing this imprudent
and haughty Briton. There is something very odd
in all the Britons ; but I thought this man had some
prudence and modesty : however, Deacon," putting
his hand on his breast, and bowing with a pale, de-
ceitful face, " I shall in future shun all the Britons,
for they are all strange creatures." The lawyer and
justice made their apologies, and were sorry that
Briton did not consider the quality of the Deacon's
daughter before he wrote his letter. Miss, all ap-
prehension and tears, at finding no punishment
could reach Briton in the course of law, cried out
to her counsellors, " Who is Briton? Am I not the
Deacon's daughter? What have I done that he
should take such liberties with me? Is lie not the
natural son of some priest or foundling? Ought he
not to be exposed for his assurance to the Deacon's
daughter ?"

Her words took effect. The council voted that
they would show their contempt of Briton by
neglecting him for the time to come. On his return
home, the parson, after many and great signs of sur-

f)rise, informed his wife of the awful event which
lad happened by the imprudence of Briton. She
vol.. I. — 13

soon communicated the secret to her sister gossips,

Erudently cautioning them not to report it as from
er. But, not content with that, the parson himself
went among all his acquaintance, shaking his head
and saying " 0 Sirs ! have }Tou heard of the strange
conduct of friend Briton ? — how he wrote a love-
letter, and sent it with some pine-apples to the Dea-
con's daughter? My wife and I had a great friend-
ship for Briton, but cannot see him any more."
Thus the afflicted parson told this important tale to
every one except Briton, who, from his ignorance
of the story, conducted himself in his usual manner
towards his supposed friends, though he observed
they had a show of haste and business whenever he
met with any of them. Happily for Briton, he de-
pended not on the Deacon, Minister, or Colony, for
his support. At last, a Scotchman heard of the evil
tale, and generously told Briton of it, adding that
the parson was supposed to bo in a deep decline
merely from the grief and fatigue he had endured
in spreading it. Briton thanked the Scotchman, and
called on the friendly parson to know the particu-
lars of his offence. The parson, with sighs, bows,
and solemn smirkings, answered, " Sir, the fact is,
you wrote a love-letter to the Deacon's daughter,
without asking her parents' consent, which has given
great offence to that lady, and to all her acquain-
tance, of whom I and my wife have the honor to be
reckoned a part." Briton kept his temper. " So
then," said he, " I have offended you by my insolent
note to the Deacon's daughter! I hope my sin is
venial. Pray, Sir, have you seen my note?" "Yes,"
replied the parson, "to my grief and sorrow: I
could not have thought you so imprudent, had I not
seen and found the note to be your own writing."
"How long have you known of this offence?"
" Some months." " Why, Sir, did you not seasona-
bly admonish me for this crime ?" " I was so hurt
and grieved, and my friendship so great, I could
not bear to tell you." Mr. Briton then told the par-
son, that his friendship was so fine and subtle, it was
invisible to an English eye; and that Gospel minis-
ters in England did not prove their friendship by
telling calumnious stories to everybody but the per-
son concerned. " But I suppose," added he, " this
is genuine New England friendship, and merits
thanks more than a supple-jack !" The parson, with
a leering look, sneaked away towards his wife; and
Briton left the colony without any civil or ecclesias-
tical punishment, telling the Scotchman that the
Deacon's daughter had money, and the parson faith
without eyes, or he should never have been accused
of making love to one who was naturally so great
an enemy to Cupid. Of such or worse sort being
the reception foreign settlers may expect from the
inhabitants of Connecticut, it is no wonder that few
or none choose to venture among them.

As a satirical and humorous writer Peters cer-
tainly had his merits; and with all its nonsense
there is some " sharpened sly inspection" in his
pages.

When the war was ended, Peters was chosen in
I'TO-i, bishop, by a convention of the Protestant
Episcopal Church in Vermont, and accepted tho
office ; but, on the ground that the act of Parlia-
ment limited the number of bishops for America,
the Archbishop of Canterbury declined his con-
secration. Dr. Peters had gone so far, not only as
to accept tho proffered call, but to write an
Episcopal letter, his pen armed with all the graces
and dignity of St. Paul. He addresses his epistle
"to the churches of Christ spread abroad in tho
State of Vermont, mercy, peace, and love be

194

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

multiplied ;" and goes on with an apostolic unc-
tion, the humor of which is irresistible when we
consider Saint Paul, Dr. Peters, and that the
writer was no bishop after all. He was only
trying on the mitre.

" Until I come," writes he, parodying the Apostle,
"give attendance to reading, prayer, and faith.
When present with you, by the grace of God, I will
lead you through the wilderness of life, up to a
world that knows no sorrow. I will guide you with
mine eye, and feed your lambs and sheep, with bread
more durable than the everlasting hills. While
absent from you in body I am present with you in
mind, thanking God always in every prayer of mine,
and making request with joy for your fellowship in
the gospel of his Son; that you may be of good
cheer, and overcome a world yielding no content,
the only wealth of man ; and that you may know
how to be abased, and how to abound ; everywhere
and in all things to be instructed to obey the laws
of Christ. The spirit which heals all our infirmities,
no doubt led you to glorify God in me, when you
appointed the least of all saints to fill the highest
Btation in the Church of Jesus Christ ; duty and
inclination (with feeble blood flowing in my veins)
inspire my soul to seek and do you good in that
6acred office to which you have invited me ; being
confident that j"ou will receive me with nil gladness,
and hold me in reputation for the work of Christ,
which brought me near to death, and shall finally
make you my glory and my joy. * * Should my
insufficiency in spiritual and scientific knowledge
appear too manifest among you, my zeal and labors
in the vineyard of the Lord shall, I trust, be your
pride and bonst: in this hope, and resting on the
candor, order, morality, learning, piety, and religion
of those over whom I am well chosen to preside, I
shall with some degree of confidence undertake the
charge, and claim the wisdom of the wise to enlighten
my understanding, and the charity and prayers of
all to remove any wants, and to lessen my manifold
imperfections. * * Salute one another with faith
and love."*

Peters seems to have resided in England till
1805, when he returned to America. He pub-
lished in New York, in 1807, his History of the
Rev. Hugh Petersj a book which is set forth as a
vindication of the character of that parliamentary
divine. The appendix contains some interesting
notices of his own, and of some of the royalist
families in America. The calculation of the rapid
growth of the Peters family in the country is
curious. As a specimen of his waggery and skill
in telling a story we may quote his account of an
interview between Ward, the simple cobbler of
Agawam, and Cotton Mather.

The Rev. Mr. Ward, being an eminent Puritan in
England, disliked the spiritual and star-chamber
courts under the control of tiie hierarchy of Eng-
land ; he fled to New England, and became minister
of Agawam, an Indian village, making the west

* The Churchman's Magazine, N. T. June, 1S^7. Art. Sup-
plement to American Episcopate.

+ A History of the Eev. Hugh Peters. A.M.. Avch-Intemlant
of the Prerogative Court of Doctors' Commons ; member of tbo
celebrated Assembly of Divines at the Savoy, Westminster;
and Piincipal Chaplain to the Lord Protector and to the Lords
and House of Commons, from the yc3r 1640 to 1660. With an
Appendix. By the Eev. Samuel Peters, LL.D. "Let us
praise famous men, and our fathers who begat us: the Lord
hath wrought great glorv by them." — Eccles. xliv. New
York: Printed for tbo Author. 1S07.

part of Springfield, in the State of Massachusetts.
He was an exact scholar, a meek, benevolent, and
charitable Christian. He used the Indians with
justice and tenderness, and established one of the
best towns on Connecticut river. He was free from
hypocrisy, and stiff bigotry, which then domineered
in New England, and which yet remain at Hadley
and Northampton, not much to the credit of morality
and piety. Mr. Ward had a large share of Hudi-
brastic wit, and much pleasantry with his gravity.
This appears in his history of Agawam, wherein
he satirized the prevailing superstition of tlie times;
which did more good than Dr. Mather's book,
entitled, Stilts for JJnarfs in Christ toWade through
the Mud, or his Magnalia, with his otlier twenty-
four books. His posterity are many, and have dona
their part in the pulpit, in the field, and at the bar,
in the six States of Kew England, and generally
have followed the charitable temper of their vene-
rable ancestor, and seldom fail to hish the avarice of
the clergy, who are often recommending charity
and hospitality to the needy stranger, and at the
same time never follow their own advice to others.
Mr. Ward, of Agawam, has left his children an
example worthy of imitation. The story is thus
related :

Dr. Mather, of Boston, was constantly exhorting
his hearers to entertain strangers, for by doing so
they might entertain angels. But it was remarked,
that Dr. Mather never entertained strangers, nor
gave any relief to beggars. This report l cached
Mr. Ward, of Agawam, an intimate chum of, the
Doctor while at the university. Ward said he
hoped it was not true ; but resolved to discover the
truth ; therefore he set off for Boston on foot, one
hundred and twenty miles, aid arrived at the door
of Dr. Mather on Saturday evening, when most
people were in bed, and knocked at the door, which
the maid opened. Ward said, " I come from the
country, to hear good Dr. Mather preach to-morrow.
I am hungry, and thirsty, without money, and I
beg the good Doctor will give me relief and a bed
in his house until the Sabbath is over." The maid
replied, " The Doctor is in his study, it is Saturday
night, the Sabbath is begun, we have no bed, or
victuals, for ragged beggars," and shut the door
upon him. Mr. Ward again made use of the
knocker: the maid went to the Doctor, and told
him there was a sturdy beggar beating the door,
wdio insisted on coming in and stayii g there over
the Sabbath. The Doctor said, " Tell him to depart,
or a constable shall conduct him to a prison." The
maid obeyed the Doctor's order; and Mr. Ward said,
" I will not leave the door until I have seen the
Doctor." This tumult roused the Doctor, with his
black velvet cap on his head, and he came to the
door and opened it, and said, "Thou country villain,
how dare you knock thus at my door after the Sab-
bath has begun ?" Mr. Ward replied, " Sir, I am a
stranger, hungry and moneyless; pray take me in,
until the holy Sabbath is past, so that I may hear
one of your godly sermons." The Doctor said,
"Vagrant, go thy way, and trouble me no more; I
will not break the Sabbath by giving thee food and
lodging," and then shut the door. The Doctor had
scarcely reached his stud}', when Ward began to
exercise the knocker with continued violence. The
Doctor, not highly pleased, returned to the door and
said, " Wretched being, why dost thou trouble me
thus ? what wilt thou have s" Ward replied, " En-
tertainment in your house until Monday morning."
The Doctor said, "You shall not, therefore go thy
way." Mr. Ward replied, " Sir, as that point is
settled, pray give me a sixpence or a shilling,
and a piece of bread and meat" The Doctor

THOMAS GODFREY.

195

said, " I will give thee neither," and again shut
the door. And then Mr. Ward thundered with the
knocker of the door, and the Doctor returned in
great, wrath and said, " Thou art mad, or possessed
with an evil spirit: what wilt thou have now?"
Mr. Ward replied, " Since you, sir, will not give lodg-
ings, nor money, nor food, nor drink to me, I pray
for your advice; will you direct me to a stew!"
The'Doctor cried out, " Vagrant of all vagrants ! the
curse of God will fall on thee ; thou art one of the
non-elects. Dost thou, villain, suppose that I am
acquainted with bad houses? What dost thou want
at a stew?" Mr. Ward replied, "I am hungry,
weary, thirsty, moneyless, and almost naked ; and
Solomon, the wisest king the Jews ever had, tells
me and you, that a whore will bring a man to a
morsel of bread at the last." Now Dr. Mather awoke
from his reverend dream, and cried, " Tu es Ward-
onus vel Diabolus." Mr. Ward laughed, and the
Doctor took him in and gave him all he wanted ; and
Mr. Ward preached for the Doctor next day, both
morning and evening This event had its due effect
on the Doctor ever after, and he kept the Shnna-
mite's chamber, and became hospitable and charita-
ble to all in want.

' It corrected the Doctor's temper to such a degree,
that six months after, lie ceased to pray more
against the pope and conclave of Rome, and sup-
plied the vacuum, by praying for the downfall of
the red drag mi at Morocco, Egypt, and Arabia, on
the east side of the Red Sea, even at Mecca and
Medina ; words which helped the sand to pass
through the hour-glass, the orthodox length of a
prayer.

It is, perhaps, not the best manners to apply
chronology to an anecdote, but if we look at the
facts of this case, it is rather unfortunate for
good Dr. Peters that Ward died ten years before
Cotton Mather, whom the story was probably
intended to lit, was born; and if, to give the
joke another chance, we carry it back to In-
crease Mather, Ward left New England when that
quaint divine was but eight years old, and died
tlirej years before that elder Mather graduated.
If we were disposed still further to go into par-
ticulars, we might remark that Ward's Agawam
was not on the Connecticut; that he did not write
a history ol that place; that the cobbler was not
remarkably free from bigotry ; and that Dr.
Mather's "Stilts for Dwarfs" is not to be found
mentioned in any respectable bibliographical work.

Dr. Peters made a journey to the We,3t, to the
Falls of St. Anthony, in prosecution of some
land claims, in 1817. lie died at New York,
April 11), 1836, at the venerable age of 90.

In conclusion, if he may be allowed to be his
own eulogist, "he is reputed," says he of him-
self, "to have the faculties of his uncle Hugh, the
zeal and courage of his grand-parent, General
Thomas Harrison, mixed with the benevolence
that characterized his great-grand-parent, William
.Peters, Esq., of 1634.''

THOMAS GODFREY.
Thomas Godfrey was born in the city of Philadel-
phia, in the year 1736. His father, a glazier by
trade, was an accomplished mathematician, and
the inventor of the quadrant,* commonly known

* Barlow, in his notices of the men of science in America
in the eighth book of the Columbiad, pays this tribute to God-
frey : —

as Hadley's Quadrant. He died a few years after
the birth of his son, who, after receiving " a com-
mon education in his mother tongue," was ap-
prenticed to a watch-maker by his relatives. The
pursuit was one contrary to his inclinations,
which were bent on the study of painting, but he
remained at the trade until 1758, when he ob-
tained a lieutenant's commission in the Pennsyl-
vania forces raised in that year for the expedition

5^>^y^-

against Fort Du Quesne. On the disbanding of
the troops he removed to Carolina, to accept a
situation as a factor, which had been offered to
him. Here he remained three years, during
which he wrote his tragedy of The Prince of Par-
thia. He sent the manuscript on to a friend in
Philadelphia, to be offered to the American com-
pany performing in that city in 1759, but it was
never produced. On the death of bis employer
he returned to his native city, and, no opening
offering there, sailed as a supercargo to the
island of New Providence, returning from thence
to North Carolina, where a few weeks after his
arrival, by exposure to the sun on horseback, an
exercise to which he was unaccustomed, lie con-
tracted a fever which put an end to his life after
a week's illness, on the third of August, 1763.

Godfrey, in addition to his tragedy, wrote a
poem of five hundred lines, entitled, The Court
of Fancy, modelled on Chaucer's House of Fame,
a number of short poems on subjects of the day,
a few pastorals in the style then in vogue, and a
modernized version of a portion of Chaucer's
Assembly of Fowles. Most of these appeared
during his lifetime in the American Magazine,
published in Philadelphia, from which a portion
were copied with commendatory remarks in the
London Monthly Review. His poetical writings
were published in Philadelphia in 1767, with a
biographical preface by N. Evans, in which he
" bespeaks the candour of the public in behalf of
the collection, as the first of the kind which the
Province has produced." The volume also con-
tains an anonymous critical analysis of the poems,
written by Dr. William Smith.* The whole
work forms a quarto volume of 22-i pages.

The Prince of Parthia was the first dramatic
work written in America. It possesses much
merit, with many marks of hasty composition,
and want of mental maturity. The plot is drawn
from an ancient story, and is well developed,
though the fifth act presents the usual excess of
bloodshed common to tragedies by youthful
authors. The opening scene, descriptive of the
triumphant return of the youthful hero, Arsaces,
from a successful war, is one of the best in the
play, but shows, like many subsequent pas-

To snide the sailor in his wandering way,
See 'Godfrey's glass reverse the beams of day.
His lifted quadrant to the eye displays
From adverse skies the counteracting rays;
And marks, as devious sails bewilder'd roll,
Each nice gradation from the steadfast pole.

Jefferson, in his Notes on Virginia, supported his claims to
the invention.

* Fisher's Early Poets of Fa.

196

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

sages, that the youCg dramatist had read Shake-
speare.

FROM THE PRINCE 07 PAETHIA.

Glad Ctes'phon
Pouts forth her numbers, like a rolling deluge,
To meet the blooming Hero ; all tlie ways,
On either side, as far as sight can stretch.
Are lin'd with crowds, and on the lofty walla
Innumerable multitudes are rang'd.
On ev'ry countenance impatience sate
With roving eye, before the train appear'd.
But when they saw the Darling of the Fates,
They rent the air witli loud repeated shouts ;
The mother show'd hini to her infant son,
And taught his lisping tongue to name Arsaces :
E'en aged sires, whose sounds are scarcely heard,
By feeble strength supported, toss their caps.
And gave their murmur to the general voice.

Gotar.es. The spacious streets, which lead up to the
temple,
Are strew'd witli flow'rs ; each, with frantic joy,
His garland forms, and throws it in the way.
What pleasure, Phraates, must swell his bosom,
To see the prostrate nation all around him,
And know he's nuide them happy ! to hear them
Tease the gods, to shower their blessings on him!
Happy Arsaces ! fain I'd imitate
Thy matchless worth, and be a shining joy 1

The following lines are happily expressed : —

Vardancs. Ileav'ns ! what a night is this I
Lysias. 'Tis filled with terror.

Vardunes. Terror indeed! it 6eems as sick'ning
Nature
Had given her order up to gen'ral ruin ;
The heavens appear as one continu'd flame,
Earth with her terror shakes, dim night retires,
And the red lightning gives a dreadful day,
While in the thunder's voice each sound is lost;
Fear sinks the panting heart in ev'ry bosom,
E'en the pale dead, affrighted at the horror,
As though unsafe, start from their marble goals,
And howling through the streets are seeking shelter.

Fain would I cast this tiresome being off,
Like an old garment worn to wretchedness.

How sweet the eloquence of dying men !
Hence poets feigned the music of the Swan,
When death upon her lays his icy hand,
She melts away in melancholy strains.

"With a license to be matched nowhere out of
Thomas Ileywood and a few other early English
dramatists, he has introduced, amidst his Persian
scenes, a song to Phillis.

Among his miscellanies is what may he called
a patriotic version of the first Psalm. Its open-
ing stanza is —

Blest is the man who never lent
To bold, designing men his ear,

Who, on his country's good intent,
From bribing offices is clear.

He also wrote A Pastoral to the Memory of
General Wolfe, and an ambitious poem on Vic-
tory, which contains some forcible imagery.

P0E8T — FKOM THE COURT OF FANCY.

Sweet Poesy was seen their steps behind,
With golden tresses sporting in the wind ;

In careless plaits did her bright garments flow,
And nodding laurels wav'd around her brow ;
Sweetly she struck the string, and sweetly sung.
The attentive tribe on the soft accents hung.
'Tis her's to sing who great in arms excel,
Who bravely conquer'd or who glorious fell ;
Heroes in verse still gain a deathless name,
And ceaseless ages their renown proclaim.
Oft to philosophy she lends her aid,
And treads the sage's solitary shade ;
Pier great first task is nobly to inspire
Th' immortal soul with virtue's sacred fire.

Young Thyrsis with sighs often tells me his tale,

And artfully strives o'er my heart to prevail,

He sings me love-songs as we trace through the

grove,
And on each fair poplar hangs sonnets of love.
Though I often smile on him to soften his pain,
(For wit I would have to embellish my train,)
I still put him off, for I have him so fast,
I know he with joy will accept me at last

Among the gay tribe that still flatter m}' pride,
There's Cloddy is handsome, and wealthy beside ;
With such a gay partner more joys I can prove
Than to live in a cottage with Thyrsis on love.
Though the shepherd is gentle, yet blame me who

can,
Since wealth and not manners, 'tis now makes the

man.
But should I fail here, and my hopes be all past,
Fond Thyrsis, I know, will accept me at last.

Thus Delia enliven'd the grove with her strain,
When Thyrsis the shepherd came over the plain ;
Bright Chloris he led, whom he'd just made his bride,
Joy shone in their eyes, as they walk'd side by side;
She scorn'd each low cunning, nor wish'd to deceive,
But all her delight was sweet pleasure to give.
In wedlock she chose to tie the swain fast,
For shepherds will change if put off to the last.

A DITIIYRAMBIC ON WINK.

Come ! let Mirth our hours employ,

The jolly God inspires;

The rosy juice our bosom fires,

And tunes our souls to joy.

See, great Bacchus now descending,

Gay, with blushing honours crown'd ;

Sprightly Mirth and Love attending,

Around him wait.

In smiling state —

Let Echo resound

Let Echo resound

The joyful news all around.

Fond Mortals come, if love perplex,

In wine relief you'll find ;

Who'd whine for woman's giddy sex

More fickle than the wind?

If beauty's bloom thy fancy warms,

Here see her shine,

Cloth'd in superior charms;

More lovely than the blushing morn.

When first the op'ning day

Bedecks the thorn,

And makes the meadows gay.

Here see her in her crystal shrine;

See and adore ; confess her all divine,

The Queen of Love and Joy

Heed not thy Chloe's scorn —

THOMAS PAINE.

19T

This sparkling glass,
With winning grace,
Shall ever meet thy fond embrace,
And never, never, never cloy,
No never, never cloy.

Here, Poet, see, Castalia's spring-
Come, give me a bumper, I'll mount to the skies,
Another, another — 'Tis done! I arise;

On fancy's wing,

I mount, I sing,

And now, sublime,
Parnassus' lofty top I climb —
But hark ! what sounds are these I hear,
Soft as the dream of her in love,
Or zephyrs whisp'ring thro' the grove f
And now, more solemn far than fun'ral woe,
The heavy numbers flow!

And now again,

The varied strain,
Grown louder and bolder, strikes quick on the ear,
And thrills through every vein.

Tis Pindar's song!

His softer notes the fanning gales

Waft across the spicy vales,

While, thro' the air,

Loud whirlwinds bear
The harsher notes along.

Inspir'd by wine,
He leaves the lazy crowd below,
Who never dar'd to peep abroad,
And, mounting to his native sky,
For ever there shall shine.

No more I'll plod

The beaten road ;
Like him inspir'd, like him I'll mount on high;

Like his my strain shall flow.

Haste, ye mortals ! leave your sorrow;
Let pleasure crown to-day — to-morrow

Yield to fate.
Join the universal chorus,

Bacchus reigns
Ever great ;

Bacchus reigns

Ever glorious —

Hark ! the joyful groves rebound,

Sporting breezes catch the sound.

And tell to hill and dale around —

" Bacchus reigns" —

While far away,
The busy echoes die away. — *

THOMAS PAINE.
The literary merits of Paine, associated with
his services to the American cause during the
Revolution, well entitle him to a place in this
collection. The grossness of his pen in his attacks
on the Christian religion, and the miserable last
years of his life as painted by no friendly biogra-
pher, have thrown into the shade both his patri-
otism and the merits of his style, in those days
when he came to America, and in clear trumpet

* As our Poet appears so warm on his subject it may not be
amiss to remark here, that ha never drank any icint, and that
his Immpers are all ideal, which may serve, perhaps, as a refu-
tation of that noted ada^e, that a water drinker can never be
a good Dithyrarabic Poet.

tones sounded the notes of resistance to oppres-
sion, and faith in the success of the armies of
Washington. In this mixed world of good and
evil, we must learn to separate virtues and vices,
and "pick our good from out much ill."

■r

Thomas Paine was born of Quaker parentage,
the son of a stay-maker, at Thetford, in the
county of Norfolk, England, January 29, 1736.
He received a grammar-school education in his
native town, and early developed a taste for
poetry, which his parents discouraged, confining
him at the age of thirteen, for the next five years,
to his father's uninteresting and laborious calling.
In his twentieth year, young Paine went to Lon-
don, where he worked at his trade, relieving its
monotony by a cruise in a privateer. In 1758
he is stay-maker again at Dover, and in 1759, in
the same occupation at Sandwich, where he mar-
ried the daughter of an exciseman, who died the
following year. The occupation of his father-in-
law opened a new prospect for him, and he aban-
doned his trade for an office in the excise, which
he attained after some preliminary training in his
home at Thetfi >rd, at the age of twenty-five. His
business of exciseman was varied by employment
as teacher in two London academies, a position
which enabled him to acquire some philosophical
knowledge from the lectures delivered in the
metropolis. In 1768 he became established at
Lewes, in Sussex, as exciseman, where he married
the daughter of a grocer and tobacconist recently
deceased, to whose trade he succeeded. He be-
longed to a club of the place, where he maintained
his stiff Whig opinions with pertinacity and ele-
gance of expression. He wrote at Lewes his ode
on the Death of General Wolfe, which was pub-
lished in the Gentleman's Magazine.

His business as a grocer seems to have led him
into some unwarrantable smuggling practices, for
which he was dismissed the service in 1774,
when he went to London as an adventurer,
having previously parted with his wife by mutual

19S

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

agreement. lie was fortunate in procuring a
letter to Benjamin Franklin from a commissioner
of the excise, who had been impressed with the
ability with which Paine had urged an increase
of salary for the officers of that body, in a pam-
phlet which he had drawn up in their behalf.
Franklin advised him to go to America, whither
he set off immediately, reaching Philadelphia in
the beginning of the year 1775, on the eve of the
actual outbreak of the Bevolution. He was at
once employed by Aitken,* a bookseller of that
city, with a salary of £25 currency a year, as
editor of the Peniuyhauian Magazine, for which
he wrote the introduction, a felicitous sentence
of which has been noticed by his biographers.
Alluding to the season, January, and the quite as
chilling nature of such enterprises in those times,
he says : " Thus encompassed with difficulties,
this first number of the Pennsylvanian Magazine
entreats a favorable reception; of which we shall
only say, that like the early snowdrop it comes
forth in a barren season, and contents itself with
foretelling the reader that choicer flowers are pre-
paring to appear." Dr. Eush, who was attracted
by his clever conduct of the Magazine,! formed
his acquaintance in Aitken's bookstore, and sug-
gested to him the preparation of a popular book
to meet the objections to separation from the
mother country. This was the origin of the
famous pamphlet Common Sensc.\ Paine thought
of calling it "Plain Truth," when Eush suggested
the title which it bears.

Its influence upon the American cause was very
great. Eush says it was published " with an
effect which has been rarely produced by types
and paper in any age or country." " 1 think
this pamphlet," says Ashbel Green, of Princeton,
in his autobiography, "had a greater run than
any other ever published in our country. It was
printed anonymously, and it was a considerable
time before its author was known or suspected.
In the meantime large editions were frequently
issued; and in newspapers, at taverns, and at al-
most every place of public resort, it wus adver-
tised, and very generally in these words : ' Com-
mon Sense, for eighteen-pence.' I lately looked

* Robert Aitken was a Scotchman who came to Philadel-

fthia in 17G9. and wafi a bookseller and printer. In the Revo-
ntion he sided -with the American interest, and narrowly
escaped a residence in the prison ships of New York. Ho
published the Pennsylvania Magazine, or American Monthly
Museum, from .Tan. 1775, to June 1776. It had Francis Hop-
kinson and Witherspoon for contributors. Aitken died in
ISf 2, at the age of sixty-eight. — Thomas's Hist, of Printing,
ii. 76.

t The ode on Wolfe and some spirited Reflections on Lord
Clive, from his pen, printed in the Magazine, were noticeable
articles for the time.

X The original edition of "Common Sense" was published in
Philadelphia by Robert Bell, with whom it is said that Paine
was then employed as a clerk. — Notes on the Provincial Hist,
of Penn. by T. J. Wharton. Penn. Hist. Soc. Memoirs, 1625,
p. 151, where some amusing details are given of Bell. He was
a Scotsman, who came to Philadelphia in 1766. He had been a
partner as a bookseller in Dublin with the facetious George
Alexander Stevens. He was first an auctioneer, and after-
wards a bookseller in Philadelphia, where lie published Black-
stone's Commentaries by subscription in 1772, '-a stupendous
enterprise for the time." The Revolution broke up his busi-
ness, and he turned auctioneer again and peddler, dying at
Richmond, in Virginia, in 17S4. He headed his auction an-
nouncements, "Jewels and diamonds to be sold or sacrificed
by Robert Bell, humble provedore to the sentimentalists." and
sought subscribers to Blackstone with the invitation, "Inten-
tional encouragers who wish for a participation of this senti-
mental banquet, are requested to scud their names to Robert
BelL"

into a copy of this pamphlet, and was ready to
wonder at its popularity, and the effect it pro-
duced when originally published. But the truth
is, it struck a string which required but a touch
to make it vibrate. The country was ripe for
independence, and only needed somebody to tell
the people so, with decision, boldness, and plau-
sibility. Paine did this recklessly, having no-
thing to do whether his suggestions were received
favorably or unfavorably, while wiser and better
men than he were yet maturing their minds by
reflection, and looking well to every step which
they took or advised. Paine's talent, and lie cer-
tainly possessed it eminently, was, to make a tak-
ing and striking appeal to popular feelings, when
he saw it tending towards a point to which he
wi-hed to push it, whether for good or for evil."*

" I sent you from New York," writes John
Adams to his wife, Philadelphia, February 18,
1776, "a pamphlet intituled Common Sense,
written in vindication of doctrines which there is
reason to expect that the further encroachments
of tyranny and depredations of oppression will
soon make the common faith; unless the cunning
ministry, by proposing negotiations and terms of
reconciliation, should divert the present current
from its channel.''!

No copyright was taken out ; it was printed to
the number of a hundred thousand, and its author,
in the midst of success, was in debt to his printer
for the work.

Paine's subsequent pretensions to priority in
his Common Sense in setting the ball of revolu-
tion in motion were simply absurd. He arrived
a foreigner under difficulties, a few months be-
fore the battle of Lexington. John Adams, in a
letter to Eush, May 1, 1807.J seriously notices
these vaporings. The fact is that Paine, admit-
ting his merits to the full, was a humble though
useful servant of the cause, never its master.

The University of Pennsylvania made him Mas-
ter of Arts, and the legislature voted him the
substantial honor of five hundred pounds. In
1776 he served as a volunteer in the army, and
was with Washington in his retreat before Howe
to the Delaware. To arouse the spirit of the
people and soldiery he commenced the publica-
tion of the series of patriotic tracts, The Crisis,
the first number of which appeared December 19,
1776, and the last on the attainment of peace,
April 19, 1783. There were eighteen numbers
in all. Number one is now before us, as it may
have been read to the corporal's guard in the
camp — eight small octavo pages, in neat pica, and
on very dingy paper. Its first stirring sentence
is still familiar as a proverb: — "These are the
times that try men's souls : the summer soldier

* Life of Ashbel Green, 46. The following lines appear In
Carey's American Museum, i. 167 : —

American Indrper.d nee.
When pregnant Nature strove relief to gain,
Her nurse was Washington, her midwife Paine :
The infant, Independence, scarce began
To be, ere he had ripen'd into man.
France bis godfather, Britain was his rod.
Congress his guardian, and his father God.
t John Adams, in his diary of 1779, tells us that on bis ar-
rival in France in that year, he was greeted as the famous
Adams on the stieiiirth of the authorship of this pamphlet,
which was translated into French, having been ascribed to
him. — Works, iii. 1E9.
X Works, ix. 591.

THOMAS PAINE.

199

and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink
from the service of his country ; but he that
stands it now, deserves the love and thanks of
man and woman." The rest was as good ; sar-
casm for the enemy, eulogy for Washington, and
a picturesque account of the camp scenes in which
he had been engaged. After this, as Cheetham
remarks: " Pafne's pen wa-i an appendage almost
as necessary to the army of independence, and as
formidable, as its cannon;" and he attributes
"much of the brilliant little affair" which in the
same month followed at Trenton, to the confi-
dence inspired by this first number. Paine wrote
a second on that victory ; a third at Philadelphia
in April, 1777, in which month he was elected
by Congress Secretary to the Committee of Fo-
reign Affairs, a post which he held till 1779,
when he was dismissed from the office for a vio-
lation of confidence in publishing a delicate state-
ment affecting the loan or gift from France in
opposition to the claim of the negotiator Silas
Deane. The remaining numbers of the Crisis
were occupied, as occasion arose, with war or
finance, the encouragement of the army at home,
and witty disparagement of the enemy in America
and in Parliament. General Sir William Howe
and Lord North were particular objects of his in-
vective. Of the honors paid to the former, he
says: " There are knights of various orders, from
the knight of the windmill to the knight of the
post," and proposes as a final substitute for the
Egyptian method of embalming the more frugal
American plan: "In a balmage, sir, of humble
tar, you will be as secure as Pharaoh, and in a
hieroglyphic of feathers rival in finery all the
mummies of Egypt."

In 1780, Paine was appointed clerk to the As-
sembly in Pennsylvania. In 1781, he accom-
panied Col. Laurens in his mission to France, to
obtain a loan. They set out in February, and re-
turned in August with two millions and a half of
specie. In 1782, he had published at Philadel-
phia his Letter to the Abbe Raynal ; a neat pro-
duction, correcting erroneous statements touching
the Revolution, in which he shows his own skill
in rhetoric at the expense of the foreign writer.

Paine's services during the war time were pro-
perly acknowledged by the government. When
Washington was about resigning his commission
to Congress, and was at Rocky Bill in the neigh-
borhood of Princeton, be sent a letter to Paine at
Bordentown, acknowledging his services, offering
to impress them upon Congress, and inviting him
to his table. In 1785, Congress discharged the
obligation by a grant of three thousand dollars ;
Pennsylvania presented him five hundred pounds,
and New York conferred upon him a handsome
estate at New Rochelle, confiscated from a Royal-
ist, which embraced three hundred acres of land.

In 1787, Paine returned to Europe, carrying
with him the model of an iron bridge, winch he
made some stir with in England. Finding his
mother in want, he settled upon her a stated pay-
ment for her support. When Burke's Reflections
on the French Revolution appeared, he published
his reply, the Rights of Man, the first part in
1791 ; the second in 1792. It has been generally
acknowledge 1 to be a work of ability. Many of
its points of attack upon the British constitution
are strongly taken, and held with success. Its

views of hereditary Kingcraft and of Democra-
tic representations, have passed, in this country
at least, into truisms. One passage is very feli-
citous in expression, where he is picturing in
terms equal to the language of the great writer
whom he is answering, that orator's oversight of
the victims of despotism in his poetical commi-
seration for the fate of its royal perpetrators.
" Not one glance of compassion, not one commi-
serating reflection, that I can find throughout his
book, has he bestowed on those who lingered out
the most wretched of lives, a life without hope, in
the most miserable of prisons. It is painful to
behold a man employing his talents to corrupt
himself. Nature has been kinder to Mr. Burke
than he is to her. He is not affected by the reali-
ty of distress touching his heart, but by the showy
resemblance of it striking his imagination. He
pities the plumage, but forgets the dying bird. Ac-
customed to kiss the aristocratical hand that hath
purloined him from himself, he degenerates into
a composition of art, and the genuine soul of na-
ture forsakes him. His hero, or his heroine,
must be a tragedy victim expiring in show, and
not the real prisoner of misery sliding into death
in the silence of a dungeon."

A state prosecution was on foot against him
when a French deputation called him to France, to
sit in Convention for the department of Calais.
His reception on his arrival there in 1792 was
sufficiently gratifying to his vanity. In the Con-
vention, though he voted for the trial of the king,
he endeavored to preserve his life by a speech, in
which be recommended banishment to America.
" Let," said he, " the United States be the safe-
guard and asylum of Louis Capet. There, here-
after, far removed from the miseries and crimes of
royalty, he may learn, from the constant aspect
of public prosperity, that the true system of go-
vernment consists in fair equal, and honorable
representation." He was engaged in Constitution-
making with Condorcet. He attracted the ill will
of the extreme part}', and was arrested and sent to
prison by Robespierre, on the plea of being a fo-
reigner, by the same vote which consigned famous
Anacharsis Clootz to a dungeon and the guillo-
tine. Paine escaped the latter fate by an acci-
dent. He was imprisoned (he writes in one of his
letters) on a corridor of the Luxembourg, the door
of his room opening outwards. While in this po-
sition it was marked by the officers for its supply
of victims. When they came round the door was
shut and the mark on the inside ; so Paine was
not guillotined ; and the tyrant failing shortly
after, Monroe, the American ambassador, reclaim-
ed him and took him to his house. Bis imprison-
ment lasted eleven months, from Dec. 1793 to
Nov. 179-4. A first part of Ins infidel work, The
Age of Reason, was published while Paine was in
prison. The second part appeared in 1796.

In the same year with the completion of this
wretched publication, Paine sent forth in Paris
his Letter to George Washington, whom he
charged with neglecting to use the influence of
government for his release as an American citizen,
and not content with this discussion, depreciated
for the lack of qualities which he had expressly
attributed to him in his American publications.*

* Paine gave vent to his feelings in the following epigram-

200

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

He had now by these writings made enemies of
every friend of religion and his country (for pa-
triotism was identical with respect for Washing-
ton), and when he returned to America in 1802,
it was to fall rapidly in public estimation, with
the additional incumbrance of the personal ne-
glect and vices of intemperance and avarice into
which he fell in his old age. That the former
had anticipated his return to America is proved
by the Paris correspondence of Gouverneur Mor-
ris, who writes of him June 25, 1793, as " a little
more drunk than usual," and the following year,
March G, " in the best of times he had a larger
share of every other sense than of common sense,
and lately the intemperate use of ardent spirit
has, I am told, considerably impaired the small
stock which he originally possessed."

He visited Jefferson at Washington, who, re-
membering his early position, had agreed to his
request to bring him home in a national vessel;
but the most ardent political reminiscences could
not compensate for Paine's personal habits, and
the popular contempt into which he had fallen.
His friend and biographer Packman takes Barlow
to task for omitting any mention of him among
the heroes of the American war in the Columbiad,
and proposes to give him a snug place between
Washington and Franklin in the fifth book of that
poem. His last days at New Eochelle and New
York have been ruthlessly brought to the gaze
of the world by his American biographer, Cheet-
ham, who sometimes forgets the decencies due
even to drunkenness, and always to old age*
Paine's vanity was wounded by the neglect into
which he had fallen; his early habits of neatness,
when he was painted by Eomney, and " looked
altogether like a gentleman of the old French
school," could not be detected in the filth into
which he had fallen. His intemperance was noto-
rious. His treatment of Madame Bonneville,
whom he had induced to follow him from Paris,
not without scandal, was cruel. He was ar-
raigned in court for a petty debt, and exposed by
his servants : one of whom is said to have at-
tempted his life in revenge for his ill treatment.
Janis, the painter, tolerated his presence in his
bachelor's quarters, and has left us a melancholy
memorial of his appearance in the plaster bust
which is preserved in the rooms of the New York
Historical Society. While the artist was at work

matic direction to the sculptor who should make the statue of
Washington :

Take from the mine the coldest, hardest stone,
It needs no fashion, it is Washington ;
But if you chisel, let your strokes be rude,
And on his breast engrave Ingratitude.
* Cheetham's revised private copy of the Life of Paino is in
the New York Historical Society; the corrections in his own
handwriting and intended for a second edition. In the preli-
minary address to Clinton, the strong animadversions on the
despotism of Jefferson's democracy, and Ids fears of the dura-
tion of the Republic, are mitted. The style is generally im-
proved by slight verbal alterations. In the description of his
first interview with Paine in the Preface, the comparison of
the philosopher's nose to Bardolph's. as described by Falstaff,
is stricken out. Cheetham was an English radical from Man-
chester, who edited in New York the Amwican Citizen, hold-
ing a trenchant pen for a newspaper. At first he was the
friend of Paine. Paine has had numerous biographers, includ-
ing Francis Oldys, a fictitious name on a partisan pamphlet,
written by the refugee loyalist, the author of the Political An-
nuls, George Chalmers. Paine's name is spelt Pain throughout
this production. There is a volume of Memoirs by W. T.
Sherwin, London, 1S19 ; by Thomas Ciio Hickman, of the
same date ; and a later volume by G. Yale, New York. 1S41.

upon it, he exclaimed, " I shall secure him to a
nicety, if I am so fortunate as to get plaster enough
for his carbuncled nose."* He would lodge at
different places about town as opportunity served,
his habits rendering frequent changes of lodging
inevitable. One of his tenements, in not the
most agreeable locality, he shared with a show
of wild beast-. Death approaching, he desired,
in recollection of his Quaker parentage, to be
interred in the cemetery of that body, but this
consolation was refused him, — a circumstance
which is said to have affected him deeply. In
his closing days he was visited by clergymen and
others to convert him from his irreligion or testify
to his infidelity. He died quietly in New York,
June 8, 1809. His remains were taken to New
Bochelle where he was interred on his farm, with
an inscription on a stone, " Thomas Paine, author
of Common Sense." In 1819, ten years after-
wards, when Cobbett wished to create a sensa-
tion, he absurdly rifled the grave of the bones,
which he carried to England.

The merit of Paine's style as a prose writer is
very great. He had the art of saying a familiar
thing in a familiar way, and at the same time im-
parting to it great spirit and freshness. He could
sometimes introduce an apposite story almost as
well as Franklin. His wit was ready, and generally
pungent enough. After his return to America in
1802, he writes, " Some of John Adams' loyal
subjects, I see, have been to present him with an
address on his birth-day ; but the language they
use is too tame for the occasion. Birth-day ad-
dresses, like birth-day odes, should not creep along
like drops of dew down a cabbage leaf, but roll
in a torrent of poetical metaphor.''t To Frank-
lin's saying, " Where liberty is, there is my coun-
try," his retort was, " Where liberty is not, there
is my country." A minister of a new sect came
to him to explain the Scriptures, asserting that
the key had been lost these four thousand years,
and they had found it. " It must have been very
rusty, then," was his reply. Some of his sentences
are felicitous as Sheridan's for neatness and point.
Tims in his letter to the Earl of Shelbnrne, of the
loss of reputation : " There are cases in which it
is as impossible to restore character to life, as it
is to recover the dead. It is a phoenix that can
expire but once,' and from whose ashes there is
no resurrection ;" and to the same nobleman on
obedience to outlandish authority : " For a thou-
sand reasons England would be the last country
to yield it to. She has been treacherous, and wo
know it. Her character is gone, and we have seen
the funeral." To the Abbe Raynal he says, hold-
ing Britain to account for keeping the world ir
disturbance and war : " Is life so very long that
it is necessary, nay even a duty, to shake the
sand and hasten out the period of duration ? n
" Science," he says, "the partisan of no country,
but the benevolent patroness of all, has liberally
opened a temple where all may meet. The phi-
losopher of one country sees not an enemy in the
philosopher of another : he takes his seat in the

* Francis's Reminiscences of Printers, Authors, &c There
was an old couplet sung by the boys in the streets : —
Tom Paine is come from far. from far,
llis nose is like a blazing star !
t Second Letter to the Citizens of the U. S. Nov. 19, 1S.2,
in the Nat IntelL

THOMAS PAINE.

201

temple of science, and asks not who sits beside
him." Literature, he calls " the tongue of the
world." " War," he says in the Rights of Man,
" is the Pharo table of governments, and nations
the dupes of the game." It was this word and a
blow, this powerful expression in ordinary sym-
bols, which gained Paine the ear of the public
during the Revolutionary war. His phrases put
American resistance in an incontrovertible form.

Paine's slight claims as a poet depend upon a
few showy pieces, more remarkable for their
collocation of fine words than just thought or ex-
pression. He had fancy, but wanted poetic
feeling.

In another light the study of Paine's character
may be of importance to the world, in showing
that a certain degree of ready tact and ability,
and a certain amount of benevolence, may consist
with the utter absence of the higher philosophical
and mural qualities. Paine had a great deal of
wit and sagacity, but their exercise was confined
to a narrow field. "When he undertook his attack
upon the Christian religion, it was without the
learning, the thought, or the feeling requisite for
its study. It is much to ask us to believe that he
was sustained by any better motive than vanity.
Notwithstanding his experience of the French
Revolution in the cell of the Luxembourg, he
could not relinquish the egotism and self-suffi-
ciency productive of the excesses which had placed
him there. Suffering from lawlessness, he was
vain and empty enough to seek to inflict that
curse upon the world in its most important re-
lations. The Age of Season is justly treated with
contempt, but it points a most significant moral
of the worthlessness of the shallow powers of the
understanding divorced from the control of the
higher faculties of the soul. " It must soon sink
into infamy," said William Linn, from the pulpit,
who had commended Paine's political writings in
the same place, and " carry his own name along
with it. There is nothing new in the perfor-
mance, save the bold and indecent manner. In-
deed it is provoking to see the Christian religion,
after having withstood the roarings of the lion, in-
sulted by the brayings of the ass."* The pro-
phecy has been verified, and under the odium into
which he cast himself few readers of the present
day are familiar with the brilliant qualities which
once excited our forefathers.

ODE, OH THE DEATH OF GENERAL WOLFE.

Is a mouldering cave where the wretched retreat,

Britannia sat wasted with care;
She moura'd for her Wolfe, and exclaim'd against
fate,

And gave herself up to despair.
The walls of her cell she had sculptured around

With the feats of her favorite son ;
And even the dust, as it lay on the ground,

Was engraved with the deeds he had done.

The sire of the Gods from his crystalline throne

Beheld the disconsolate dame,
And moved with her tears he sent Mercury down,

And these were the tidings that eauie.

* Linn's Discourse, fall of Antichrist. Series "Signs of the
Times." 1T94. An Epigrammatist wrote :

Here lies Tom Paine, who wrote in liberty's defence.
But iu his "Age of Reason" lost bis "Common Sense."

Britannia forbear, not a sigh nor a tear

For thy Wolfe so deservedly loved,
Your tears shall be changed into triumphs of joy,

For thy Wolfe is not dead but removed.

The sons of the East, the proud giants of old,

Have crept from their darksome abodes,
And this is the news as in heaven it was told,

They were marching to war with the Gods;
A council was held in the chambers of Jove,

And this was their final deeree,
That Wolfe should be called to the armies above,

And the charge was entrusted to me.

To the plains of Quebec with the orders I flew,

He begg'd for a moment's dela}' ;
He cry'd, Oh! forbear, let me victory hear,

And then thy command I'll obey.
With a darksome thick film I encompass'd his eyes,

And bore him away in an urn,
Lest the fondness he bore to his own native shore,

Should induce him again to return.

EEFLECTIONS ON THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LORD CLIVE.

Ah ! the tale is told — the scene is ended — and the
curtain falls. As an emblem of the vanity of all
earthly pomp, let his monument be a globe, but, be
that globe a bubble ; let his effigy be a man walking
round it in his sleep; and let Fame, in the character
of a shadow, inscribe his honors on the air.

I view him but as yesterday on the burning plains
of Plassey, doubtful of life, health, or victory. I see
him in the instant when " To be, or not to be,"
were equal chances to a human eye. To be a lord
or a slave, to return loaded with the spoils, or remain
mingled with the dust of India. Did necessity
always justify the severity of a conqueror, the rude
tongue of censure would be silent, and however
painfully he might look back on scenes of horror,
the pensive reflection would not alarm him. Though
his feelings suffered, his conscience would be ac-
quitted. The sail remembrance would move serene-
ly, and leave the mind without a wound. But, oh,
India! thou loud proclaimer of European cruelties,
thou bloody monument of unnecessary deaths, be
tender in the day of enquiry, and shew a Christian
world thou canst suffer and forgive.

Departed from India, and loaded with the plun-
der, I see him doubling the Cape and looking wist-
fully to Euro-e. I see him contemplating on years
of pleasure, a..d gratifying his ambition with ex-
pected honours. I see his arrival pompously an-
nounced in every newspaper, his eager eye rambling
through the crowd in quest of homage, and his ear
listening lest an applause should escape him. Hap-
pily for him he arrived before his fame, and the
short interval \vas a time of rest. From the crowd
I follow him to the court, I see him enveloped in the
sunshine of popular favour, rivalling the great in
honours, the proud in splendour, and the rich in
Avealth. From the court I trace him to the country,
his equipage moves like a camp; every village bell
proclaims his coming ; the Avandering peasants
admire his pomp, and his heart runs over with joy.

But, alas! not satisfied Avith uncountable thou-
sands, I accompany him again to India. I mark the
variety of countenances Avhich appear at his landing.
Confusion spreads the neAvs. Every passion seems
alarmed. The wailing Avidow, the crying orphan,
and the childless parent remember and lament; the
rival nabobs court his faA-our; the rich dread his
power and the poor his severity. Fear and terror
march like pioneers before his camp, murder and
rapine accompany it, famine and Avretcheduess fol-
low in the rear.

202

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Resolved on accumulating an unbounded fortune,
he enters into all the schemes of war, treaty, and
intrigue. The British sword is set up for sale ; the
heads of contending nabobs are offered at a price,
and the bribe taken from both sides. Thousands of
men or money are trifles in an Indian bargain. The
field is an empire, and the treasure almost without
end. The wretched inhabitants are glad to com-
pound for offences never committed, and to purchase
at any rate the privilege to breathe, while he, the
sole lord of their lives and fortunes, disposes of
either as he pleases, and prepares for Europe.

Uncommon fortunes require an uncommon date
of life to enjoy them in. The usual period is spent
in preparing to live: and unless nature prolongs
the time, fortune bestows her excess of favours in
vain.

The conqueror of the East having nothing more
to expect from the one, has all his court to make to
the other. Anxiety for wealth gives place to
anxiety for life; and wisely recollecting that the sea
is no respecter of persons, resolves on taking his
route to Europe by land. Little beings move un-
seen, or unobserved, but he engrosses whole king-
doms in his march, and is gazed at like a comet.
The burning desert, the pathless mountains, and the
fertile valleys, are in their turns explored and
passed over. Ko material accident distresses his
progress, and England once more receives the
spoiler.

How sweet is rest to the weary traveller; the
retrospect heightens the enjoyment ; and if the
future prospect be serene, the days of ease and hap-
piness are arrived. An uriinquiring observer might
have been inclined to consider Lord Give, under all
these agreeable circumstances: one, whose every
care was over, and who had nothing to do but to sit
down and say, sow/, take thine ease, thou hast goods
laid up in store for many years.

The reception which he met with on his second
arrival was in every instance equal, and in many, it
exceeded, the honours of the first. 'Tis the peculiar
temper of the English to applaud before they think.
Generous of their praise, they frequently bestow it
unworthily; but when once the truth arrives, the
torrent stops, and rushes back again with the same
violence. Scarcely had the echo of applause ceased
upon the ear, than the rude tongue of censure took
up the talc. The newspapers, fatal enemies to ill-
gotten wealth, began to buzz a general suspicion of
his conduct, and the inquisitive public soon refined
it into particulars. Every post gave a stab to fame
— a wound to his peace, and a nail to his coffin.
Like spectres from the grave they haunted him in
every company, and whispered murder in his ear.
A life chequered with uncommon varieties is seldom
a long one. Action and care will, in time, wear
down the strongest frame, but guilt and melancholy
are poisons of quick dispatch.

Say, cool deliberate reflection, was the prize,
though abstracted from the guilt, worthy of the
pains ? Ah ! no. Fatigued with victory, he sat
down to rest, and while he was recovering breath
he lost it. A conqueror more fatal than himself
beset him, and revenged the injuries done to India.

As a cure for avarice and ambition, let us take a
view of him in his latter years. Hah ! what gloomy
Being wanders yonder? How visibly is the melan-
choly heart delineated on his countenance. He
mourns no common care — his very steps are timed
to sorrow — he trembles with a kind of mental palsy.
Perhaps 'tis some broken-hearted parent, some David
mourning for his Absalom, or some Heraclitus weep-
ing for the world. I hear him utter something
about wealth — perhaps he is poor and hath not

wherewithal to hide his head. Some debtor started
from his sleepless pillow, to ruminate on poverty,
and ponder on the horrors of a jail ; poor man, I'll
to him and relieve him. Hah ! 'tis Lord Clive him-
self! Bless me, what a change! He makes, I see,
for yonder cypress shade — fit scene for melancholy
hearts ! I'll watch him there, and listen to his story.

Lord Clive. Can I but suffer when a beggar pities
me? Ere while I heard a ragged wretch, who every
mark of poverty had on, say to a sooty sweep, " Ah,
poor Lord Clive ! " while he, the negro-colored
vagrant, more mercifully cruel, curst me in my
hearing.

There was a time when fortune, like a yielding
mistress, courted me with smiles. She never waited
to be told my wishes, but studied to discover them;
and seemed not happy to herself, but when she had
some favour to bestow. Ah, little did I think the
fair enchantress would desert me thus, and after
lavishing her smiles upon me, turn my reproaeher,
and publish me in folio to the world. Volumes of
morality are dull and spiritless compared to me.
Lord Clive is himself a treatise upon vanity, printed
on a golden type. The most unlettered clown
writes explanatory notes thereon, and reads them
to his children. Yet I could bear these insults
could I but bear myself. A strange unwelcome
something hangs about me. In company I seem no
company at all. The festive board appears to me a
stage, the crimson-colored port resembles blood.
Each glass is strangely metamorphosed to a man in
armour, and every bowl appears a nabob. The joy-
ous toast is like the sound of murder, and the loud
laugh are groans of dying men. The scenes of India
are all rehearsed, and no one sees the tragedy but
myself. Ah ! I discover things wrhich are not, and
hear unuttered sounds.

Oh, peace ! thou sweet companion of the calm and
innocent! whither art thou fled? Here, take my
gold, and all the world calls mine, and come thou in
exchange. Or thou, thou noisy sweep, who mix thy
food with soot and relish it, who canst descend from
lofty heights and walk the humble earth again,
without repining at the change, come, teach that
mystery to me. Or thou, thou ragged wandering
beggar, who, when thou canst not beg successfully,
will pilfer from the hound, and eat the dirty morsel
sweetly — be thou Lord Clive, and I will beg, so I
may laugh like thee.

Could I unlearn what I've already learned — unact
what I've already acted — or would some sacred
power convey me back to youth and innocence, I'd
act another part — I'd keep within the vale of humble
life, nor wish for what the world calls pomp.

But since this cannot be.

And only a few days and sad remain for me,
•I'll haste to quit the scene; for what is life
"When ev'ry passion of the soul's at strife.

THE AMERICAN CRISIS. — NUMBER ONE.

These are the times that try men's souls: The
summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this
crisis, shrink from the service of his country; but he
that stands it now, deserves the love and thanks of
man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily
conquered; yet we have this consolation With us
that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the
triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too
lightly: — 'Tis dearness only that gives every thing
its value. Heaven knows how to set a proper price
upon its goods; and it would be strange indeed, if
so celestial an article as Freedom should not be

* Some time before his death, lie became very melancholy —
subject to strange imagiuatious — and was found dead at last.—
Author's Note.

THOMAS PAINE.

203

hig'uly rated. Britain, with an army to enforce her
tyranny, has declared, that she has a right (not only
to Tax, but) " to bintd us in all cases whatsoever,"
and if being bound in that manner is not slavery,
then is there not siuh a thing as slavery upon earth.
Even the expression is impious, for so unlimited a
power can belong only to God.

Whether the Independence of the Continent was
declared too soon, or delayed too long, I will not
now enter into as an argument; my own simple
opinion is, that had it been eight months earlier, it
would have been much better. We did not make a
proper use of last winter, neither could we, while
we were in a dependent state. However, the fault,
if it were one, was all our own ; we have none to
blame but ourselves.* But no great deal is lost
yet; all that Howe has been doing for this month
past is rather a ravage than a conquest, which the
spirit of the Jersies a year ago would have quickly
repulsed, and which time and a little resolution will
soon recover.

I have as little superstition in me ns any man
living, but my secret opinion has ever been, and
still is, that God Almighty will not give up a people
to military destruction, or leave them unsupportedly
to perish, who had so earnestly and so repeatedly
sought to avoid the calamities of war, by every
decent method which wisdom could invent. Neither
have I so much of the infidel in me, as to suppose,
that He has relinquished the government of the
world, and given us up to the care of devils ; and as
I do not, I cannot see on what grounds the king of
Britain can look up to heaven lor help against us: A
common murderer, a highwayman, or a house-
breaker, has as good a pretence as he.

'Tis surprising to see how rapidly a panic will
sometimes run through a country. All nations and
ages have been subject to them: Britain has trem-
bled like an ague at the report of a French fleet of
flat bottomed boats ; and in the fourteenth century
the whole English army, after ravaging the kingdom
of France, was driven back like men petrified with
fear; and this brave exploit was performed by a
few broken forces collected and headed by a woman,
Joan of Arc. Would that Heaven might inspire
some Jersey Maid to spirit up her countrymen, and
6ave her fair fellow-sufferers from ravage and ravish-
ment! Yet panics, in some cases, have their uses;
they produce as much good as hurt. Their dura-
tion is always short; the mind soon grows thro'
them, and acquires a firmer habit than before. But
their peculiar advantage is, that they are the
touchstones of sincerity and hypocrisy, and bring
things and men to light, which might otherwise
have Iain for ever undiscovered. In fact, they
have the same effect on secret traitors, which an
imaginary apparition would upon a private mur-
derer. They sift out the hidden thoughts of man,
and hold them up in public to the world. Many a
dignified Tory has lately shewn his head, that shall
penitentially solemnize with curses the day on which
Howe arrived upon the Delaware.

As I was with the troops at Fort Lee, and marched
with them to the edg; of Pennsylvania, I am well
acquainted with many circumstances, which those,
who lived at a distance, know but little or nothing
of. Our situation there was exceedingly cramped,
the place being on a narrow neck of land between

* "The present winter" (meaning the last) "Is worth an
age, if lightly employed, but if lost, or neglected, the whole
Continent will partake of the evil; and there is no punishment
that man does not deserve, be he who, or what, or where he
will, that may be the means of sacrificing a season so precious
and useful." — Author's Nota.

the North River and the Hackensnck. Our force
was inconsiderable, being not oue fourth so great as
Howe could bring against us. We had no army at
hand to have relieved the garrison, had we shut
ourselves up and stood on the defence. Our ammu-
nition, light artillery, and the best part of our
stores, had been removed upon the apprehension
that Howe would endeavour to penetrate the Jer-
sies, in which case Fort Lee could be of no use to
us ; for it must occur to every thinking man,
whether in the army or not, that these kind of field
forts are only for temporary purposes, and last in
use no longer, than the enemy directs his force
against the particular object, which such forts are
raised to defend. Such was our situation nnd con-
dition at Fort Lee on the morning of the 20th of
November, when an officer arrived with informa-
tion, that the enemy with 200 boats had landed
about seven or eight miles above: Major-General
Green, who commanded the garrison, immediately
ordered them under arms, and sent express to his
Excellency General Washington at the town of
Hackensnck, distant by the way of the ferry six
miles. Our first object was to secure the bridge
over the Hackensaek, which laid up the river be-
tween the enemy and us, about six miles from us
and three from them. General Washington arrived
in about three quarters of an hour, and marched at
the head of the troops towards the bridge, which
place I expected we should have a brush for; how-
ever, they did not chuse to dispute it with us, and
the greatest part of our troops went over the bridge,
the rest over the ferry, except some which passed at
a mill on a small creek, between the bridge and the
ferry, and made their way through some marshy
grounds up to the town of Hackensaek, and there
passed the river. We brought off as much baggage
as the waggons could contain, the rest was lost.
The simple object was to bring off the garrison, and
to march them on till they could be strengthened by
the Jersey or Pennsylvania militia, so as to be
enabled to make a stand. We staid four days at
Newark, collected in our out-posts, with some of the
Jersey militia, and marched out twice to meet the
enemy on information of their being advancing,
though our numbers were greatly inferior to theirs.
Howe, in my little opinion, committed a great error
in generalship, in not throwing a body of forces off
from Staatan Island through Amboy, by which
means he might have seized all our stores at Bruns-
wick, and intercepted our march into Pennsylvania:
But, if we believe the power of hell to be limited,
we must likewise believe that their agents are under
some providential eontroul.

I shall not now attempt to give all the particulars
of our retreat to the Delaware ; suffice it for tho
present to say, that both officers and men, though
greatly harassed and fatigued, frequently without
rest, covering, or provision, the inevitable conse-
quences of a long retreat, bore it with a manly and
a martial spirit. All their wishes were one, which
was, that the country would turn out and helr> them
to drive the enemy back. Voltaire has emarked,
that King William never appeared to full : dvantage
but in difficulties and in action; the samt remark
may be made on General Washington, for I e cha-
racter fits him. There is a natural firmness in some
minds which cannot be unlocked by trifles, but
which, when unlocked, discovers a cabinet of forti-
tude; and I reckon it among those kind of public
blessings, which we do not immediately see, that
God hath blest him with uninterrupted health, nnd
given him a mind that can even flourish upon care.

I shall conclude this paper with some miscellaneous
remarks on the state of our affairs ; and shall begin

204

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

with asking the following question, Why is it that
the enemy hath left the New England provinces,
and made these middle ones the seat of war? The
answer is easy : Hew England is not infested with
Tories, and we are. I have been tender in raising
the cry against these men, and used numberless
arguments to shew them their danger, but it will
not do to sacrifice a world to either their folly or
their baseness. The period is now arrived, in which
either they or we must change our sentiments, or one
or both must fall. And what is a Tory ? Good
God! what is he? I should not be afraid to go
with a hundred Whigs against a thousand Tories,
were they to attempt to get into arms. Every Tory
is a coward, for a servile, slavish, self-interested
fear is the foundation of Toryism ; and a man under
such influence, though he may be cruel, never can
be brave.

But before the line of irrecoverable separation be
drawn between us, let us reason the matter to-
gether : Your conduct is an invitation to the enemy,
yet not one in a thousand of you has heart enough
to join him. Howe is as much deceived by you as
the American cause is injured by you. He expects
you will all take up arms, and flock to his standard
with muskets on your shoulders. Your opinions are
of no use to him, unless you support him personally;
for 'tis soldiers, and not Tories, that he wants.

I once felt all that kind of anger, which a man
ought to feel, against the mean principles that are
held by the Tories: A noted one, "who kept a tavern
at Amboj', was standing at his door, with as pretty
a child in Ins hand, about eight or nine years old,
as most I ever saw, and after speaking his mind as
freely as he thought was prudent, finished with this
unfatherly expression, " Well ! give me peace in my
day." Not a man lives on the Continent but fully
believes that a separation must some time or other
finally take place, and a generous parent would have
said, " If there must be trouble, let it be in my day,
that my child may have peace;" and this single
reflection, well applied, is sufficient to awaken every
man to duty. Not a place upon earth might be so
happy as America. Her situation is remote from
all the wrangling world, and she has nothing to do
but to trade with them. A man may easily distin-
guish in himself between temper and principle, and
I am as confident, as I am that God governs the
world, that America will never be happy till she
gets clear of foreign dominion. Wars, without
ceasing, will break out till that period arrives, and
the Continent must in the end be conqueror; for,
though the flame of liberty may sometimes cease to
shine, the coal never can expire.

America did not, nor does not, want force ; out
she wanted a proper application of that force.
Wisdom is not the purchase of a day, and it is no
wonder that we should err at first setting off. From
an excess of tenderness, we were unwilling to raise
an army, and trusted our cause to the temporary
defence of a well meaning militia. A summer's
experience has now taught us better; vet with
those troops, while they were collected, we were
able to set bounds to the progress of the enemy, and
thank God! they are again assembling. I always
considered a militia as the best troops in the world
for a sudden exertion, but they will not do for a
long campaign. Howe, it is probable, will make an
attempt on this city ; should he fail on this side the
Delaware, he is ruined; if he succeeds, our cause is
not ruined. He stakes all on his side against a part
on ours ; admitting he succeeds, the consequence
will be, that armies from both ends of the Continent
will march to assist their suflering friends in the
middle States : for he cannot go every where, it is

impossible. I consider Howe as the greatest enemy
the Tories have ; he is bringing a war into their
country, which, had it not been for him and partly
for themselves, they had been clear of. Should he
now be expelled, I wish, with all the devotion of a
Christian, that the names of Whig and Tory may
never more be mentioned ; but should the Tories
give him encouragement to come, or assistance if
he come, I as sincerely wish that our next year's arms
may expel them from the Continent, and the Congress
appropriate their possessions to the relief of those who
have suffered in well doing. A single successful bat-
tle next year will settle the whole. America could
carry on a two years' war by the confiscation of the
property of disaffected persons, and be made happy by
their expulsion. Say not that this is revenge, call it
rather the 6oft resentment of a suffering people, who.
having no object in view but the good of all, have
staked their own all upon a seemingly doubtful
event. Yet it is folly to argue against determined
hardness; eloquence may strike the ear, and the
language of sorrow draw forth the tear of compas-
sion, but nothing can reach the heart that is steeled
with prejudice.

Quitting this class of men, I turn with the warm
ardour of a friend to those who have nobly stood,
and are yet determined to stand the matter out- I
call not upon a few, but upon all , not on this State
or that State, but on every State . up and help us ;
lay your shoulders to the wheel . better have too
much force than too little, when so great an object
is at stake. Let it be told to the future world, that
in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and
virtue could survive, that the city and the country,
alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet
and to repulse it. Say not, that thousands are gone,
turn out your tens of thousands ; throw not the
burthen of the day upon Providence, but, " shew
your faith by your works," that God may bless you.
It matters not where you live, or what rank of life
you hold, the evil or the blessing will reach you all.
The far and the near, the home counties and the
back, the rich and the poor, shall suffer or rejoice
alike. The heart that feels not now, is dead: The
blood of his children shall curse his cowardice, who
shrinks back at a time when a little might have
saved the whole, and made them happy. I love the
man that can smile in trouble, that can gather
strength from distress, and grow brave by reflection.
'Tis the business of little minds to shrink ; but he
whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves
his conduct, will pursue his principles unto death.
My own line of reasoning is to myself as strait and
clear as a ray of light. Not all the treasures of the
world, so far as I believe, could have induced me to
support an offensive war, for I think it murder ;, but
if a thief break into my house, burn and destroy my
property, and kill or threaten to kill me. or those
that are in it, and to " bind me in all cases whatso*
ever," to his absolute will, am I to suffer it? What
signifies it to me, whether he who does it, is a king
or a common man ; my countryman or not my
eemtryman? whether it is done by an individual
vllain, or an army of them? If we reason to the
root of things we shall find no difference ; neither
can any just cause be assigned why we should
punish in the one case, and pardon in the other.
Let them call me rebel and welcome, I feel no con-
cern from it; but I should suffer the misery of
devils, were I to make a whore of my soul by
swearing allegiance to one, whose character is that
of a sottish, stupid, stubborn, worthless, brutish
man. I conceive likewise a horrid idea in receiving
mercy from a being, who at the last day shall be
shrieking to the rocks and mountains to cover him,

THOMAS PAINE.

205

and fleeing with terror from the orphan, the widow,
and the slain of America.

Tiiere are cases which cannot be overdone by
language, and this is one. There are persons too
who see not the full extent of the evil that threatens
them; they solace themselves with hopes that the
enemy, if they succeed, will be merciful. It is the
madness of folly to expect mercy from those who
have refused to do justice; and even mercy, where
conquest is the object, is only a trick of war: The
cunning of the fox is as murderous as the violence
of the wolf; and we ought to guard equally against
both. Howe's first object is partly by threats and
partly by promises, to terrify or seduce the people
to deliver up their arms, and receive mercy. The
ministry recommended the same plan to Gage, and
this is what the Tories call making their peace ; " a
peace which passeth all understanding," indeed! A
peace which would be the immediate forerunner of
a worse ruin than any we have yet thought of. Ye
men of Pennsylvania, do reason upon those things!
Were the back counties to give up their arms, they
would fall an easy prey to the Indians, who are all
armed : This perhaps is what some Tories would not
be sorry for. Were the home counties to deliver up
their arms, they would be exposed to the resent-
ment of the back counties, who would then have it
in their power to chastise their defection at plea-
sure. .And were any one State to give up its arms,
that State must be garrisoned by all Howe's army
of Britons and Hessians to preserve it from the
anger of the rest. Mutual fear is a principal link
in the chain of mutual love, and woe be to that
State that breaks the compact. Howe is mercifully
inviting you to barbarous destruction, and men
must be either rogues or fools that will not see it.
I dwell not upon the vapours of imagination ; I
bring reason to your ears; and in language, as plain
as A, B, C, holl up truth to your eyes.

I thank God that I fear not. I see no real cause
for fear, I know our situation well, ami can see the
way out of it. While our army was collected,
Howe dared not risk a battle, and it is no credit to
him that he decamped from the White Plains, and
waited a mean opportunity to ravage the defence-
less Jersies ; but it is great credit to us, that, with
an handful of men, Ave sustained an orderly retreat
for near an hundred miles, brought off our ammuni-
tion, all our field-pieces, the greatest part of our
stores, and had four rivers to pass. None can say
that our retreat was precipitate, for we were near
three weeks in performing it, that the country
might have time to come in. Twice we marched
back to meet the enemy and remained out till dark.
The sign of fear was not seen in our camp, and had
not some of the cowardly and disaffected inhabitants
spread false alarms thro' the country, the Jersies had
never been ravaged. Once more we are again col-
lected and collecting ; our new army at both ends
of the Continent is recruiting last, and we shall be
able to open the next campiign with sixty thou-
sand men, well armed and cloathed. This is our
situation, and who will may know it. By persever-
ance and fortitude we have the prospect of a
glorious issue ; by cowardice and submission, the
sad choice of a variety of evils — a ravaged coun-
try— a depopulated city — habitations without
safety, and slavery without hope — our homes turned
into barracks and bawdy-houses for Hessians, and
a future race to provide for whose fathers we
shall doubt of. Look on this picture, and weep
over it! — and if there yet remains one thought-
less wretch who believes it not, let him suffer it
unlamented.

Philadelphia, December 19, 1770.

LIBERTY TREE,

A Song, written early in the American Revolution.
Tune — " Gods of the Greeks."
In a chariot of light, from the regions of day,

The Goddess of Liberty came,
Ten thousand celestials directed her way,

And hither conducted the dame.
A fair budding branch from the gardens above,

Where millions with millions agree,
She brought in her hand as a pledge of her love,

And the plant she named Liberty Tree.

The celestial exotic struck deep in the ground.

Like a native it flourish'd and bore:
The fame of its fruit drew the nations around,

To seek out this peaceable shore.
Unmindful of names or distinctions they came,

For freemen like brothers agree ;
With one spirit endued, they one friendship pur-
sued,

And their temple was Liberty Tree.

Beneath this fair tree, like the patriarchs of old,

Their bread in contentment they ate,
Unvexed with the troubles of silver or gold,

The cares of the grand and the great.
With timber and tar they Old England supplied,

And supported her power on the sea:
Her battles they fought, without getting a groat,

For the honour of Liberty Tree

But hear, 0 ye swains ('tis a tale most profane),

How all the tyrannical powers,
King, commons, and lords, are uniting amain,

To cut down this guardian of ours.
From the east to the west blow the trumpet to
arms,

Thro' the land let the sound of it flee:
Let the far and the near all unite with a cheer,

In defence of our Liberty Tree.

Fr.OM THE CASTLE IN TnE AIR TO THE LITTLE CORNEE OF Tim
WORLD.*

In the region of clouds, where the whirlwinds
arise,

My Castle of Fancy was built ;
The turrets reflected the blue of the skies,

And the windows with sunbeams were gilt.

The rainbow sometimes in its beautiful 6tatc,

Enamell'd the mansion around ;
And the figures that fancy in clouds can create,

Supplied me with gardens and ground.

I had grottoes, and fountains, and orange-tree
groves,
I had all that enchantment has told;
I had sweet shady walks, for the Gods and their
Loves,
I had mountains of coral and gold.

But a storm that I felt not. had risen and roll'd,

While wrapp'd in a slumber I lay ;
And when I look'd out in the morning, behold

My Castle was carried away.

* Mr. Paine, while in prison at Paris, corresponded with a
lady under the signature of ■•The Castle in the Air," while she
addressed her letters from "The Little Corner of the World.
For reafons which he knew not. their intercourse was sud-
denly suspended, and for some time he believed his fair friend
to be in obscurity and distress. Many years afterwards, how-
ever, he met her unexpectedly at Paris, in affluent circum-
stances, and married to Sir Robert Smith. The following is a
copy of one of these poetical effusions. — Note by T/to*. Clio
Itxckman.

206

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

It past over rivers, and vallies, and groves,

The world it was all in my view ;
I thought of rny friends, of their fates, of their
loves,

And often, full often of you.

At length it came over a beautiful scene,

That Nature in silence had made ;
The place was but small, but 'twas sweetly serene.

And chequer'd with sunshine and shade.

I gazed, and I envied with painful goodwill,
And grew tired of rny seat in the air;

When all of a sudden my Castle stood still,
As if some attraction was there.

Like a lark from the sky it came fluttering down.

And placed me exactly in view,
When who should I meet, in this charming retreat,

This corner of calmness, but you.

Delighted to find you in honour and ease,

I felt no more sorrow, nor pain ;
But the wind coming fair, I ascended the breeze,

And went back with my Castle again.

ETHAN ALLEN.

Ethan Allen", the herd of Vermont, wasas proud
of his literature as of his personal vigor and gene-
ralship. Indeed, no small part of the former was
put into his writings. He wrote as lie acted, a
word ami a blow. For a certain quick intense
conception of things, the uninstructed physique
of the mind, his narrative of his captivity is a
model, like his own figure, of rude, burly strength.
It is to be regretted that he did not choose a better
provitice for the exercise of his intellect in his
main work than a low form of infidelity and vul-
gar attack upon the Christian religion.

Ethan Allen, the son of a farmer in Connecti-
cut, was born at Coventry in that state, Jan. 10,
1737. He removed to Vermont about the year
1772, and became the stalwart leader of the Green
Mountain Boys in their resistance to the territo-

rial claims of New York. His brilliant surprisal
of Ticonderoga, in 1775, "in the name of the great
Jehovah and of the Continental Congress" need
hardly be mentioned here. It was probably the
success of that adventure which led to the rash
attempt upon Montreal, where he was taken

prisoner; a captivity which gave rise to his au-
thorship of a volume which contains as much of
the essence of military revolutionary whigismand
anti-toryism, as it is possible to convey in the
same space. This work tells a sad story of the lack
of gallantry and of the oppression of the British
service at that time. A prisoner taken in war by
the English seems to have been regarded as
something between an enemy and a convict, not
entitled to the honorable courtesy due to the
one, and not exactly responsible to the gallows
assigned for the other. The intermediate term
was a rebel, and the respect for consanguinity
which England should have shown in the strug-
gle, was lost in the contempt of familiarity — as an
old-fashioned father would whip his own children
and reverence those of other persons. In this
humor of his conquerors, Allen was taken from
Montreal confined hand and feet in irons, carried
on board the Gaspee schooner-of-war, taken from
Quebec to Liverpool in a government vessel, suf-
fering the accommodations of a slave ship, landed
with indignity at Falmouth ; was kept a prisoner
and a show at Pendennis castle ; removed to the
Solebay frigate, which putting into Cork, the
stores which tender-hearted Irish friends sent
him were confiscated for the use of the vessel;
was brought to the coast of America, and kept
in various degrees of restraint, latterly under free-
dom of parole at New York, till the victory of
Saratoga brought about his release in 1778. He
published the narrative of his captivity in the fol-
lowing year.

A few sentences of this production will show
the man in the author. It opens directly with
the affair of Ticonderoga : — " Ever since I arrived
at the state of manhood, and acquainted myself
with the general history of mankind, I have felt
a sincere passion for liberty." For a vivid pic-
ture of a personal encounter at a critical moment,
witness his defence of himself against an Indian
before Montreal, by seizing a British officer for a
shield, and holding him before him : —

The officer I capitulated with, then directed me
and my party to advance towards him, which was
done ; I handed him my sword, and in half a mi-
nute after, a savage, part of whose head was shaved,
being almost naked and painted, with feathers in-
termixed with the hair of the other side of his head,
came running to me with an incredible swiftness ; he
seemed to advance with more than mortal speed; as
he approached near me, his hellish visage was be-
yond all description ; snake's eyes appear innocent
in comparison to his; his features extorted; malice,
death, murder, and the wrath of devils and damned
spirits are the emblems of his countenance ; and in
less than twelve feet of me, presented his firelock;
at the instant of his present, I twitched the officer,
to whom 1 gave my sword, between nro and the
savage ; but lie flew round with great fury, trying to
single me out to shoot me without killing the officer;
but by this time I was nearly as nimble as he, keep-
ing the officer in such a position that his danger was
my defence ; but, in less than half a minute, I was
attacked by just such another imp of hell : Then I
made the officer fiy around with incredible velocity,
for a few seconds of time, when I perceived a Cana-
dian, who had lost one eye, as appeared afterwards,
taking my part against the savages; and in an in-
stant an Irishman came to my assistance with a fixed
bayonet, and drove away the fiends, swearing by

ETHAN ALLEN.

207

he would kill them. This tragic scene compos-
ed my mind. The escaping from so awful a death
made even imprisonment happy ; the more so as my
conquerors 0:1 the field treated me with great civili-
ty and politeness.

We hardly need his assurance, that while con-
fined on hoard the Gaspee schooner in irons, he
was " obliged to throw out plenty of extravagant
language, which answered certain purposes at that
time, better than to grace a history." The non-
chalant humor of the man was defiant even of
death. " The cause," says he, " I was engaged in
I ever viewed worthy hazarding my life for, nor
was I, in the most critical moments of trouble,
sorry that I engaged in it ; and, as to the world
of spirits, though I knew nothing of the mode and
manner of it, I expected nevertheless, when I
should arrive at such a world, that I should be as
well treated as other gentlemen of my merit."
His characters of those about him show a subtle
knowledge of human nature, as this hint at a fool
in authority : " I now found myself under a worse
captain than Symonds, for Montague was loaded
with prejudices against every body and every
thing that was not stamped with royalty ; and
being by nature underwitted, his wrath was hea-
vier than the others ; or at least his mind was in no
instance liable to be directed by good sense, humor,
or bravery, of which Symonds was by turns sus-
ceptible." His account of Loring, the British
commissary of prisoners in the days of prison-
ships at New York, is in his strongest manner.

This Loring is a monster ! — There is not his like
in human shape. He exhibits a smiling countenance,
seems to wear a phiz of humanity, but has been in-
strumentally capable of the most consummate acts of
wickedness, which were first projected by an aban-
doned British council clothe I with the authority of
a Howe, murdering premeditatedly, in cold biood,
near or quiLe two thousand helpless prisoners, and
that in the most clandestine, mean, and shameful
manner, at New York. He is the most mean spirit-
ed, cowardly, deceitful, and destructive animal in
God's creation below, and regions of infernal devils,
with all their tremendous horrors, are impatiently
ready to receive Howe and him, with all their detes-
table accomplices, into the most exquisite agonies of
the hottest region of hell tire.

Probably the British were as glad to part with
a gentleman who could employ his tongue as pow-
erfully as Ids sword, when he was denied the lat-
ter weapon, as Allen was to be released by Elias
Boudinot, sent by Congress for the service, and
fall into the open arms of General Washington,
at Valley Forge, "with peculiar marks of his
approbation and esteem." It is told of one of
Allen's word encounters with a British officer,
that the latter replied to his challenge, to pro-
duce another woman who had seven such sons as
his mother — that Mary Magdalene was a case in
point, who was also delivered of seven devils.

His interview with Bivington, the pleasure-
loving king's printer at New York, during his
parole, is characteristic of both parties. Biving-
ton had offended him by his allusions, and Allen
swore " he would lick him the very first opportu-
nity he had." The sequel is told by Bivington
himself. " I was sitting," says he, " after a good
dinner, alone, with my bottle of Madeira before

me, when I heard an unusual noise in the street,
and a huzza from the boys. I was in the second
story, and, stepping to the window, saw a tall
figure in tarnished regimentals, with a large
cocked hat and an enormous long sword, followed
by a crowd of boys, who occasionally cheered him
with huzzas, of which he seemed insensible. He
came up to my door and stopped. 1 could
see no more. My heart told me it was Ethan
Allen. I shut my window and retired behind
my table and my bottle. I was certain the hour
of reckoning had come. There was no retreat.
Mr. Staples, my clerk, came in paler than ever,
and, clasping his hands, said, " Ma ter, he has
come!" "I know it." "He entered the store
and asked 'if James Bivington lived there?' I
answered, 'Yes, sir.' 'Is he at home?' 'I will
go and see, sir,' I said ; and now, master, what is
to be done? There he is in the store, and the
boys peeping at him from the street." I had
made up my mind. I Linked at the Madeira —
possibly took a glass. "Show him up," said I;
"and if such Madeira cannot mollify him, ho
must be harder than adamant." There was a
fearful moment of suspense. I heard him on the
stairs, his long sword clanking at every step. In
he stalked. "Is your name James Bivington?"
"It is, sir, and no man could be more happy than
I am to see Colonel Ethan Allen." "Sir, I have
come " " Not another word, my dear colo-
nel, until you have taken a seat and a gla~s of
old Madeira." "But, sir, I don't think it proper

" "Not another word, colonel. Taste this

wine. I have had it in glass for ten year.?. Old
wine, you know, unless it is originally sound,
never improves by age." He took the glass,
swallowed the wine, smacked his lips, and shook

his head approvingly. " Sir, I come " "Not

another word until you have taken another glass,
and then, my dear colonel, we will talk of old
affairs, and I have some queer events to detail."
In short, wo finished two bottles of Madeira, and
parted as good friends as if we had never had
cause to be otherwise."*

After his captivity, Allen returned to Vermont,
where he was received with a hearty welcome at
Bennington. He again identified himself with
the history of the independence of Vermont both
against England and the neighboring states, and
after that was secured in 1791, lived mostly in
retirement, composing his infidel work, Reason
the only Oracle o/Manjt which appeared in 1784.

* Dc Puy's Ethan Allen, p. 2f2.

t Reason the only Oracle of Man. or a compendious system
of natural religion, alternately adorned with confutations of a
variety of doctrines incompatible to it; deduced from the
most exalted ideas which we are able to form of the Divine
and Unman diameters, and from the universe in general.
Svo. pp. 477. Bennington. Vt. 17S4. As the greater portion of
tiiis edition was destroyed by fire in its printing office, and it lias
not been reprinted entire, this is now a very scarce volume.
A mutilated edition appeared about 1849 in New York.

When Graydon was a prisoner in New York in 1777, after
the hiss of Fort Washington, he met Allen, and has left in his
Memoirs a striking account of his impressions of the man.
" His figure was that of a robust, large-framed man, worn
down by confinement and hard fare ; but he was now recover-
ing his flesh and spirits ; and a suit of blue clothes, with a gold
laced hat that had been presented to him by the gentlemen of
Cork, enabled him to make a very passable appearance for a
rebel Colonel. He used to show a fracture in one of his teeth,
occasioned bv his twisting off with it. in a fit of anger, the nail
which fastened the bar of his handcuffs ; and which drew from
one of the astonished spectators the exclamation of "Damn

208

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Of this book, Dr. Dwight, in his Travels, has
remarked that " it was the first formal publication
in the United States, openly directed against the
Christian religion. When it came out, I read as
much of it as I could summon patience to read.
Decent nonsense may possibly amuse an idle hour ;
but brutal nonsense can only be read as an inflic-
tion of penal justice."*

The story of Allen's second marriage, illus-
trating these opinions, is told by his latest bio-
grapher, De Pay, in his interesting and valuable
contribution to the history of Vermont.t

" General Allen, who had at various times
resided at Bennington, Arlington, and Tinmouth,
at last took up his residence on the "Winooski.
During a session of the court at Westminster, he
appeared with a magnificent pair of horses and a
black driver. Chief Justice Robinson and Stephen
R. Bradley, an eminent lawyer, were there, and I
as their breakfast was on the table, they asked
Allen to join them. He replied that he had
breakfasted, and while they were at the table, he
would go in and see Mrs. Buchanan, a handsome
widow who was at the house. He entered the
sitting-room, and at once said to Mrs. Buchanan,
' Well, Fanny, if we are to be married, let us be
about it.' ' Very well,' she promptly replied,
' give me time to fix up.' In a few minutes she
was ready, and Judge Robinson was at once I
called upon by them to perform the customary
ceremony. Said Allen, 'Judge, Mrs. Buchanan
and I have concluded to be married ; I don't care
much about the ceremony, and as near as I can
find out, Fanny cares as little for it a.s I do ; but as
a decent respect for the customs of society requires
it of us, we are willing to have the ceremony
performed.' The gentlemen present were much
surprised, and Judge Robinson replied, ' General
Allen, this is an important matter; have you
thought seriously of it ? ' ' Yes, yes,' exclaimed
Allen, looking at Mrs. Buchanan; 'but it don't
require much thought.' Judge Robinson then rose
from his seat and said, ' Join your hands together.
Ethan Allen, you take this woman to be your
lawful and wedded wife : you promise to love and

protect her according to the law of God and '

' Stop, stop, Judge. The law of God,' said Allen,
looking forth upon the fields, ' all nature is full of
it. Yes, go on. My team is at the door.' As

him, can lie cat iron [" * * * TTis style was a singular com-
pound of local barbarisms, scriptural phrases, and oriental
wildness; and though uuclassic and sometimes ungrammatical,
it was highly animated and forcible. In the following sentence
of his narrative, though it is not perhaps strictly correct in its
construction, there is to me, a flash of moral pathos not
unworthy a Robertson. l When the fleet,' says he, ' consisting
of about forty-five sail, including five men-of-war, sailed from
the cove (of Cork) with a fresh breeze, the appearance was
beautiful, abstracted from the unjust and bloody designs they
had in view.' Notwithstanding that Allen might have had
something of the insubordinate, lawless frontier spirit in his
composition, having been in a state of hostility with the
government of New York before the war of the revolution, he
appeared to me to be a man of generosity and honor; several
instances of which occur in his publication, and one not
equivocally came under my own observation. General Wash-
ington, speaking of him in an official letter of May the 12th,
1783, observes, with a just discrimination, that there was an
original something in him which commanded admiration," —
Gravdon's Memoirs, 243.

* II. 4(16.

t Kthan Allen and the Green Mountain Heroes of '76, with a
sketch of the Early History of Vermont, by Henry W. De
Puy, author of "Louis Napoleon and his Times," "Kossuth,"
&c. Buffalo. Phinney & Co., 1S53.

soon as the ceremony was ended, General Allen
and his bride entered his carriage and drove off."

Two anecdotes of Allen show the best nature
of the man. He once gave a note to a citizen of
Boston, who put it in collection in Vermont.
Judgment was about being taken, when Allen
employed a lawyer to stay proceedings. To his
surprise, he heard, from a distant part of the
court-house, his lawyer deny the signature; upon
which he rushed forward, and in a loud, indignant

tone, confronted him : " Mr. , I didn't hire

you to come here and lie. That is a true note.
I signed it ; I'll swear to it ; and I'll pay it ! I
want no shuffling. I want time. What I em-
ployed you for, was to get this business put over
to the next court ; not to come here and lie and
juggle about it."* This proves his honor;
another instance shows his humanity. When two
children, daughters of a settler, were once lost in
the woods of Vermont, search was made for
them by the townspeople and given up. Allen
mounted a stump, made an eloquent, pathetic
appeal, rallied the company for a new expedition,
and the children were restored to their parents.
Another anecdote is somewhat ludicrous, but
energetic. While at Tinmouth, he was one day
in the house of the village physician when a lady
was present for the purpose of having a tooth
drawn. As often as the doctor was ready, the
lady's timidity baulked his operations. Allen's
big nature grew restive at the sight. "Here,
Doctor, take out one of my teeth." " But your
teeth are all sound." " Never mind. Do as I
direct you." Out came a tooth. " Now, madam,"
says Allen to the lady, " take courage from the
example." He once threatened to apply the
airgumcntum ad liominem in this novel form on a
somewhat larger scale. A man had been con-
victed of supplying the British with provisions,
and been sentenced by a jury of six to be hung.
A lawyer interposed for a new trial, as twelve
must constitute a legal jury. The public was dis-
appointed at the reprieve. Allen addressed them
with an oath, advising to wait for the day next
appointed, promising-^" You shall see somebody
hung at all events ; for if Redding is not then
hung, I will be hung myself.''t

It was not long after the time of these stories,
in the full possession of his powers, at the age
of fifty, he was cut off suddenly by apoplexy, at
Burlington, Vermont, February 12, 1789.

A brother of Ethan Allen, Ira Allen, wrote the
Natural and Political History of the State of
Vermont, published in an octavo volume in 1798.

CONQUEST OF TICONDEEOGA.

Ever since I arrived at the state of manhood, and
acquainted myself with the general history of man-
kind, I have felt a sincere passion for liberty. The
history of nations, doomed to perpetual slavery, in
consequence of yielding up to tyrants their natural-
born liberties, I read with a sort of philosophical
horror; so that the first systematical and bloody
attempt, at Lexington, to enslave America,
thoroughly electrified my mind, and fully deter-

* Lossing's Field Book, i. 180.

t De Puy, p. 392, who vouches for the authenticity of tho
two last stories. He shows reason to doubt the common story
of the message sent by Aliens daughter to him on her death-
bed.

FRANCIS HOPKINSON.

209

mined me to take part with my country. And,
while I was wishing for an opportunity to signalize
myself in its behalf, directions were privately sent
to me from the then colony (now state) of Connecti-
cut, to raise the Green-Mountain Boys, and, if possi-
ble, with them to surprise and take the fortress of
Ticonderoga. This enterprise I cheerfully undertook ;
and, after tirst guarding all the several passes that
led thither, to cut off all intelligence between the
garrison and the country, made a forced march from
Bennington, and arrived at the lake opposite to
Ticonderoga, on the evening of the ninth day of May,
1775, with two hundred and thirty valiant Green-
Mountain Boys; and it was with the utmost diffi-
culty that I procured boats to cross the lake. How-
ever, I landed eighty-three men near the garrison,
and sent the boats ha:k for the rear-guard, com-
manded by Col. Seth Warner, but the day began to
dawn, and I found myself under the necessity to
attack the fort, before the rear could cross the lake;
and, as it was viewed hazardous, I harangued the
officers and soldiers in the manner following; —

" Friends ami fellow soldiers — You have for a num-
ber of years past been a scourge and terror to
arbitrary power. Your valor has been famed abroad,
and acknowledged, as appears by the advice and
orders to me, from the General Assembly of Con-
necticut, to surprise and take the garrison now
before us. I now propose to advance before you,
and, in person, conduct you through the wicket-
gate; for we must this morning either quit our pre-
tensions to valor, or possess ourselves of this fortress
in a few minutes; and, inasmuch as it is a desperate
attempt, which none but the bravest of men dare
undertake, I do not urge it on any contrary to his
wilL You that will undertake voluntarily, poise
your firelocks."

The men being, at this time, drawn up in three
ranks, each poised his firelock. I ordered them to
face to the right, and at the iiead of the centre-file,
marched them immediately to the wicket-gate afore-
said, where I found a sentry posted, who instantly
snapped his fusee at me ; I ran immediately towards
him, and he retreated through the covered way into
the parade within the garrison, gave a halloo, and
ran under a bomb-proof. My party, who followed
me into the fort, I formed on the parade in such a
manner as to face the two barracks which faced
each other.

The garrison being asleep, except the sentries, we
gave three huzzas which greatly surprised them.
One of the sentries made a pass at one of my offi-
cers with a charge'l bayonet, and slightly wounded
him: My first thought was to kill him with my
sword; but, in an instant, I altered the design and
fury of tin' blow to a slight cut on the side of the
head, upon which he dropped his gun, and asked
quarter, -which I readily granted him, and demanded
of him the place where the commanding officer kept;
he shewed me a pair of stairs in the front of a bar-
rack, on the west part of the garrison, which led up
to a second story m said barrack, to which I imme-
diately repaired, and ordered the commander, Capt.
De la Place, to come forth instantly, or I would
sacrifice the whole garrison ; at which the Capt.
came immediately to the door, with his breeches in
his hand; when I ordered him to deliver me the fort
instantly; he asked me by what authority I
demanded it: I answered him, "In the name of the
Great Jehovah, and the Continental Congress." The
authority of the Congress being very little known
at that time, he began to speak again ; but I inter-
rupted him, and with my drawn sword over his
head, again demanded an immediate surrender of
the garrison: with which he then complied, and

vol. I. — 14

ordered his men to be forthwith paraded without
arms, as he had given up the garrison. In the mean
time some of my officers had given orders, and in
consequence thereof, sundry of the barrack doors
were beat down, and about one third of the garri-
son imprisoned, which consisted of the said com-
mander, a Lieut. Feltlmm, a conductor of artillery,
a gunner, two Serjeants, and forty-four rank and file;
about one hundred pieces of cannon, one thirteen
inch mortar, and a number of swivels. This sur-
prise was carried into execution in the grey of the
morning of the tenth of May, 1775. The sun seemed
to rise that morning with a superior lustre; and
Ticonderoga and its dependencies smiled to its con-
querors, who tossed about the flowing bowl, and
wished success to Congress, and the liberty and free
dom of America.

FEAMCIS nOPKINSOX.
Hopkixsox, the author of The Pretty Story,
and the famous ballad, The Battle of the Kerjn,
was one of the prime wits of the Revolution, and
may be ranked alongside of Trumbull for his effi-
ciency in the cause. The genius of the two men
may be readily distinguished. They had wit and
humor in different combinations. The author of
MTiiigal had more of the power, Hopkinson a
larger proportion of that gentle quality whicli
plays around the heart. The one had the advan-
tage in verse, the other in prose. The works of
both remain eminent ornaments of the literature
of their country. We have had nothing better in
their way since.

aSc^LcYi ^SZ^CTi.

^<>

Francis Hopkinson was born in Philadelphia in
1738. His father, Thomas, was an Englishman,
wlio emigrated to that city, having secured, it is
said, government patronage through his marriage
with the niece of the Bishop of Worcester. He
assisted Franklin in his discoveries in electricity,
and actively promoted the liberal improvements
of the day. Upon his death his widow directed
the education of the son who was sent to the Col-
lege, since the University of Pennsylvania. He
afterwards studied law. In 1701 he served as
secretary in a conference held on the banks of the
Lehigh, between the government of Pennsylvania
and several Indian nations. One of his former

210

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

The Treaty, celebrates the event. In 17G5 he
was in England, remaining there two years, and
passing his time between town and country. On
his return to America he resided at Bordentown,
New Jersey, where he married Miss Ann Borden
of that place. His Pretty Story, written in
the fashion of Arbuthnot's John Bull, though in a
milder vein, was published with great success in
a pamphlet in 1774. It represents England as a
nobleman, possessed of a valuable farm, and with
a great number of children and grandchildren, for
the government of whom he had entered into
various compacts. Parliament is represented as
his wife, chosen for him every seven years by the
family. The fortunes of the American settlers are
depicted, and the encroachments of parliament
none the less forcibly presented in the humorous
description. The chapters end with a br> 'ken pro-
phetic sentence : " These harsh and unconstitu-
tional proceedings of the overseer so highly irri-
tated Jack, and the other families of the new farm,
that******. Cetera desunt." The author's " Pro-
phecy," in 1776, and "Political Catechism" in
1777, helped to work out the sequel. The latter
is a set of queries and answers respecting Lord
North and the conduct of the war, ending with a
tribute to "Washington. " Who has the chief
command of the American army?" " His Excel-
lency General Washington!" " What is his cha-
racter?" "To him the title of Excellency is
applied with peculiar propriety. He is the best
and the greatest man the world ever knew. In
private life lie wins the hearts and wears the love
of all who are so happy as to fall within the circle
of his acquaintance. In his public character he
commands universal respect and admiration.
Conscious that the principles on which he acts are
indeed founded in virtue and truth, he steadily
.pursues the arduous work with a mind neither
depressed by disappointment and difficulties, nor
elated with temporary success. He retreats like
a General, and attacks like a Hero. Had he lived
in the days of idolatry he had been worshipped as
a God. One age cannot do justice to his merit;
but a grateful posterity shall, for a succession of
ages, remember the great deliverer of his coun-
try." Hopkinson represented New Jersey in the
general Congress of 1770, and signed the Declara-
tion of Independence. His Battle of the Kegs,
written about this time, and celebrating an actual
incident, has been the most popular of American
Revolutionary ballads. His humorous handling
of Rivington, the royal printer at New York, is
among his best political squibs.

When the war was concluded, a new general
government was to be established and local diffi-
culties overcome. Hopkinson 's pen here achieved
some of its greatest triumphs in exposing the dis-
sensions and absurdities of state politicians. His
New Roof, an allegory, containing in substance
the arguments of the debate in the Convention
of Pennsylvania in 1787, met to consider the
Constitution of the United States, is a masterly
production, and his song on the subject has hap-
pily preserved its spirit in verse.

His sharp raillery in his essays did much to miti-
gate the excessive litigation and newspaper con-
troversies of the day. In his Typographical Mode
of Conducting a Quarrel lie anticipated Southey's
tiidiion of telling his Bear story in the Doctor,

by gradations of type. The paper made two
belligerents of the day, a merchant and a lawyer,
who were oppressing the public in the newspapers,
ridiculous. It proposed a new style of printing for
different degrees of abuse and invective — various
t3*pe, from five line pica to minion, through
French canon downwards. " There is no look-
ing," says he, "at the first page of the Daily Ad-
vertiser, without imagining a number of people
hollowing and bawling to j-ou to buy their goods
or lands, to charter their ship's, or to inform you
that a servant or a horse hath strayed away.
For my part, I am so possessed with this idea,
that as soon as I take up the paper of the da}-, I
turn over to articles of intelligence as quick as
possible, lest my eyes should be stunned by the
ocular uproar of the first page." His Tlioughts
on the hisease of the Mind ; with a scheme for
purging the moral faculties of the good people of
Pennsylvania, proposes that a weekly and daily
newspaper should be expressly set apart and ac-
knowledged as receptacles for all the filth and
scandal of the town. The treatment is rather
Swiftian, in occasional coarseness, but the satire
is truthful. He compares the humors of the
mind to the secretions of the body: "A sarcasm
is nothing more than spitting, — and so it is usual
to say, 'he has spit his spite.' A crude attempt
at humor is parallel with blowing one's nose, for
such humors are apt to collect in cold constitu-
tions ; and a young poetaster may be put into a
considerable perspiration by the scorching flames
of love." Hopkinson was a reformer in the cause
of education, and wrote various papers laughing
at its grammatical, metaphysical, and scientific
perplexities. His Modern Learning : exemplified
by a spiecimen of a collegiate examination, in
which a salt-box is put through the various cate-
gories of the sciences, is the best of his papers
of this class. In his sketches of the minor
morals and manners of the day, he was equally
happy. His Essay on White-Washing was mis-
taken for the composition of Franklin, and pub-
lished among his writings. His friend, Dr. Push,
was a great admirer of his genius in these pro-
ductions.

Hopkinson took pride in his share in planning
the grand Fourth of July Federal Procession
at Philadelphia, in 1788; a minute account of
which he prepared and has left in his writings.
In 1779 he was made Judge of the Admiralty of
Pennsylvania. His decisions while in office were
collected by him for the edition of his writings.
In 1790 he was appointed by the President,
Judgeof the District Court. He died the follow-
ing year, May 9, of an apoplectic fit. Before his
death he had prepared the carefully arranged
collection of his literary productions for the press,
which was published by Dobson in Philadelphia,
"in the dress in which he left them," in three
octavo volumes in 1792, hearing the title: The
Miscellaneous Essays and Occasional Writings
of Francis Hopkinson, Esq. A more finbhed and
: accomplished work has never issued from the
American press.

The prose of Hopkinson is quite unique and
original ; simple in style, and ingenious in thought
and invention ; always neat and elegant in expres-
sion, and perfect in its gentle playfulness. His
poetry is of an agreeable turn, his I? Allegro and

FRANCIS HOPKINSON.

211

11 Penseroso being familiar adaptations of Mil-
ton. Ili.s constant sensibility frequently becomes
eloquent ; and las verses have many ingenious
passages. Many of his poems are occasional ad-
dresses to the fair, in which the charms of Delia
and Rosalinda have every attention paid to them.

In person, Eopkinson is described as a lively
man, a little below the common size, with small
but animated features.* He had many general
accomplishments, in music, painting, and conver-
sation. As a kindly trait of his character, it is
told that he had a pet mouse which would come
to him at table, and that his familiar pigeons were
quite famous.T He corresponded on novelties in
science, for which he had a decided taste, with
Franklin and Jefferson. His portrait, from which
our vignette is taken, is painted by Pine.

His son, Joseph Hopkinson, wrote the song,
Hail Columbia.

A LETTER FROM A GENTLEMAN IN AMERICA, TO IIIS FRIEND IN
EUROPE, ON WHITE-WASHING.

Dear Sir. — The peculiar customs of every country
appear to strangers awkward and absurd, but the in-
habitants consider them as very proper and even
necessary. Long habit imposes ou the understand-
ing, and reconciles it to any thing that is not mani-
festly pernicious or immediately destructive.

The religion of a country is scarcely held in
greater veneration than its established customs:
and it is almost as difficult to produce an alteration
in the o.ie as in the other. Any interference of
government for the reformation of national customs,
however trivial and absurd they may be, never fails
to produce the greatest discontent, and sometimes
dangerous convulsions. Of this there are frequent
instances in history. Bad habits are most safely
remove 1 by the same means that established them,
via. by imperceptible gradations, and the constant
example and influence of the higher class of the
people/

We are apt to conclude that the fashions ami man-
ners of our own country are most rational and pro-
per, because the eye and the understanding have
long since been reconciled to them, and we ridicule
or condemn those of other nations on account of
their novelty: yet the foreigner will defend ins
national habits with at least as much plausibility as
we can our own. The truth is, that reason has
little to do in the matter. Customs are for the
most part arbitrary, and one nation has as good a
right to fix its peculiarities as another. It is of no
purpose to talk of convenience as a standard :
every thing becomes convenient by practice and
habit.

1 have read somewhere of a nation (in Africa, I
think) which is governed by twelve counsellors.
When these counsellors are to meet on public busi-
ness, twelve large earthen jars are set in two rows,
and filled with water. The counsellors enter the
apartment one after another, stark naked, and each

* " At Mr. Peale's painter's room I met Mr. Francis Hop-
kinson, late a Mandamus Counsellor of New Jersey, now a
member of the Continental Congress, who. it seems, is a native
el' Philadelphia; a son of a protnonotary of this country, who
was a person much respected. The son was liberally educated,
and is a painter and a poe,t. I have a curiosity to penetrate
a little deeper into the bosom of this curious gentleman. He is
one of your pretty, little, curious, ingenious men. His head is
not bigger than a large apple, less than our friend Pemberton,
or Doctor Simon Tufts. I have not met with anything in
natural history more amusing and entertaining than his per-
sonal appearance — yet he is genteel and well bred, and is very
Social." — John Adams to his wife. Phila. Aug. 21, 1776.

t Delaplaine's Repository, Art. Hopkinson.

leaps into a jar, where he sits up to the chin in
water. When the jars are all filled witli counsellors,
they proceed to deliberate on the great concerns of
the nation. This, to be sure, forms a very grotesque
scene; but the object is to transact the public busi-
ness: they have been accustomed to do it in this
way, and therefore it appears to them the most
rational and convenient way. Indeed, if we con-
sider it impartially, there seems to be no reason
why a counsellor may not be as wise in an earthen
jar as in an elbow chair ; or why the good of the
people may not be as maturely considered in the
one as in the other. ,

The established manners of every country are the
standards of propriety with the people who have
adopted them ; and every nation assumes the right
, of considering all deviations therefrom as barba-
risms and absurdities.

The Chinese have retained their laws and customs
for ages immemorial: and although they have long
had a commercial intercourse with European na-
j tions, and are well acquainted with their improve-
ments in the arts, and their modes of civilization,
yet they are so far from being convinced of any
superiority in the European manners, that their
government takes the most serious measures to pre-
vent the customs of foreigners taking root amongst
them. It employs their utmost vigilance to enjoy
the benefits of commerce, and at the same time guard
against innovations that might affect the charac-
teristic manners of the people.

Since the discovery of the Sandwich islands in the
South-Sea, they have been visited by ships from
several nations ; yet the natives have shown no in-
clination to prefer the dress and maimers of the visi-
tors to their own. It is even probable that they
pity the ignorance of the Europeans they have
6een, as far removed from civilization; and value
themselves on the propriety and' advantage of their
own customs.

There is nothing new in these observations, and I
had no intention of making them when I sat down
to write, but they obtruded themselves upon me.
My intention was to give you some account of the
people of these new states ; but I am not sufficiently
informed for the purpose, having, as yet, seen little
more than the cities of New-York and Philadelphia.
I have discovered but few national singularities
amongst them. Their customs and manners are
nearly the same with those of England, which they
have long been used to copy. For, previous to the
late revolution, the Americans were taught from
their infancy to look up to the English as the pat-
terns of perfection in all things.

I have, however, observed one custom, which, for
aught I know, is peculiar to this country. An ac-
count of it will serve to fill up the remainder of this
sheet, and mny afford you some amusement.

When a young couple are about to enter on the
matrimonial state, a never-failing article in the mar-
riage treaty is, that the lady shall have and enjoy
the free and unmolested exercise of the rights of
white-washing, with all its ceremonials, privileges,
and appurtenances. You will wonder what this
privijege of white-wasthing is. I will endeavor to
give you an idea of the ceremony, as I have seen il
performed.

There is no season of the year in which the lady
may not, if she pleases, claim her privilege; butthr
latter end of May is generally fixed upon for th ■■
purpose. The attentive husband may judge, by cer-
tain prognostics, wdien the storm is nigh at hand. II
the lady grows uncommonly fretful, finds fault wit!
the servants, is discontented with the children, an
complains much of the nastiness of every thing abou

212

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

her: these are symptoms -which ought not to be
neglected, yet they sometimes go off without any
further effect. But if, when the husband rises in
the morning, he should observe in the yard, a wheel-
barrow, with a quantity of lime in it, or should see
certain buckets rilled with a solution of lime in wa-
ter, there is no time for hesitation. He immediately
locks up the apartment or closet where his papers
and private property are kept, and putting the key
.in his pocket, betakes himself to flight. A husband,
however beloved, becomes a perfect nuisance during
this season of female rage. His authority is super-
seded, his commission suspended, and the very
scullion who cleans the brasses in the kitchen be-
comes of more importance than him. He has
nothing for it but to abdicate, for a time, and run
from an evil which he can neither prevent nortnollify.
The husband gone, the ceremony begins. The
walls are stripped of their furniture — paintings,
prints, and looking-glasses lie huddled in heaps
about the floors ; the curtains are torn from their
testers, the beds crammed into windows, chairs and
tables, bedsteads and cradles crowd the .yard; and
the garden fence bends beneath the weight of car-
pets, blankets, cloth cloaks, old coats, under petti-
coats, and ragged breeches. Here may be seen the
lumber of the kitchen, forming a dark and confused
mass for the foreground of the picture ; gridirons and
frying-pans, rusty shovels and broken tongs, joint
stools, and the fractured remains of rush-bottomed
chairs. There a closet has disgorged its bowels —
riveted plates »and dishes, halves of china bowls,
cracked tumblers, broken wine-glasses, phials of for-
gotten physic, papers of unknown powders, seeds
and dried herbs, tops of tea-pots, and stoppers of
departed decanters — from the rag-hole in the garret,
to the rat-hole in the cellar, no place escapes un-
rummaged. It would seem as if the day of general
doom was come, and the utensils of the house were
dragged forth to judgment. In tins tempest, the
words of King Lear unavoidably present themselves,
and might with little alteration be made strictly ap-
plicable.

-Let the great gods

That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads
Find out their enemies now. Tremble thou wretch
That hast within thee undivulged crimes
Unwhipt of jnstice-

-Close pent up guilt,

Rive your concealing continents, and ask
These dreadful summoners grace."

This ceremony completed, and the house tho-
roughly evacuated, the next operation is to smear
the walls and ceilings with brushes, dipped into a
solution of lime called white- wasu; to pour buckets
of water over every floor, and scratch all the par-
titions and wainscots with hard brushes, charged
with soft soap and stone-cutter's sand.

The windows by no means escape the general
deluge. A servant scrambles out upon the pent-
house, at the risk of her neck, and with a mug
in her hand, and a bucket within reach,' dashes
innumerable gallons of water against the glass
panes, to the great annoyance of passengers in the
street.

I have been told that an action at law was once
brought against one of these water nymphs, by a
person who had a new suit of clothes spoiled by
this operation: but after long argument it was de-
termined that no damages could be awarded ; inas-
much as the defendant was in the exercise of a legal
right, and not answerable for the consequences.
And so the poor gentleman was doubly nonsuited ;
for he lost both his suit of clothes and his suit at
law

These smearings and seratchings, these washings
and dashings, being duly performed, the next cere-
monial is to cleanse and replace the distracted furni-
ture. You may have seen a house-raising, or a ship-
launch — recollect, if you can, the hurry, bustle, con-
fusion, and noise of such a scene, and you will have
some idea of this cleansing match. Ihe misfortune
is, that the sole object is to make things clean. It
matters not how many useful, ornamental, or valua-
ble articles suffer mutilation or death under the ope-
ration. A mahogany chair and a carved frame un-
dergo the same discipline ; they are to be made clean
at all events; but their preservation is not worthy
of attention. For instance: a fine large engraving
is laid flat upon the floor; a number of smaller
prints are piled upon it, until the super-incumbent
wreight cracks the lower glass — but this is of no im-
portance. A valuable picture is placed leaning
against the sharp corner of a table; others are made
to lean against that, till the pressure of the whole
forces the corner of the table through the canvas of
the first. The frame and glass of a fine print are to
be cleaned ; the spirit and oil used on this occasion
are suffered to leak through and deface the en-
graving— no matter! If the glass is clean and the
frame shines it is sufficient — the rest is not worthy
of consideration. An able arithmetician hath made
a calculation, founded on long exerience, and proved
that the losses and destruction incident to two
white-washings are equal to one removal, and three
removals equal to one fire.

This cleansing frolic over, matters begin to resume
their pristine appearance: the storm abates, and all
would be well again : but it is impossible that so
great a convulsion in so small a community should
pass over without producing some consequences.
For two or three weeks after the operation, the
family are usually afflicted with sore eyes, sore
throats, or severe colds, occasioned by exhalations
from wet floors and damp walls.

I know a gentleman here who is fond of account-
ing for every thing in a philosophical way. He
considers this, what I call a custom, as a real, period-
ical disease, peculiar to the climate. His train of
reasoning is whimsical and ingenious, but I am not
at leisure to give you the detail. The result was,
that he found the distemper to be incut able; but
after much study, he thought he had discoveted a
method to divert the evil he could not subdue. For
this purpose, he caused a small building, about
twelve feet square, to be erected in his garden, and
furnished with some ordinary chairs and tables, and
a few prints of the cheapest sort. His ho] e was,
that when the white-washing frenzy seized Ihe
females of his family, they might repair to 1his
apartment, and scrub, and scour, and smear lo their
hearts' content; and so spend the violence of the
disease in this out-post, whilst he enjoyed himself in
quiet at head-quarters. But the experiment did
not answer his expectation. It was impossible it
should, since a principal part of the gratification
consists in the lady's having an uncontrolled right
to torment her husband, at least once in every year;
to turn him out of doors, and take the reins of go-
vernment into her own hands.

There is a much better contrivance 4han this of
the philosopher's: which is, to cover the walls of
the house with paper. This is generally done. And
though it does not abolish, it .at least shortens the
period of female dominion. This paper is decorated
with various fancies, and made so ornamental that
the women have admitted the fashion without per-
ceiving the design.

There is also another alleviation of the husband's
distress. He generally has the sole use of a small

FRANCIS IIO?KL\SOX.

213

room or closet for liis books and papers, the key of
which ho is allowed to keep. This is considered as
a privileged place, even in the white-washing sea-
son, and stands like the land of Goshen amidst the
plagues of Egypt. But then he must be extremely
cautious, and ever upon his guard ; for should he in-
advertently go abroad, and leave the key in his
door, the house-maid, who is alwa)Ts on the watdi
for such an opportunity, immediately enters in tri-
umph with buckets, brooms, and brushes — takes
possession of the premises, and forthwith puts all
his books and papers to rights, to his utter con-
fusion, and sometimes serious detriment. I can give
you an instance.

A gentleman was sued at law, by the executors of
a mechanic, on a charge found against him on the
deceased's books to the amount of £30. The de-
fendant was strongly impresse 1 witli a belief that
he had discharged the debt and taken a receipt ;
but as the transaction was of long standing, he
knew not where to find the receipt. The suit went
on in course, and the time approached when judg-
ment should be obtained against him. He then sat
down seriously to examine a large bundle of old
papers, which he had untied and displayed on a
table for the purpose. In the midst of his search he
was suddenly called away on business of impor-
tance. He forgot to lock the door of his room. The
house-maid, who had been long looking for sueh an
opportunity, immediately entered with the usual
implements, and with great alacrity fell to cleaning
the room and putting things to rights. One of the
first objects that struck her eye was the confused
situation of the papers on the table. These, without
delay, she huddled together like so many dirty
knives and forks; but in the action, a small piece
of paper fell unnoticed on the floor, which uu-'
fortunately happened to be the very receipt in
question. As it had no very respectable appear-
ance, it was soon after swept out with the common
dirt of the room, and carried in a dust-pan to the
j-ard. The tradesman had neglected to enter the
credit in his books. The defendant could find
nothing to obviate the* charge, and so judgment
went against him for debt and costs. A fortnight
after the whole was settled, and the money paid,
one of the children found the receipt amongst the
dirt in the yard.

There is also another custom, peculiar to the city
of Philadelphia, and nearly allied with the former.
I mean that of washing the pavements before the
doors every Saturday evening. I at first supposed
this to be a regulation of the police; but, on further
inquiry, I find it is a religious rite preparatory to
the Sabbath : and it is, I believe, the only religious
rite in which the numerous sectaries of this large
city perfectly agree. The ceremony begins about
sunset and continues till ten or eleven at night. It
is very difficult for a stranger to walk the streets on
those evenings. He runs a continual risk of having
a bucket of dirty water dashed against his legs; but
a Philadelphian born is so much accustomed to the
danger that he avoids it with surprising dexterity.
It is from this circumstance that a Philadelphian
may be known any where by a certain skip in his
gait. The streets of New York are paved with
rough stones. Tliese, indeed, are not washed, but
the dirt is so thoroughly swept from between them
that they stand up sharp and prominent, to the
great annoyance of those who are not accustomed
to so rough a path. But habit reconciles every
thing. It is diverting enough to see a Philadelphian
at New York. He walks the street with as much
painful caution as if his toes were covered with
torns, or his feet lamed* by the gout; whilst a New

Yorker, as little approving the plain masonry of
Philadelphia, shuffies along the pavement like a
parrot upon a mahogany table.

It must be acknowledged that the ablutions I
have mentioned are attended with no small incon-
venience; yet the women would not be induced by
any consideration to resign their privilege.

Notwithstanding this singularity, I can give you
the strongest assurances that the women of America
make the most faithful wives, and the most attentive
mothers in the world. And I don't doubt but you
will join me in opinion, that if a married man is
made miserable only for one week in a whole year,
he will have no great cause to complain of the
matrimonial bond.

This letter has run on to a length I did not ex-
pect ; I therefore hasten to assure you that I am as
ever,

June. 1785. Your, (fee. <fec. (fee.

MODERN LEARNING : EXEMPLIFIED BY A SPECIMEN OF A COL-
LEGIATE EXAMINATION.

Metaphysics.

* Pkof. What is a salt-box ?

Stu. It is a box made to contain salt.

Prof. How is it divided ?

Stu. Into a salt-box, and a box of salt.

Phof. Very welll — show the distinction?

Stu. A salt-box may be where there is no salt;
but salt is absolutely necessary to the existence of a
box of salt.

Prof. Are not salt-boxes otherwise divided ?

Stu. Yes : by a partition.

Prof. What is the use of this partition '<

Sru. To separate the coarse salt from the fine.

Prof. How ? — think a little.

Stu. To separate the fine salt from the coarse.

Prof. To be sure : — it is to separate the fine from
I the coarse: but are not salt-boxes yet otherwise
distinguished ?

Stu. Yes : into possible, probable, and positive.

Prof. Define these several kinds of salt-boxes.

Stu. A possible salt-box is a salt-box yet unsold
in the hands of the joiner.

Pkof. Why so?

Stu. Because it hath never yet become a salt-box
in fact, having never had any salt in it; and it may
possibly be applied to some other use.

Prof. Very true : — for a salt-box which never had,
hath not now, and perhaps never may have, auy
salt in it, can only be termed a possible salt-box.
What is a probable salt-box?

Stu. It is a salt-box in the hand of one going to
a shop to buy salt, and who hath six-pence in his
pocket to pay the grocer : and a positive salt-box is
one which hath actually ami bona fide got salt in it.

Peof. Very good : — but is there no instance of a
positive salt-box which hath no salt in it ?

Stu. I know of none.

Prof. Yes: there is one mentioned bv some authors:
it is where a box hath by long use been so impreg-
nated with salt, that although all the salt hath been
long since emptied out, it may yet be called a salt-
box, with the same propriety that we say a salt
herring, salt beef, (fee. And in this sense any box
that may have accidentally, or otherwise, been long
steeped in brine, may be termed positively a salt-
box, although never designed for the purpose of
keeping salt. But tell me, what other division of
salt-boxes do you recollect ?

Stu. They are further divided into substantive and

* Prof, professor; Stu. student; Gov. governor of the insti-
tution.

214

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN -LITERATURE

pendant : a substantive salt-box is that which stands
by itself on the table or dresser ; and a pendant is
that which hangs upon a nail against the wall.

Prof. What is the idea of a salt-box?

Stu. It is that image which the mind conceives
of a salt-box, when no salt-box is present.

Prof. What is the abstract idea of a salt-box ?

Stu. It is the idea of a salt-box, abstracted from
the idea of a box, or of salt, or of a salt-box, or of a
box of salt.

Peof. Very right: — and by these means you ac-
quire a most perfect knowledge of a salt-box : but
tell me, is the idea of a salt-box a salt idea ?

Stu. Not unless the ideal box hath ideal salt in it.

Peof. True: — and therefore an abstract idea can-
not be either salt or fresh ; round or square ; long or
short : for a true abstract idea must be entirely free
of all adjuncts. And this shows the difference be-
tween a salt idea, and an idea of salt. — Is an apti-
tude to hold salt an essential or an accidental pro-
perty of a salt-box ?

Stu. It is essential; but if there should be a crack
in the bottom of the box, the aptitude to spill salt
would be termed an accidental property of that salt-
box.

Prof. Very well ! very well indeed ! — What is the
salt called with respect to the box?

Stu. It is called its contents.

Peof. And why so ?

Stu. Because the cook is content quoad hoc to
find plenty of salt in the box.

Peof. You are very right: — I see you have not
misspent your time: let us now proceed to

Logic.

Peof. How many parts are there in a salt-box ?

Stu. Three. Bottom, top, and sides.

Prof. How many modes are there in salt-boxes ?

Stu. Four. The formal, the substantial, the acci-
dental, and the topsey-turvey.

Peof. Define these several modes.

Stu. The /ormaZ respects the figure or shape of
the box, such as round, square, oblong, and so forth ;
the substantial respects the work of the joiner; and
the accidental depends upon the string by which the
box is hung against the wall.

Peof. Very well. — And what are the consequences
of the accidental mode?

Stu. If the string should break the box would fall,
the salt be spilt, the salt-box broken, and the cook
in a bitter passion : and this is the accidental mode
with its consequences.

Peof. How do you distinguish between the top
and bottom of a salt-box?

Stu. The top of the box is that part which is
uppermost, and the bottom that part which is lowest
in all positions.

Peof. You should rather sny the lowest part is
the bottom, and the uppermost part is the top. — How
is it then if the bottom should be the uppermost ?

Stu. The top would then be the lowermost; and
so the bottom would become the top, and the top
would become the bottom : and this is called the top-
sey-turvey mode, which is nearly allied to the acciden-
tal, and frequently arises from it.

Peof. Very good. — But are not salt-boxes some-
times single and sometimes double ?

Stu. Yes.

Peof. Well, then mention the several combina-
tions of salt-boxes with respect to their having salt
or not.

Stu. They are divided into single salt-boxes
having salt; single salt-boxes having no salt; double
salt-boxes having salt ; double salt^boxes having no

salt ; and single double salt-boxes having salt and
no salt.

Prof. Hold ! hold ! — you are going too far.

Gov. We cannot allow further time for logic,
proceed if you please to

Natural Philosophy.

Peof. Pray, Sir, what is a salt-box?

Stu. It is a combination of matter, fitted, framed,
and joined by the hands of a workman in the form
of a box, and adapted to the purpose of receiving,
containing, and retaining salt.

Peof. Very good. — What are the mechanical
powers concerned in the construction of a salt-box?

Stu. The ax, the saw, the plane, and the hammer.

Peof. How are these powers applied to the pur-
pose intended ?

Stu. The ax to fell the tree, the saw to split the
timber.

Prof. Consider. Is it the property of the mall
and wedge to split?

Stu. The saw to slit the timber, the plane to
smooth and thin the boards.

Prof. How ! Take time ! Take time !

Stu. To thin and smooth the boards.

Peof. To be sure — the boards are first thinned
and then smoothed — go on —

Stu. The plane to thin and smooth the boards,
and the hammer to drive the nails.

Peof. Or rather tacks. — Have not some philoso-
phers considered glue as one of the mechanical
powers ?

Stu. Yes ; and it is still so considered, but it is
called an inverse mechanical power : because, where-
as it is the property of the direct mechanical powers
to generate motion, and separate parts ; glue, on the
contrary, prevents motion, and keeps the parts to
which it is applied'fixed to each other.

Prof. Very true. — What is the mechanical law of
the saw ?

Stu. The power is to the resistance, as the num-
ber of teeth and force impressed multiplied by the
number of strokes in a given time.

Peof. Is the saw only used in slitting timber into
boards ?

Stu. Yes, it is also employed in cutting boards
into lengths.

Peof. Not lengths : a thing cannot properly be
said to have been cut into lengths.

Stu. Into shortnesses.

Prof. Certainly — into shortnesses. Well, what
are the mechanical laws of the hammer ?

Gov. The time wastes fast; pass on to another
science.

Mathematics.

Peof. What is a salt-box ?

Stu. It is a figure composed of lines and surfaces.

Prof. What are the external figures of a salt-box?

Stu. Four parallelograms and two squares.

Prof. How are these disposed?

Stu. The four parallelograms are thus disposed :
The superior, or top ; the anterior, or front ; the in-
ferior, or bottom; and the posterior, or "back; and
the two squares form the two ends.

Peof. Very good. — Let us now consider one of the
squares at the end of the salt-box. Suppose then a
diagonal line to be drawn from one of the angles of
this square to the opposite angle of the same, what
will be the consequence ?

Stu. It will divide the square into two equal and
similar triangles.

Peof. Very true. — But can you demonstrate that
these two equal and similar triangles are equal to
each other ?

FRANCIS HOPKINSON.

215

Stu. I draw the square ABCD, whose sides are
■ B all equal, and the contained an-
gles, all right angles. I then
draw the diagonal B G, dividing
the square into two equal parts.
Then I say, that one of those
equal parts, viz. the triangle
A B C is equal to the other equal
D part or triangle BCD; and fur-
ther, that those two triangles are not only equal
but similar. For by the 105th proposition of the
49th Book of Euclid, if in two triangles, all the
lines and angles of the one, are equal to all the
corresponding lines and angles of the other, those
two triangles will be equal and similar. But the leg
A B of the triangle A B C, is equal to the leg C I)
of the triangle B C D, because they are two of the
sides of the square ABCD, equal by construction :
and. the leg A C is equal to the leg B D for the same
reason ; and because the hypothenuse B C is com-
mon to both triangles, therefore the hypothenuse of
the triangle A B C is equal to the hypothenuse of
the triangle BCD. Now, because by the 115th
proposition of the same book, equal legs subtend
equal angles of the same radii ; it follows, that all
the angles of the triangle ABC are equal to the
corresponding angles of the triangle B D C : ergo,
those two triangles are equal aud similar : and ergo,
if a square be cut by a diagonal line into two equal
parts, those parts will be equal. Q E D.

Prof. Very well ! very well indeed ! — Suppose
now a right line to be let fall from a given point
above a salt-box, till it shall touch the superior pa-
rallelogram, and another right line to be let fall from
the same point till it should touch the inferior pa-
rallelogram of the same salt-box, can you demon-
strate that these two lines must be unequal : or, in
other words, can you prove that a line of 12 iuches
is shorter than a line of 18 inches in length ?

Stu. If two lines —

Gov. We have just received intelligence that
dinner is almost ready ; aud as the medical class is
yet to be examined, we cannot afford- time for this
demonstration. Let the medical gentlemen come
forward.

Anatomy.

Prof. What is a salt-box?

Stu. It is a body composed of wood, glue, nails,
and hinges.

Prof. How is this body divided ?

Stu. Into external and internal.

Prof. Very good — external and internal — very
proper indeed. — Aud what are the external parts of
a salt-box?

Stu. One fundamental, four laterals, and one
superlateral.

Prof. And how do you find the internal parts of a
salt-box?

Stu. Divided by a vertical membrane or partition
into two large cavities or sinuses.

Prof. Are these cavities always equal?

Stu. They used to be so formerly ; but modern
joiners have thought it best to have them unequal, for
the more convenient accommodation of the viscera
or contents ; the larger cavity for the reception of
the coarser viscera, and the smaller for the tine.

Prof. Very true — thus have modern joiners, by
their improvements, excelled the first maker of salt-
boxes. — Tell me now what peculiarity do you ob-
serve in the superlateral member of n salt- box?

Stu. Whereas all the other members are fixed and
stationary with respect to each other, the superla-
teral is moveable on a pair of hinges.

Prof. To what purpose is it bo constructed? '

Stu. For the admission, retention, and emission of
the saline particles.

Gov. This is sufficient — our time is short — dinner
must not wait — let us now proceed to

Surgery, and Vie Practize of Physic.

Prof. Mention a few of the principal disorders
to which a salt-box is liable ?

Stu. A cracked and leaky fundamental ; a gaping
of the joint in the laterals ; luxation of the hinges :
and an accession and concretion of filth and foulness
external and internal.

Prof. Very well. — How would you treat those
disorders ? — begin with the first.

Stu. I would caulk the leak fundamental with
pledgets of tow, which I would secure in the fissure
by a strip of linen or paper pasted over. For the
starting of the lateral joints, I would administer
powerful astringents, such as the gluten corneum ;
and would bind the parts together by triple bandages
until the joints should knit.

Prof. Would you not assist with chalybeates ?

Stu. Yes — I would at — tack the disease with pre-
pared iron, in doses proportioned to the strength of
the parts.

Prof. How would you manage the luxation of the
hinge ?

Stu. I would first examine whether it was oc-
casioned by the starting of the points which annex
the processes to the superlateral or its antagonist, or
to a loss of the fulcrum, or to an absolute fracture
of the sutures. In the first case, I would secure the
process by a screw ; in the second, I would bring the
sutures together, and introduce the fulcrum ; and in
the last, I would entirely remove the fractured
hinge, and supply its place, pro tempore, with one
of leather.

Prof. Very well, sir ! — very well ! — now for your
treatment in case of accumulated foulness, external
and internal — but first tell me, how is this foulness
contracted ?

Stu. Externally, by the greasy hands of the cook ;
and internally, by the solution aud adhesion of the
saline particles.

Prof. True. — And now for the cure.

Stu. I would first evacuate the abominable vessel,
through the prima via. I would then exhibit deter-
gents and diluents ; such as the saponaceous pre-
paration, with great plenty of aquafontana.

Prof. Would not aqua coslestis do better ?

Stu. Yes — plenty oiaqita coslestis with the marine
sand. I would also apply the friction brush, with
a brisk and strong hand, until the excrementitious
concrete should be totally dissolved and removed.

Prof. Very proper. — What next ?

Stu. I would recommend the cold bath, by means
of a common pump ; and then apply lintal absorb-
ents; and finally, exsiccate the body by exposition
either in the sun, or before the kitchen fire.

Prof. In what situation would you leave the
superlateral valve during the exsiccating operation ?

Stu. I would leave it open to the extent, in order
that the rarefied humidities might freely exhale from
the abominable cavities or sinuses.

Chemistry.

Prof. You have mentioned the saponaceous pre-
paration— pray, how is that procured ?

Stu. By the action of a vegetable alkaline salt
upon a pinguidinous or unctuous substance.

Prof. What is salt?

Stu. It is a substance sui generis, pungent to the
taste, of an antiseptic quality, and is produced by
crystallization on the evaporation of the fluid in
which it is suspended.

216

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Prof. How many kinds of salt occur in a salt-
box?

Stu. Two — coarse and fine.

Pkof. You have said that the saponaceous prepa-
ration is produced by the action of a vegetable alka-
line salt on a pinguidinous or unctuous substance —
describe the process !

Stu. If a great quantity of strong lie be procured
by passing water through wood ashes, and if a very
large body of a pinguidinous habit should be im-
mersed in this lie, and exposed to a considerable
heat, the action of the lie, or rather the salts with
which it abounds, upon the jjinguidinous bod}*,
would cause the mixture to coagulate and — [Here
the examiner looked very sour, for he was very fat. .]

At this instant a servant announced that dinner
was on the table — the examination was concluded,
and the parties separated — one rejoicing in the an-
ticipation of a feast, and the examined happy in find-
ing the fiery trial over.

May, 1784

DIALOGUE OX THE ADDRESS OF THE PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY
TO DR. FRANKLIN.

[For the Pennsylvania Packet.]
I have perused with some attention the several
addresses made to the venerable Doctor Franklin,
by public bodies and private societies on his arrival
in this city. So far as they express a sense of grati-
tude and esteem for his integrity and abilities as a
public agent and a philosopher, they have my hearty
concurrence and approbation : but they also afford
some literary amusement, when considered merely
as compositions, with a design of observing the
various forms which the same subject matter may
assume, in passing through the varied machinery of
different pericraniums.

Talking on this subject with Mr. B. the address
of the American Philosophical Society engaged our
attention, as distinguished from all the others by a
dearth of sentiment, awkwardness of style, and ob-
scurity of expression. I am surprised, said I — but
it will be better to give it in the way of dialogue,
to avoid the number of said /'.5 and said Ac's.

■A. I am surprised that our Philosophical Society,
from whom we might expect, on such an occasion,
at least ease and propriety, if not something more,
should exhibit so barren, so stiff, and costive a per-
formance, as their address seems to be : it must cer-
tainly have been seethed too long in the author's
brain, and so become hard like an over-boiled egg.

B. I perceive, sir, you are not a member of the
Philosophical Society.

A. So, sir; I have not that honor.

B. So I thought by your mentioning brains. Why,
sir, vre never make use of any in writing letters, or
drawing addresses : we manage these things in quite
a different way. How do you imagine our address
was produced ?

A. Some member, I suppose, was appointed to
draft the address, which was afterwards read before
the society; and being corrected, was finally aj>-
proved of, and so delivered.

B. "When you shall become a philosopher you will
know better: no, sir, we conduct all our business by
ballot, as they choose magistrates — according to the
spirit of our excellent constitution.

A. No doubt, when new members, or officers of
the institution are to be elected ; but how an address
can be composed by ballot, I confess, I cannot com-
prehend.

B. Well, I will inform you. You must know we
have four boxes : in one are put a number of sub-
stantives, the best the dictionary affords; in the
second, an equal number of adjectives ; in the third,

a great number of verbs, with their participles, ge-
runds, etc. ; and in the fourth, a still greater number
of pronouns, articles, and particles, with all the small
ware of the syntax. The secretary shakes these
boxes for a considerable time, and then places them
side by side on a table, each bearing its proper label
of distinction. This done, the members proceed to
ballot for the composition, whatever it may be ;
each member taking out one substantive, one ad-
jective, two verbs, and four particles from the boxes
respectively ; and so they proceed, repeating the
operation, until thej- have drawn the number of
words, of which, according to a previous determina-
tion, the composition is to consist. Some ingenious
member is then requested to take all the ballots or
words so obtained, aud arrange them in the best or-
der he can. In the present case, this task fell to
***** . an j yOU cail gc,e },ow ue ]ias worked up the
materials which chance threw in his way.

A. If this is your method it will sufficiently ac-
count for the short broken sentences, the harshness
of the periods, and general obscurity which distin-
guish your address.

B. What do you mean by obscurity t I am sure
our address, if not elegant, is at least intelligible.

A. Pray, inform me, then, what is meant by this
paragraph : — " The high consideration and esteem
in which we hold your character, so intimately com-
bine with our regard for the public welfare, that
we participate eminently in the general satisfaction
which your return to America produces:" — and of
this — " We derive encouragement and extraordinary
felicity from an assemblage of recent memorable
events : and while we boast in a most pleasing equa-
lity, permanently ascertained," &c, (fee.

B. The meaning of your first quotation is, that
our high consideration for the doctor, combining
and intimately mixing with our regard for the pub-
lic welfare, occasion .a kind of chymical solution or
effervescence in our minds, producing a tertium quid,
which causes us to participate eminently, and so on ;
if you know anything of ehymistry, you would have
understood it well enough.

A. Well ! it appears to me something very like
nonsense ; but, I confess, I am no philosopher.

B. As to the other passage you mentioned — the
truth is, we were a little unlucky — it would have
been the most elegant paragraph in the whole com-
position but for an unfortunate accident. You must
know, that whilst ***** was arranging the ballots,
a puff of wind blew away a number of excellent ex-
planatory words, and carried them out of the win-
dow ; the whole sentence had like to have gone : a
careful search was made in the street, but no more
could be recovered than what you see. It was,
indeed, proposed to ballot over again for as many
words as had been lost: but some members were
of opinion that this miglit prove a dangerous pre-
cedent, and so the passage was suffered to pass as it
now stands.

A. I observe further, that you mention " the
growth of sciences and arts;'' would it not have
read better, "the growth of arts and sciences;" ac-
cording to the usual mode of expression ? which has
this to justify it, that arts were known and practised
before sciences were investigated ; and besides, the
expression is more musical aud pleasing to the ear.

B. We had a long debate upon this subject; and
the very reasons you uow give were urged in favor
of the common way of placing those words ; but the
learned compositor insisted, that as the sciences were
more abstruse, and more eminent in dignity than
the arts, they ought to be mentioned first, especially
bv a philosophical society.

A. This reminds me of what the town-el erk savs

FRANCIS HOPKINSON.

air

in Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing : — " To.
CI. Write down that they hope they serve God:
and be sure to write God first ; for God defend, but
God should go before such villains."

B. It is in vain to attempt explanation to a mind
so prejudiced as your's. I perceive you are deter-
mined to find fault, and so let us drop the subject.

A. Why, do you imagine I believe one word of
your boxes and your ballots ? You are either ridi-
culing, or endeavoring to excuse a performance,
which would, indeed, disgrace a schoolboy.

When I compare this address with the president's
short but elegant reply, I cannot but observe, how
strongly the difference is marked between an author
who sits down to think what he shall write, and one
who only sits down to write what he thinks.

VERSES

"Wrote in a blank bonk whieb once belonsretj to Mr. SJ&nstone
the poet, and was given by the Lord Bis/top of Worcester.

Come little book, the giver's hand,

Shall add such worth to mine,
That I will hold thee highly priz'd,

And joy to call thee mine.

Come little book ; nor in my care,

An humbler lot refuse,
Tho' Worcester own'd thee once, tho' once

Design'd for Shcnstone's muse.

Had Shenstone in thy spotless page

In glowing numbers plac'd,
All that is pleasing, great, and good,

With ev'ry virtue grac'd:

Fill'd thee with gentleness and love,

With piety and truth ;
The wisdom of experieue'd years,

The brilliant powers of youth ;

With all the eondeseending.ease

Of manners most refin'd, ■
Then liadst thou been an emblem fit,

Of Worcester's generous mind.

Come little book ; and let me boast

No small, no common fame,
That in thy once so honour'd page,

I write my humble name.
IlarUebury Castle, in Worcestershire, 1767.

DESCRIPTION OF A CUUECII.

As late beneath the hallow'd roof I trod,
Where saints in holy rapture seek their God;
Where heart-stung sinners smug Heav'n for grace,
With tears repentant consecrate the place.
Oh ! how my soul was struck with what I saw,
And shrunk within me in religious awe:

The massy walls, which seem'd to scorn the rage
Of battering tempests and of mouldering age :
In long perspective stretched, till breadth and height
Were almost lost in distance from the sight;
With monumental decorations hung.
They spoke mortality with silent tongue.
There, sorrowing seraphs heav'uward lift their eyes,
And little cherubs weep soft elegies.
I trod — and started at the mighty noise ;
The hollow pavement lifted up its voice ;
The swelling arch receiv'd the rising sound,
Responsive to the stroke the walls around,
And sent it murm'ring to the vaults around,
Thro' lengthen'd aisles prolong'd the solemn sound.

Far in the west, and noble to the sight.
The gilded organ rears its tow'ring height :
And hark ! methinks I from its bosom hear,
Soft issuing sounds that steal upon the ear
And float serenely on the liquid air.

Now by degrees more bold and broad they grow,
And riot loosely thro' the aisles below ;
Till the full organ lifts its utmost voice,
And my heart shudders at the powerful noise :
Like the last trump, one note is heard to sound
That all the massy pillars tremble round :
The firm fixt building shivers on its base,
And vast vibration tills th' astonish'd place:
The marble pavements seem to feel their doom,
And the bones rattle in each hollow tomb.

But now the blast harmonious dies away,
And tapers gently in a fine decay :
The melting sounds on higher pinions fly,
And seem to fall soft oozing from on high;
Like evening dew they gently spread around
And shed the sweetness of heart-thrilling sound;
'Till grown too soft, too fine for mortal ear,
The dying strains dissolve in distant air.
Methought I heard a flight of angels rise,
Most sweetly ehaunting as they gain'd the skies:
Methought I heard their lessening sound decay
And fade and melt and vanish quite away.

Hail heav'n born music ! by thy pow'r we raise
Th' uplifted soul to acts of highest praise ;
Oh ! I would die with music melting round,
And float to bliss upon a sea of sound.

A MORNING IIY.UN.

Once more the rising source of day,
Pours on the earth his genial ray:
Withdraws the starry veil of night,
And smiles on ev'ry mountain height.

Once more my soul, thy song prepare,
Thy God approach in praise and pray'r
With early voice salute the skies,
And on the lark's fleet pinions rise.

This hand did me from danger keep
When nature lay entrane'd in sleep:
When ev'ry sense forsook its post,
And reason's guardian pow'r was lost.

Soon as dark night o'erspreads the skies,
Cold mists and drowsy dampj arise :
Contagious streams their confines break,
And slumber o'er the sluggish lake.

Loud shrieks the melancholy owl,
And prowling wolves through deserts howl
The fancied spectre glides the green,
And midnight murder walks unseen.

Forlorn the wearied wand'rer strays,
Lost in a labyriuthian maze ;
Where'er he treads, is danger there,
And his soul sickens in despair.

Whilst slumbers soft my eye-lids close,
And golden dreams and sweet repose,
.Wear the sad hours of night away,
And hasten on the cheerful day.

My God ! shall not such goodness move
My soul to gratitude and love?
Or shall my heart forget to raise,
Her loud hosannahs to thy praise?

When shall my eager spirit rise,
And soar above these floating skies ?
Oh ! when with hosts seraphic join,
To sing thy majesty divine?

In realms where no returns of night,
Shall e'er the tim'rous soul affright?
But one eternal blaze of day,
Shines forth with unremitting ray ?

218

CYCLOPEDIA Off AMERICAN- LITERATURE.

AN EVENING IirMN.

At length the busy day is done,
And yon bright orb, the glorious sun,
Deep in the west reclines his head,
Where misty curtains shroud his bed.

Oh! God of hosts! with this day's close,
How many sleep in death's repose ?
And with the sinking sun's decline,
To thee their fleeting souls resign.

Hark ! 'tis the tolling bell I hear,
And slow and dull it strikes mine ear:
E'en whilst I tune my pensive song,
The solemn fun'ral moves along.

He whom this night th' expecting tomb,
Shall wrap within its dreary gloom,
At yester-morn, devoid of care.
Up rose and breath'd the healthful air.

Gay Hope o'erlook'd the present day,
Prospects of years before him lay ;
He hasten'd distant joys to meet,
Nor saw the grave yawn at his feet.
Ambition, stop thy mad career,
Look on that corse and drop a tear;
E'en when thy hand would grasp the prize,
The stroke is giv'n, and glory dies.

Let Av'rice, feeble, grey and old,
Whilst his broad palm protects his gold,
Lift up his eyes, and sighing say,
Death is a debt we all must pay.

Let thoughtless youth, too often found,
In sensual jot/s enchanting round,
Behold, and as he trembling stands,
Let Pleasure's cup fall from his hands.

And thou, my soul, thy thoughts employ.
On God thy glory, wealth and joy :
"Virtue alone is stable here,
Nought but religion is sincere.

When mortal pangs his frame shall seize,
And the chill'd blood begins to freeze;
When my fixt eyes must roll no more,
And life escapes thro' ev'ry pore.

Ah ! what shall cheer my drooping heart \
Shall worldly honours joy impart?
Can sensual pleasure sweeten death,
Or wealth redeem one parting breath 8

Therefore, my soul, thy. thoughts employ,
On God, thy Glory, wealth and joy :
Virtue alone is stable here,
Nought but religion is sincere.

AN EPITAPH FOR AN INFANT.

Sleep on, sweet babe ! no dreams annoy thy rest,
Thy spirit flew unsullied from thy breast :
Sleep on, sweet innocent! nor shalt thou dread
The passing storm that thunders o'er thy head :
Thro' the bright regions of yon azure sky,
A winged seraph, now she soars on high;
Or, on the bosom of a cloud reclin'd,
She rides triumphant on the rapid wind ;
Or from its source pursues the radiant day ;
Or on a sun-beam, smoothly glides away;
Or mounts aerial to her blest abode,
And sings, inspir'd, the praises of her God:
Unveiled thence, to her extensive eye,
Nature, and Nature's Laws, expanded lie:
Death, in one moment, taught this infant mora
Than years or ages ever taught before.

A CAMP-BALLAD.

Make room, oh! ye kingdoms in hist'ry renowned
Whose arms have in battle with glory been crown'd,

I Make room for America, another great nation,
Arises to claim in your council a station.

Her sons fought for - freedom, and by their own

brav'ry
Have rescued themselves from the shackles of

slav'ry,
America's free, and tho' Britain abhor'd it,
Yet fame a new volume prepares to record it.

Fair freedom in Britain her throne had erected,
But her sons growing venal, and she disrespected;
The goddess offended forsook the base nation,
And fix'd on our mountains a more honour'd station.

With glory immortal she here sits enthron'd,
Nor fears the vain vengeance of Britain disown'd,
Whilst Washington guards her with heroes sur-
rounded,
Her foes shall with shameful defeat be confounded.

To arms then, to arms, 'tis fair freedom invites us ;
The trumpet shrill sounding to battle excites us ;
The banners of virtue imfurl'd, shall wave o'er us.
Our hero lead on, and the foe fly before us.

On Heav'n and Washington placing reliance,
We'll meet the bold Briton, and bid him defiance.
Our cause we'll support, for 'tis just and 'tis glorious
When men fight for freedom they must be vic-
torious.

THE BATTLE OF THE KEGS.*

Gallants attend and hear a friend,

Trill forth harmonious ditty,
Strange things I'll tell which late bci'cl

In Philadelphia city.

'Twas early day, as poets say,

Just when the sun was rising,
A soldier stood on a log of wood,

And saw a thing surprising.

As in amaze he stood to gaze,

The truth can't be denied, sir,
He spied a score of kegs or more

Come floating down the tide, sir.

A sailor too in jerkin blue,

This strange appearance viewing,

First damn'd his eyes, in great surprise,
Then said, " Some mischief 's brewing.

" These kegs, I'm told, the rebels hold,
Paek'd up like pickled herring ;
And they're come down t' attack the town,
In this new way of ferrying."

The soldier flew, the sailor too,

And scar'd almost to death, sir,
Wore out their shoes, to spread the news,

And ran till out of breath, sir.

Now up and down throughout the town,

Most frantic scenes were acted ;
And some ran here, and others there,

Like men almost distracted.

Some fire ery'd, which some denied,

But said the earth had quaked ;
And girls and boys, with hideous noise,

Ran thro' the streets half naked.

* This ballad was occasioned by a real incident Certain
machine?, in the form of kesrs. charged with gunpowder, were
sent rlowD the rivei- to annoy the British shipping then at Phi-
ladelphia. The danger of these machines being discovered,
the British manned the wharfe and shipping, and discharged
their small arms and cannons at every thiner they saw floating
in the river during the ebb tide. — Author's Rote.

JACOB DUCHE.

219

Sir William he, snug as a flea,

Lay all this time a snoring,
Nor dream'd of harm as he lay "warm,

In bed with Mrs. Loring.

Now in a fright, he starts upright,

Awak'd by such a clatter ;
He rubs both eyes, and boldly cries.

For God's sake, what's the matter '.

At his bed-side he then espy'd,

Sir Erskine at command, sir,
Upon one foot, he had one boot,

And.th' other in his hand, sir.

"Arise, arise," Sir Erskine cries,
" The rebels — more's the pity,"
Without a boat are all afloat,
And rang'd before the city.

" The motly crew, in vessels new,
With Satan for their guide, sir,
Pack'd up in bags, or wooden kegs,
Come driving down the tide, sir.

" Therefore prepare for bloody war,
These kegs must all be routed, *
Or surely we despised shall be,
And British courage doubted."

The royal band now ready stand

All rang'd in dread array, sir,
With stomach stout to see it out,

And make a bloody day, sir.

The cannons roar from shore to shore,
The small arms make a rattle ;

Since wars began I'm sure no man
E'er saw so strange a battle.

The rebel dales, the rebel vales,

With rebel trees surrounded ;
The distant woods, the lulls and floods,

With rebel echoes sounded.

The fish below swam to and fro,

Attack'd from ev'ry quarter ;
Why sure, thought they, the devil's to pay,

'JMongst folks above the water.

The kegs, 'tis said, tho' strongly made.

Of rebel staves and hoops, sir,
Could not oppose their powerful foes,

The conq'ring British troops, sir.

From morn to night these men of might

Display'd amazing courage;
And when the sun was fairly down,

Ketir'd to sup their porrage

An hundred men with each a pen,

Or more upon my word, sir,
It is most true would be too few,

Their valour to record, sir.

Such feats did they perform that day,
Against these wicked kegs, sir,

That years to come, if they get home,
They'll make their boasts and brags, sir.

THE NEW EOOF: A SONG FOE FEDERAL MECHANICS.

Come muster, my lads, your mechanical tools,
Your saws and your axes, your hammers and rules;
Bring your mallets and planes, your level and line,
And plenty of pins of American pine:
For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be,
Our government firm, and our citizens free.

ii.
Come up with the plates, lay them firm on the wall,
Like the people at large, they're the ground-work
of all ;

Examine them well, and see that they're sound,
Let no rotten part in our building be found :
For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be,
A government firm, and our citizens free.

Now hand up the girders, lay each in its place,
Between them the joists, must divide all the space ;
Like assembly -men these should lie level along,
Like girders, our senate prove loyal and strong:
For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be,
A government firm over citizens free.

The rafters now frame ; your king-posts and braces.
And drive your pins home, to keep all in their

places ;
Let wisdom and strength in the fabric combine,
And your pins be all made of American pine :
For our roof ice will raise, and our song still shall be,
A government firm over citizens free.

Our king-posts are judges ; how upright they stand,

Supporting the braces ; the laws of the land:

The laws of the land, which divide right from

wrong
And strengthen the weak, by weak'ning the strong:
For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be,
Laws equal and just, for a people that's free.

Up ! up ! . with the rafters ; each frame is a state :
How nobly they rise ! their span, too, how great I
From the north to the south, o'er the whole they

extend,
And rest on the walls, whilst the walls they defend :
For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be,
Combined in strength, yet as citizens free.

Now enter the purlins, and drive your pins through.
And see that your joints are drawn home and all

true,
The purlins will bind all the rafters together :
The strength of the whole shall defy wind and

weather :
For our roof we will raise, and our song still shall be,
United as states, but as citizens free.

Come, raise up the turret : our glory and pride :
In the centre it stands, o'er the whole to preside:
The sons of Columbia shall view with delight
Its pillars and arches, and tow'ring height:
Our roof is now raised, and our song still shctll be,
A federal head o'er a people that's free.

Huzza! my brave-boys, our work is complete;
The world shall admire Columbia's fair feat ;
Its strength against tempest and time shall be proof,
And thousands shall come to dwell under our roof:
Whilst we drain the deep bowl, our toast still shall

be,
Our government firm, and our citizens free.

JACOB DUCHE,
Who, at the suggestion of Samuel Adams, opened
the old Continental Congress of 1774 with prayer,
was for a. time Chaplain to the Congress of 1776,
and was much admired for his ease and elegance
as a preacher in his day ; was also a writer of
some pretensions. Of Huguenot descent, he was

220

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

a native of Philadelphia, born about 1738. He j
took orders in England, and became a rector of
the Episcopal church in his native city. In 1771
appeared from his pen the Letters of Tamoc Cas-
pipina, an acrostic on his designation as Assistant
Minister of Christ's Church, and St. Peters, in
Philadelphia, in North America* They have
reference to the English politics of the times.
One of them has an allusion to Sir William Dra-
per, who was about that time in America, urging
him to a fresh encounter with his antagonist Ju-
nius, "the knight of the polished armour.''t The
letters are addressed by Tamoc Caspipina to Plight
Hon. Viscounts, Lady Carolines, Lord Bishops,
&c. ; and give an easy account, with not too much
matter, of some of the institutions of Philadel-
phia, a few trite moralities of religion, two or
three feeble poems,

Soon, Myrtilla, must thy friend
Hasten to a distant shore, <fec,

and a passing mention of the volumes of Godfrey
and Evans. In one of the letters there is a con-
templation of the rising greatness of America,
which is expressed in a flowing style — probably a "
very good specimen of the author's rhetorical
maimer in his sermons, which, joined to a good de-
livery, might readily produce the effect assigned
to Duche's pulpit eloquence. This collection was
several times reprinted. In an elegant edition, in
two small volumes, published at Bath in England
in 1777, there is an allusion to two prior ones;
and there is one still later, published at London in
1791. To the Bath edition is appended, A Brief
Account of the Life of William Perm, Esq., Pro-
prietor and Governor of Pennsylvania ; in which
his settlement of that Province is included, and
to which u added his Character.

The incidents of Duche's first services in the
Continental Congress were striking. John Adams
has given an account of the scene in a letter to
his wife dated September 16, 1774. Duche ap-
peared "with his clerk and his pontificals, and
read several prayers in the established form, and
then read the collect (psalter) for the seventh day
of September, which was the thirty-fifth psalm.
You must remember this was the next morning
after we heard the horrible rumor of the cannon-
ade of Boston. I never saw a greater effect upon
an audience. It seems as if Heaven had or-
dained that psalm to be read on that morning.
After this Mr. Duche, unexpectedly to everybody,
struck out into an extemporary prayer, which
filled the bosom of every man present. I must
confess I never heard a better prayer, or one so
well pronounced. Episcopalian as he is, Dr.
Cooper himself never prayed with such fervor,
such ardor, such earnestness and pathos, and in
language so elegant and sublime — for America,
for the Congress, for the Province of Massachu-
setts Bay, and especially the town of Boston. It
has had an excellent effect upon everj'body here.
I must beg you to read that psalm. If there was
any faith in the Sortes Virgilianas or Sortes Ho-

* Caspipina"s Letters. Observations on a variety of subjects,
literary, moral, and religious: in a Eeries of original letters,
written by a gentleman of foreign extraction who residedsome
time in Philadelphia. Philadelphia. 1774

t Graydon's Memoirs. Littell's Ed., p. 98.

mericaD, or especially in the Sortes BiblicEe, it would
be thought providential. Mr. Duche is one of the
most ingenious men, and best characters, and
greatest orators in the Episcopal order upon this
continent — yet a zealous friend of liberty and his
country."

He published two revolutionary sermons, a fast
sermon before Congress, and another address to
the militia. The Duty of Standing Fast in our
Spiritual and Temporal Liberties, was the title
of his discourse preached in Christ church, July
1, 1775, before the First Battalion of the city.
He addressed his audience from the text, Stand
fast, therefore, in the Liberty wherewith Christ
hath made us free, as freemen both in the spirit-
ual and temporal sense. It is temperate to Eng-
land, but animated for independence. In one sen-
tence he indulges in a bit of sarcasm. " We wish
not to possess the golden groves of Asia, to sparkle
in the public eye with jewels torn from the brows
of weeping nabobs, or to riot on the spoil of plun-
dered provinces."

The American Line, was his fast-day sermon,
delivered before the honorable Continental Con-
gress the same month, in which he looks to the
past prosperity of the_ country and invokes its
continuance. He gave the pay of his chaplaincy to
the families of the Whigs slain in battle. Though
a man of conscientious views, and a lover of right,
his judgment unfortunately wavered from timid-
ity or the pressure of society around him on the
British occupation of Philadelphia, and he felt
himself called upon to write an unfortunate letter
to General Washington,* urging him to abandon
the cause of Independence, which Washington
prudently laid before Congress, and which Du-
che's brother-in-law, Francis Hbpldnson, replied
to with great spirit and directness.t This action
caused his retirement from the country. He was
well received in England, where he published two
volumes of sermons in 1780, and a sermon before
the Humane Society in 1781. After the war he
returned to Philadelphia in 1790, where he died
in 1794.

FEOM CASPIPrNA'S LETTERS.

To the Right Honorable Lord Viscount P , Queen Street,

Westminster.

* * * My attachment to America, I am apt to
think, in a great measure proceeds from the prospect
of its growing greatness, to which every day seems
more or less to contribute. In Europe, the several
arts and sciences are almost arrived at their meri-
dian of perfection ; at least, new discoveries are less
frequent now than heretofore. Architecture, gar-
dening, agriculture, mechanics are at a stand. The
eye is weary with a repetition of scenes, in which it
discovers a perpetual sameness, though heightened
by all the refinements of taste. Excellency itself, in
works of human art, cloys the faculties, if the mind
is not now and then ralieved by objects of inferior
beauty. After roving over the magnificence of
churches and palaces, we are glad to fix a while
upon a simple farm-house, or straw-built cottage.
We feel a particular delight in tracing the windings
of a beautiful river from its first springs till it emp-
ties itself into the vast ocean. The mind pursues it
through an immense tract of variegated country, and

* October 8, 177T.

t This letter was thought of importance enough to be pub-
lished in England, in Bath, 1777, in 4to.

HENRY CRUGER.

221

seems to flow and increase and widen along with it,
till it loses itself in the abyss of waters.

The objects of art, as well as those of nature, in
this new world, are at present in such a state, as
affords the highest entertainment to these faculties
of the mind. The progression is begun: here and
there, in the midst of venerable woods, which,
scarce a century ago, were the uncultivated haunts
of roaming savages, the power of cultivation pre-
sents itself to the traveller's view, in opening lawns,
covered with the richest verdure, fields of corn, or-
chards, gardens, and meadows fertilized by well
directed streams. Hamlets, villages, and even popu-
lous cities, with their towering spires, excite our
admiration. We are struck with the charm of no-
velty wherever we go. The comparison is always
at hand — for, within the compass of a short mile, we
may behold at once, nature in her original rusticity,
and art rising by rapid advances to perfection.

The progress of the human mind may here like-
wise be observed to keep equal pace with the exter-
nal improvements: the gradual polish of manners,
from awkwardness itself even to courtly civility;
from superstitious notions, and bigoted religious at-
tachments, to genuine spiritual devotion, may very
readily be traced by a thoughtful and inquisitive
mind. All the powers of nature seem to be upon
the stretch, as if the}' were in pursuit of something
higher still, in science, in manners, in religion itself,
than the mother country can afford.

Indeed, my Lord, I feel my heart expand at the
immense prospect that irresistibly opens upon me.
I see new kingdoms and empires rushing forth from
their embryo state, eager to disclose their latent
powers; whilst the old ones on the other side of the
Atlantic, " hide their diminished heads," lost in a
superior lustre. I see learning stripped of all scho-
lastic pedantry, and religion restored to gospel pu-
rity. I see the last efforts of a powerful Providence
exerted in order to reclaim our wandering race from
the paths of ignorance and error. I see the setting
rays of the Sun of Righteousness shining forth with
seven-fold lustre to the utmost bourn of this Western
Continent.

Wonder not then, my Lord, at my attachment to
this favoured spot. I tread the hallowed soil with
far higher pleasures from anticipation than your
classic enthusiasts feel from reflection, whilst they
kiss the floor of Tasculvm, or walk the " Eternal
Jlint by Consuls trod."

There is one thought, indeed, that throws a damp
upon that ardour of joy, which such speculations
generally produce in my breast. From the strange
pi'opensity of human nature to abuse the richest
gifts of Providence, (of which history as well as ex-
perience affords us so many sad examples) I fear, lest
the old leaven of wickedness should insinuate itself
again by degrees, till it has corrupted the whole
mass ; lest the melancholy scenes we have beheld in
the kingdoms and churches of the East should be
acted over again in the West; and the declension of
sound knowledge and virtuous practice, should be
more rapid than their increase and advancement.

Your lordship has seen the works of the divine
Herbert. You may remember how excessively fond
Dr. R— — y was of his poems, and how earnestly he
would recommend his excellent little treatise, called
The Country Parson, to all his pupils who were to
be candidates for holy orders. Lest you should not
have the book by you, I must beg leave to tran-
scribe a very remarkable passage from a poem en-
titled The Church Militant, which, as it relates
wholly to America, ami breathes a kind of prophetic
spirit, has generally been called " Herbert's Pro-
phecy." The language is uncouth and the measure

far from harmonious — but there is something very
striking and animated in the sentiment : —

Religion stands on tip-toe in our land
Beady to pass to thu American strand, &c.*

You see, my Lord, from the short sketches which I
have given you, that Herbert's Prophecy, if it may
be so called (though it is no more than what our
schoolmen have styled reading from analogy), is ful-
filling fast. Arts and religion still keep pace with
each other ; and 'tis not impossible, as he conjec-
tures, that their return to the East will be the "time
and place where judgement shall appear."

HENRY CRUGER.

Henry Cruger was the first American who
sat in the British House of Commons. He was a
member of a leading family in the society and
politics of the colony and city of New York, and
a nephew of John Cruger, mayor of New York,
and speaker of the Colonial Assembly at the time
of the passage of the stamp act, and a proposer,
and afterwards prominent member of the first
Provincial Congress held in New York, in 1765.
_ The " Declaration of Rights" issued by that body
' was written by him. Henry Cruger was born in
New York, in 1739, and on arriving at manhood
became connected in business with his father, who
had established himself at Bristol, which then held
a position, in reference to American commerce,
similar to that of Liverpool at the present day,
and was elected mayor of the city. The father's
popularity seems to have been shared by the son,
as lie was also chosen mayor, and in 1774 one of
the two representatives of the city, in the House
of Commons, his colleague being Edmund Burke.

The election was a sharply contested one. Burke
was introduced on the hustings by Cruger, and
made a brief speech, at the conclusion of which,

a Mr. C is reported in the newspapers of the

day to have exclaimed, " I say ditto to Mr. Burke."
The story has passed into the jest books, and
been fastened upon Cruger, who, as he had just
before spoken, is not likely to have spoken again;
or if he did, would not, as his future career
: shows, have expressed himself so briefly. The
i true author of this famous speech was a Mr. Car-
rington.

Cruger made his maiden speech December 16,
1774-, in the debate on the Army Estimates.
Josiah Quincy, Jun., was present in the gallery,
and mentions the circumstance in one of his let-
I ters. A New York clergyman, the Rev. Mr.
Vardell, of Trinity Church, was also an auditor,
and wrote home the following enthusiastic ac-
count of the new member, in a letter, which
we find printed in the Memoirs of Peter Van
Schaick : —

Mr. Cruger's fame has, I suppose, by this time
reached his native shore. His applause has been
universally sounded in this country. Adminislra-

* See Art. Berkeley, ante, p. 183.

222

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Hon applauds him for his moderation ; Opposition
for the just line he has drawn, and all men tor his
modest eloquence and graceful delivery. His ene-
mies are silenced by the strongest confutation of
their charges against him of illiberal invective
against the people of England, by his manly defence
of his country, and honorable approbation of his op-
ponents wherever he thought them justifiable. I
was in the house on the debate. It was remarkably
crowded with members, and the galleries were filled
with peers and persons of distinction. When Mr.
Cruger rose, there was a deep silence. He faltered
a little at first, but, as he proceeded, the cry of " Hear
him! hear him 1" animated him with resolution.
Hood, the Irish orator, sat behind me. He asked,
"Who is that? who is that? A young speaker?
"Whoever he is, he speaks more eloquently than any
man I have yet heard in the house." I took gre.it
pains to learn people's sentiments, and found them
all in his favor. Mr. Garriek, a few days after, in
a discussion on the subject, said, " he never saw hu-
man nature more amiably displayed than in the
modest manner of address, pathos of affection for
his country, and graceful gesture, exhibited by Mr.
Cruger in his speech." I am thus particular because
you must be curious to know what reception the
first American member met with in the most august
assembly in Europe. My heart beat high with
anxiety; I trembled when he arose with the most
awful and affecting jealousy for the honor of my
country. When "Hear him! hear him!" echoed
through the house, joy rushed through every vein,
and 1 seemed to glory in being a New-Yorker.

In this speech, while he dissents from many of
the measures pursued by the Americans, he
praises them for their love of liberty ; dwells on
the importance of the colonial trade to Great
Britain ; urges the necessity of conciliation, and
the uselessness of coercion.

Even should coercive measures reduce them to an
acknowledgment of the equity of Parliamentary
taxation, what are the advantages that will result
from it? Can it be believed that Americans will be
dragooned into a conviction of this right? Will
severities increase their affection and make them
more desirous of a connection with, and dependence
on Great Britain ? Is it not, on the contrary, rea-
sonable to conclude that the effect will be an increase
of jealousy and discontent? That they will seek all
occasions of evading laws imposed on them by vio-
lence ? That they will be restless under the yoke
and think themselves happy in any opportunity of
flying to the protection of some other power, from
the subjection of a mother whom they consider cruel
and vindictive?

I would not be understood, sir, to deny alto-
gether the good intentions of administration. The
abilities of the minister,* it seems, are universally
acknowledged. But, sir, I must add the maxim of
" hicmanuvi est errarc." And though an American,
I must applaud his zeal for the dignity of parlia-
ment, and must think the impolicy and inexpediency
of the late measures may reasonably be imputed to
the difficulty and embarrassments of the occasion,
and the unsettled and undefined nature of the de-
pendence of the Colonies on the mother country.
But, on the other hand, candor must admit the same
apology for any violence or mistakes of the Ameri-
cans.

But, sir, since these measures have been found, by
sad experience, to be totally inexpedient; since they

* Lord Xorth.

have served only to widen the breach instead of
closing it — have diminished the obedience of the
Colonies instead of confirming it — have increased
their tuibulence and opposition instead of allaying
them — it may well be hoped that a different course
of conduct and of treatment may be pursued ; and
some firm, enlightened, and liberal constitution be
adopted by the wisdom of this House, which may
secure the Colonists in the enjoyment of their liber-
ties, while it maintains the just supremacy of par-
liament.

In the debate on the Disturbances in North
America, Feb. 2, 1775, Colonel Grant remarked,
" That he knew the Americans well, and was cer-
tain they would not light," and was responded to
so warmly by Cruger, that the latter was called
to order by the Speaker. Cruger also spoke in
the debate on the Representation and remon-
strance of the General Assembly of New York,
May 15, 1775, and in that on Mr. Fox's motion
for an Enquirj' into the cause of the ill-success of
the British Arms in North America, February 20,
1776. We quote the conclusion of this, which is
one of his most successful efforts.

Admitting for the present, sir, that a force suffi-
cient to subdue the colonies can be sent out — admit-
ting that this country will patiently bear the enor-
mous weight of accumulated taxes, which so distant
and unequal a war will require — admitting that
foreign powers (the natural enemies of Britain) will,
with composure and self-denial, neglec-t so favorable
an opportunity of distressing their rivals — admitting
that your fleets, unopposed, shall level to the ground
those cities which rose under your protection, be-
came the pillars of your commerce, and your na-
tion's boast — admitting that foreign mercenaries
spread desolation, that thousands fall before them,
and that, humbled under the combined woes of
poverty, anarchy, want, and defeat, the exhausted
colonies fall suppliant at the feet of their conquerors
— admitting all this will be the case, (which cannot
well be expected from the past,) there necessarily
follows a most momentous question ; What are the
great advantages that Great Britain is to receive in
exchange for the blessings of peace and a lucrative
commerce, for the affection and loyalty, for the pros-
perity, for the lives of so many of its useful subjects
sacrificed ? Would the bare acknowledgment of a
right in Parliament to tax them, compensate for the
millions expended, the dangers incurred, the mise-
ries entailed, the destruction of human happiness
and of life that must ensue from a war with our
colonies, united as they are in one common cause,
and fired to desperate enthusiasm by apprehensions
of impending slavery ? Or can you be so absurd as
to imagine that concessions extorted in a time of
danger and of urgent misery, will form a bond of
lasting union ? Impoverished and undone by their
exertions, and the calamities of war, instead of being
able to repay the expenses of this country, or to
supply a revenue, they would stand in need of your
earliest assistance to revive depressed and almost
extinguished commerce, as well as to renew and up-
hold their necessary civil establishments.

I am well aware, sir, that it is said we must
maintain the dignity of Parliament. Let me ask
what dignity is that which will not descend to make
millions happy — which will sacrifice the treasures
and best blood of the nation to extort submissions,
fruitless submissions, that will be disavowed and
disregarded the moment the compulsory, oppressive
force is removed? What dignity is that which, to
enforce a disputed mode of obtaining a revenue,

WILLIAM BAETEAM.

223

■will destroy commerce, spread poverty and desola-
tion, and dry up every channel, every source, from
which either revenue or any real substantial benefit
can be expected i

Is it not high time then, Mr. Speaker, to examine
the full extent of our danger, to pause and marl; the
paths which have misled us, and the wretched, be-
wildered guides who have brought us into our
present difficulties ? Let us seek out the destroying
angel, and stop his course, while we have yet any-
thing valuable to preserve. The breach is not yet
irreparable, and permit me, with all deference, to
say, I have not a doubt but that liberal and explicit
terms of reconciliation, with a full and firm security
against any unjust or oppressive exercise of parlia-
mentary taxation, if held out to the colonies before
the war takes a wider and more destructive course,
will lead speedily to a settlement, and recall the for-
mer years of peace, when the affections and inte-
rests of Great Britain and America were one.

But, sir, if, on the contrary, we are to plunge
deeper into this sea of blood; if we are to sacrifice
the means and materials of revenue for unjust dis-
tinctions about the modes of raising it; if the laurels
we can gain, and the dignity of Parliament we are
to establish, can be purchased only by the miseries
of our fellow-subjects, whose losses are our own ; if
the event is precarious, and the cause, alien to the
spirit and humanity of Englishmen; if the injury is
certain, and the object of success unsubstantial and
insecure, how little soever the influence my poor
opinion and arguments can have on this House, I
shall at least free my conscience by having expli-
citly condemned all such impolitic, unjust, inade-
quate, injudicious measures, and by giving to this
motion my most hearty concurrence and support,

In the debate on Mr. Wilkes's motion for the
Repeal of the American Declaratory Act, Decem-
ber 10, 1777, Cruger says : " From my connec-
tions in America I have had an opportunity of
collecting the sentiments of men of all orders and
parties, and have reason to believe that inde-
pendency is not vet the great object of the major-
ity of the people." On the 5th of May, 1780, in
the debate on General Conway's lull for quieting
the troubles in America, "Mr. Cruger contended
that the bill by no means went far enough. He
said the American war, the real source of all our
distresses and burdens, should be put an end to at
all events ; in order to do this, the independency
must be allowed, and the thirteen provinces
treated as free states." This is the last mention
of his name in Hansard's Reports. He spoke
only on American affairs, and was evidently not
desirous of a separation between the colonies and
the mother country, but when such a step became
inevitable, acquiesced. Had he lived in America,
he would no doubt have been prominent on the
side of independence.

It is characteristic of the manner in which
families were divided in political opinions, du-
ring the Revolution, that while Henry Cruger
was in parliament, one of his two brothers in
America' was a colonel in the royal army, and
employed in the southern campaign, while the
other, a New York merchant, trading- with the
West Indies, though taking no active part in the
contest, was identified with the Whig side, and a
friend of General Washington.

Henry Cruger returned to New York after the
war, and was elected to the state senate, while
still a member of the British House of Commons,

his term of service not having expired, ne does
not appear to have taken any active part in the
Legislature, nor in any public affairs after the
expiration of his term of office. He died in New
York on the 24th day of April, 1827.

He was noted throughout his career for his
frank, and at the same time polished manners;
qualities which, combined with a handsome
figure, no doubt contributed their share to his
great personal popularity in Bristol, and his high
social position in his native city. He was not
forgotten after resuming his residence in New
York, by his old constituents on the other side
of the water; a spirited election ballad of 1812
referring to past triumphs under his leadership,
as an incitement to exertion in favor of a distin-
guished successor, Romilly. Wo quote its open-
ing stanzas :

THE GOLDEN DATS OF HARRY CRUGER.

Eight-and-thirty years ago,* by a resolute exertion,
Bristol's independent sons broke the fetters of

coercion ;
And so glorious was the triumph, that it gain'd the

approbation
Of ev'ry liberal-minded man throughout the British

nation.
Chorus —

O the golden days of honest Harry Cruger !

With pleasure we reflect upon the days of
Harry Crugee.

Then the minions of corruption, and the weight of
their long purses,

Were scarcely more regarded than their promises or
curses :

Each freeman was impelled by disinterested prin-
ciple—

A stimulus that renders every honest cause invin-
cible.

0 the golden days, <fec.

The patriot-five that warm'd the heart on such a

bright occasion,
Requires no more at present than a little renovation ;
What freemen did in seventy-four, to rid themselves

of slavery,
They very well may do in twelve, 'gainst arrogance

and knavery.

0 the golden days, &c.

WILLIAM BAETEAM.
Coleridge, whose love of universal knowledge
and constant desire to gratify the imagination,
led him to be a diligent reader of the reports of
travellers, particularly those who made original
observations in regions of adventure and disco-
very, of the fidelit}7 and essential value of whose
narratives he was a most discriminating judge,
said of these productions, "the latest book of
travels I know, written in the spirit of the old tra-
vellers, is Bartram's account of his tour in the Flo-
ridas. It is a work of high merit every way."t
The author, who was the honored subject of this
eulogy, was William Bartram, who printed in
Philadelphia in 1791, in an octavo volume, his
Travels through North and South Carolina,,
Georgia, East anal West Florida, the Cherokee

* Thirty-eight Tears before Mr. Cruzer was first chosen
Member of Parliament.

t Specimens of the Table Talk of the late Samuel Tayloj
Coleridge, March 12, 1827. .

224

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Country, the Extensive Territories of the Musco-
gulges or Creek Confederacy, and the Country
of the Choctaics. Containing an account of the
soil and natural productions of those regions;
together with observations on the manners of the
Indians. The style of this work is distinguished
by its simple love of nature and vivacity. It
breathes of the freshness of a new land : every
sensation is pleasurable, welcomed by health.
The writer lived before that stage of the civiliza-
tion of great cities which silences the voice of
natural emotion raised in the expression of grati-
tude to Heaven or affection to man. Perhaps
the simple life and pure tastes of the Quaker
facilitated his lively gratification of the senses and
emotions. All his faculties are alive in his book,
whether he describes a tree, a fish, a bird, beast,
Indian, or hospitable planter. He detects fra-
grance, vitality, and health everywhere in the
animal world.

^>„ °n-

\j$<&rd~*.

"William Bartram came naturally by his tastes
in these pursuits. He was the fourth son of John
Bartram — born in Pennsylvania in 1699 — the ear-
liest of American botanists, and the founder of the
first Botanical Garden in the country. His ac-
quaintance with medicine and occupation as a
farmer had led him to the study of plants. The
specimens which he collected were sent to Lon-
don, and secured him the correspondence of Peter
Collinson, the Quaker lover of science and the
friend of Franklin. He was a great traveller in
search of his favorite objects in natural history in
the old provinces, making his way to the head
waters of the lakes and rivers of New York and
Pennsylvania, through what was then a wilder-
ness, and accomplishing, when he was nearly
seventy, a full exploration of the St.* John's river
in Florida. In 1751 some observations made by
Bartram on his travels from Pennsylvania to
Lake Ontario, and communicated to his friends
in London, were published by them in a thin
octavo, with an appendix containing the account
of Niagara by the Swedish traveller Kalm.*
The style of Bartram is crude, but his observa-
tions show the genius of the naturalist.

Of his southern journey an account was pub-
lished in 1766-t It consists of a description of the
country in its main features of climate, soil, natu-
ral productions, and opportunities for cultivation,

* Observations on the Inhabitants, Climate, Soil, Pavers,
Productions, Animals, and other matters worthy of notice,
made by Mr. John Bartram, in his Travels from Pennsylvania
to Onondago, Oswego and the Lake Ontario, in Canada. To
which is annexed a curious account of the Cataracts at Niagara,
by Mr. Peter Kalm, a Swedish gentleman who travelled there.
London. J. Whiston & White, 1751. Svo. pp. 94. Kalm was a
pupil of Linnaeus at Upsal. and came to America a' his insti-
gation. From 1748-51 he was in America, where he was inti-
mate with Golden, Logan, Franklin, and Bartram. His three
volumes of travels in this country were translated from the
Swedish into German, and thence into English by J. Eeinoid
Forster, in 1771. Kalm died in 1779.

t A Description of East-Florida, with a journal, kept by John
Bartram, of Philadelphia. Botanist to His Majesty for the Flo-
ridas; upon a journey from St. Augustine' up' the river St.
John's, as far as the Lakes. With explanatory botanical notes.
Illustrated with an accurate Map of East Florida, and two
plans, one of St. Augustine, and the. other of the Bay of Espi-
litu Santo. The third edition, much enlarged and improved.

with a journal appended of actual observations
(Dec. 9,'l765, Feb. 11, 1766). These are intro-
duced in the edition before us by a dedication
and recommendation from the pen of Dr. AVilliam
Stork, who had the settlement of the country at
heart. Bartram's observations are plainly set
down, and his tract has the interest of most
original notices of the kind. His mention of the
staple productions of the several colonies in 1766,
is a point from which to measure the develop-
ment of the country: — "Since every colony in
America seems to have, as it were, a staple com-
modity peculiar to itself, as Canada the fur;
Massachusetts Bay, fish ; Connecticut, lumber ;
New York and Pennsylvania, wheat; Virginia
and Maryland, tobacco ; North Carolina, pitch
and tar ; South Carolina, rice and indigo ; Geor-
gia, rice and silk."

■In a letter to Jared Eliot, dated Philadelphia,
Sept. 1, 1775, introducing John Bartram, Frank-
lin writes, " I believe you will find him to be at
least twenty folio pages, large paper, well filled,
on the subjects of botany, fos:-ils, husbandry, and
the first creation." Hector St. John, in his Let-
ters of an American Farmer, has a long descrip-
tion of an alleged visit paid by a Russian gentle-
man to John Bartram, which is evidently an
ticcount of his own observations of the amiable
naturalist. He mentions an inscription over the
door of his greenhouse,

Slave to no sect, who takes no private road,
But looks through nature up to nature's God.

The character of John Bartram was marked
by its strength and simplicity, and by his love for
the moral precepts of the Bible. Born and educat-
ed a Quaker, he did .not escape some imputations
of imperfect orthodoxy. His natural piety was
witnessed by the inscription engraved by his own
hands upon a stone placed on the outside of his
house, over the front window of his study —

'Tis God alone, Almighty Lord,
The Holy one, by me adored.
Joun Baeteam, 1770.

He died September 21, 1777.

It was at the Botanic Garden on the banks of
the Schuylkill, which the father founded, and in
the house also built by his own hands, that Wil-
liam Bartram, the son, was born, February 9,
1739. He had for his tutor Charles Thomson,
subsequently the honest and spirited republican
of the old Continental Congress. He had an early
talent for drawing, which led him to think of the
congenial pursuits of printing and engraving ; but
he adopted the life of a merchant, which he soon
abandoned ; for before he was thirty years of age

Hie Segetes, illic veniuut felieins nvae
Arborei Fructus alibi, atque injussa viresennt
Gramina Nonne vides croceos ut Tmolus Odores,
India mittet Ebur, molles sua Tliura Sabtei ?

Yiryil, Georgia.

London ; sold by W. Nicoll, at No. 51 St. Paul's Church Yard;

and T. Jefferies," at Chariug-Cross, Geographer to his Majesty.

MDCCLXIX.

WILLIAM BARTKAM.

225

we find him accompanying his father on his Flo-
rida tour, and engaging in the cultivation of in-
digo. His own travels in that region were corn-

tram's IIoUSC.

menced in 1772, at the request of Dr. Fothergill,
the distinguished botanist and liberal and benevo-
lent friend of science, and he occupied live years
in his natural history pursuits in Georgia, South
Carolina, and the Floridas. On his "return to
Philadelphia he quietly passed his time in scien-
tific occupations, residing at the old Botanic Gar-
den at Kingsessing, never marrying, though oc-
casionally rallied on the subject by his London
friend Collinson. In 1782 he was elected Pro-
fessor of Botany in the University of Pennsyl-
vania, but did not accept the position on account
of his health. lie assisted Wilson in his Ameri-
can Ornithology. His friend Barton was indebt-
ed to his pencil for drawings of the plates of his
Elements of Botany. In 1789 he wrote a reply
to a series of questions proposed to him on the
condition of the Creek and Cherokee Indians, of
whose manners he had been a diligent and curi-
ous observer, which has been lately reprinted
from the original manuscript in the Transactions
of the American Ethnological Society. The name
of his correspondent in this work has been lost,
but the probability rests with Dr. B. S. Barton,
who refers in his Memoir on the Origin of the
American Nations, to a MS. of Bartram on these
subjects iu his possession.* His views of the
character of the Southern Indians in this sketch,
as well as in his Travels, place them in a very
favorable light, for their possession of many ho-
norable personal qualities.

In May, 1797, he was visited by Dunlap, in
company with Brockden Brown, at the Botanic
Garden, and the curious historiographer and
painter has left a sketch of his appearance: —
'■ Arrived at the botanist's garden, we approached
an old man, who, with a rake in his hand, was
breaking the clods of earth in a tulip bed. His
hat was old and Happed over his face ; his coarse
shirt was seen near his neck, as he wore no cra-
vat or kerchief; his waistcoat and breeches were
both of leather, and his shoes were tied with lea-
ther strings. We approached and accosted him.
He ceased his work, and entered into conver-
sation with the ease and politeness of nature's
nobleman. His 'countenance was expressive of

benignity and happiness. Tins was the botanist,
traveller, and philosopher we had come to see.
He had pointed out many curious plants."*

Bartram appears to have been engaged in these
friendly pursuits of science to the last, for it is
recorded he wrote an article on the natural his-
tory of a plant, a few minutes before his death,
which happened suddenly, by the rupture of a
bloodvessel in the lungs, July 22, 1823, in the
eighty-fifth year of his age. The correspondence
of the Bartrams and Humphry Marshall, who
was the cousin of John Bartram and author of a
valuable Treatise on the Forest Trees of North
America, with their scientific friends in Europe
and at home, is of interest for its simple, unaffect-
ed character, and the curiosity and information
of many of its details. This correspondence was
published in 1849, with many other interesting
memorials, by William Darlington.t

ErnEMERA.

Leaving Picolata, I continued to ascend the river.
I observed this day, during my progress up the
river, incredible numbers of small flying insects, of
the genus termed by naturalists Ephemera, continu-
ally emerging from the shallow water near shore,
some of them immediately taking their flight to the
land, whilst myriads crept up the grass and her-
bage, where remaining for a short time, as they ac-
quired sufficient strength, they took their flight
also, following their kindred to the main land.
Tins resurrection from the deep, if I may so express
it, commences early in the morning, and ceases after
the sun is up. At evening they are seen in clouds
of innumerable millions, swarming and wantoning
in the still air, gradually drawing near the river.
They descend upon its surface, and there quickly
end their day, after committing their eggs to the
deep ; which being for a little while tossed about,
enveloped in a viscid scum, are hatched, and the
little Larvae descend into their secure and dark habi-
tation, in the oozy bed beneath, where they remain
j gradually increasing in size, until the returning
| spring ; they then change to a Nymph, when the
j genial heat brings them, as it were, into existence,
j and they again arise into the world. This fly seems
to be delicious food for birds, frogs, and fish. In the
morning, when they arise, and in the evening, when
they return, the tumult is great indeed, and the sur-
face of the water along shore broken into bubbles,
or spirted into the air, by the contending aquatic
tribes; and such is the avidity of the fish and frogs,
that they spring into the air after this delicious

f"'e>'- .

Early in the evening, after a pleasant day's voy-
age, I made a convenient and safe harbor, in a little
lagoon, under an elevated bank, on the West shore
of the river ; where I shall entreat the reader's pa-
tience, whilst wc behold the closing scene of the
short-lived Ephemera, and communicate to each other
the reflections which so singular an exhibition might
rationally suggest to an inquisitive mind. Our
place of observation is happily situated under the
protecting shade of majestic Live Oaks, glorious
Magnolias, and the fragrant Orange, open to the
view of the great river and the still waters of the
lagoon just before us.

* Prefatory note?, by E. G. Squier, to Observations on the
Creek and Cherokee Indians, by William Bartram.— Transac-
tions Am. Etb. aoc. vol. iii. pt. 1.
vol.. I. — 15

* Hist. Am. Theatre, 170.

t Memorials of John Bartram and Humphry Marshall, with
Notices of their Botanical Contemporaries, by William Dar-
lington, 1849.

226

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

At the cool eye's approach, the sweet enchanting
melody of the feathered songsters gradually ceases,
and they betake themselves to their leafy coverts for
security and repose.

Solemnly and slowly move onward, to the river's
shore, the rustling crowds of the Ephemera. How
awful the procession ! innumerable millions of
winged beings, voluntarily verging on to destruc-
tion, to the brink of the grave, where they behold
bands of their enemies with wide open jaws, ready
to receive them. But as if insensible of their dan-
ger, gay and tranquil each meets his beloved mate
iu the still air, inimitably bedecked in their new
nuptial robes. What eye can trace them, in their
varied wanton amorous chases, bounding and flut-
tering on the odoriferous air! With what peace,
love, and joy, do they end the last moments of their
existence ?

I think we may assert, without any fear of exag-
geration, that there are annually of these beautiful
winged beings, which rise into existence, and for a
few moments take a transient view of the glory of
the Creator's works, a number greater than the
whole race of mankind that have ever existed since
the creation ; and that, only from the shores of this
river. How many then must have been produced
since the creation, when we consider the number of
large rivers in America, in comparison with which,
this river is but a brook or rivulet !

The importance of the existence of these beautiful
and delicately formed little creatures, whose frame
and organization are equally wonderful, more deli-
cate, and perhaps as complicated as those of the
most perfect human being, is well worth a few mo-
ments' contemplation ; 1 mean particularly when
they appear iu the fly state. And if we consider
the very short period of that stage of existence,
which we may reasonably suppose to be the only
space of their life that admits of pleasure and enjoy-
ment, what a lesson doth it not afford us of the
vanity of our own pursuits!

Their whole existence in this world is but one
complete year ; and at least three hundred and sixty
days of that time they are in the form of an ugly
grub, buried in mud, eighteen inches under water,
and in this condition scarcely locomotive, as each
larva or grub has but its own narrow solitary cell,
from which it never travels or moves, but in a per-
pendicular progression of a few inches, up and down,
from the bottom to the surface of the mud, in order
to intercept the passing atoms for its food, and get a
momentary respiration of fresh air; and even hero
it must be perpetually on its guard, in order to es-
cape the troops of fish and shrimps watching to
catch it, and from whom it ha3 no escape, but by
instantly retreating back into its cell. One would
be npt almost to imagine them created merely for
the food of fish and other animals.

CEOCODILES ON TnE ST. JOnN'S.

The evening was temperately cool and calm.
The crocodiles began to roar and appear in uncom-
mon numbers along the shores and in the river. I
fixed my camp in an- open plain, near the utmost
projection of the promontory, under the shelter of a
large live oak, winch stood on the highest part of
the ground, and but a few yards from my boat.
From this open, high situation, I had a free prospect
of the river, which was a matter of no trivial con-
sideration to me, having good reason to dread the
subtle attacks of the alligators, who were crowding
about my harbour. Having collected a good
quantity of wood for the purpose of keeping up a
light ami smoke during the night, I began to think
of preparing my supper, when, upon examining my

stores, I found but a scanty provision. I thereupon
determined, as the most expeditious way of supply-
ing my necessities, to take my bob and try for some
trout. About one hundred yards above my harbour
began a cove or bay of the river, out of which
opened a large lagoon. The mouth or entrance
from the river to it was narrow, but the waters
soon after spread and formed a little lake, extending
into the marshes : its entrance and shores within I
observed to be verged with floating lawns of the
pistia and nymphea and other aquatic plants; these
I knew were excellent haunts for trout.

The verges and islets of the lagoon were elegantly
embellished with flowering plants and shrubs; the
laughing coots with wings half spread were tripping
over the little coves, and hiding themselves in the
tufts of grass; young broods of the painted summer
teal, skimming the still surface of the waters, and
following the watchful parent unconscious of dan-
ger, were frequently surprised by the voracious
trout ; and he, in turn, as often by the subtle
greedy alligator. Behold him rushii.g forth from
the flags and reeds. His enormous body swells.
His plaited tail, brandished high, floats upon the
lake. The waters like a cataract descend fiom his
opening jaws. Clouds of smoke issue from his di-
lated nostrils. The earth trembles with his thunder.
When immediately from the opposite coast of the
lagoon, emerges from the deep his rival champion.
They suddenly dart upon each other. The boiling
surface of the lake marks their rapid course, and
a terrific conflict commences. They now sink to
the bottom folded together in horrid wreaths. The
water becomes thick and discoloured. Again they
rise, their jaws clap together, re-echoing through
the deep surrounding forests. Again they sink,
when the contest ends at the muddy bottom of the
lake, and the vanquished makes a hazardous es-
cape, hiding himself in the muddy turbulent waters
and sedge on a distant shore. The proud victor ex-
ulting returns to the place of action. The shores
and forests resound his dreadful roar, together with
the triumphing shouts of the plaited tribes aiound,
witnesses of the horrid combat.

My apprehensions were highly alarmed after
being a spectator of so dreadful a battle. It was
obvious that every delay would but tend to in-
crease my dangers and difficulties, as the sun was
near setting, and the alligators gathered around my
harbour from all quarters. From these considera-
tions I concluded to be expeditious in my trip to the
lagoon, in order to take some fish. Not thinking it
prudent to take my fusee with me, lest I might lose
it overboard in case of a battle, which I had every
reason to dread before my return, I therefore fur-
nished myself with a club for my defence, went on
board, and penetrating the first line of those which
surrounded my harbour, they gave way; but being
pursued by several very large ones, I kept strictly on
the watch, and paddled with all my might towards the
entrance of the lagoon, hoping to be sheltered there
from the multitude of my assailants; but ere I had
half-way reached the place, I was attacked on all
sides, several endeavouring to overset the canoe.
My situation now became precarious to the Inst de-
gree: two very large ones attacked me closely, at
the same instant, rushing up with their heads and
part of their bodies above the water, roaring terri-
bly aud belching floods of water over me. They
struck their jaws together so close to my ears, as al-
most to stun me, and I expected every moment to be
dragged out of the boat and instantly devoured.
But I applied my weapons so effectually about me,
though at random, that I was so successful as to
beat them off a little; when finding that they de-

WILLIAM BAETRAM.

227

signed to renew the battle, I made for the shore, as
the only means left me for my preservation ; for, by
keeping close to it, I should have my enemies on
one side of me only, whereas I was before sur-
rounded by them ; and there was a probability, if
pursued to the last extremity, of saving myself by
jumping out of the canoe on shore, as it is easy to
outwalk them on land, although comparatively as
swift as lightning in the water. I found this last
experiment alone could fully answer my expectations,
for as soon as I gained the shore, they drew off and
kept aloof. This was a happy relief, as my confi-
dence was, in some degree, recovered by it. On
recollecting myself, I discovered that I had almost
reached the entrance of the lagoon, and determined
to venture in, if possible, to take a few fish, and then
return to my harbour, while daylight continued ;
for I could now, with caution and resolution, make
my way with safety along shore ; and indeed there
was no other way to regain my camp, without leav-
' ing my boat and making my retreat through the
marshes and reeds, which, if I could even effect,
would have been in a manner throwing myself
away, for then there would have been no hopes of
ever recovering my bark, and returning in safety to
any settlements of men. I accordingly proceeded,
and made good my entrance into the lagoon, though
not without opposition from the alligators, who
formed a line across the entrance, but did not pur-
sue me into it, nor was I molested by any there,
though there were some very large ones in a cove at
the upper end. I soon caught more trout than I
had present occasion for, and the air was too hot
and sultry to admit of their being kept for many
hours, even though salted or barbecued. I now
prepared for my return to camp, which I succeeded
in with but little trouble, by keeping close to the
shore ; yet I was opposed upon re-entering the river
out of the lagoon, and pursued near to my landing
(though not closely attacked), particularly by an
old daring one, about twelve feet in length, who
kept close after me; and when I stepped on shore
and turned about, in order to draw up my canoe, he
rushed up near my feet, and lay there for some
time, looking me in the face, his head and shoulders
out of water. I resolved he should pay for his
temerity, and having a heavy load in my fusee, I
ran to my camp, and returning with my piece,
found him with his foot on the gunwale of the boat,
in search of fish. On my coming up lie withdrew
sullenly and slowly into the water, but soon re-
turned and placed himself in his former position,
looking at me, and seeming neither fearful nor any
way disturbed. I soon dispatched him by lodging
the contents of my gun in his head, and then pro-
ceeded to cleanse and prepare my fish for supper:
and accordingly took them out of the boat, laid
them down on the sand close to the water, and
began to scale them : when, raising my head, I saw
before me, through the clear water, the head and
shoulders of a very large alligator, moving slowly
towards me. I instantly stepped back, when, with
a sweep of iiis tail, he brushed off several of my fish.
It was certainly most providential that I looked up
at that instant, as the monster would probably, in
less than a minute, have seized and dragged me into
the river. This incredible boldness of the animal
disturbed me greatly, supposing there could now be
no reasonable safety for me during the night, but by
keeping constantly on the watch ; I therefore, as
soon as I had prepared the fish, proceeded to secure
myself and effects in the best manner I could. In
the first place, I hauled my bark upon the shore,
almost clear out of the water, to prevent their over-
setting or sinking her; after this, every moveable

was taken out and carried to my camp, which was
but a few yards off; then ranging some dry wood
in such order as was the most convenient, I cleared
the ground round about it, that there might be no
impediment in my way, in case of an attack in the
night, cither from the water or the land ; for I dis-
covered by this time, that this small isthmus, from
its remote situation and fruitfulness, was resorted to
by bears and wolves. Having prepared myself in
the best manner I could, I charged my gun, and
proceeded to reconnoitre my camp and the adjacent
grounds ; when I discovered that the peninsula and
grove, at the distance of about two hundred yards
from my encampment, on the land side, were in-
vested by a cypress swamp, covered with water,
which below was joined to the shore of the little
lake, and above to the marshes surrounding the la-
goon; so that I wasconfined to an island exceedingly
circumscribed, and I found there was no other re-
treat for me, in case of an attack, but by either as-
cending one of the large oaks, or pushing off with
my boat,

It was by this time dusk, and the alligators had
nearly ceased their roar, when I was again alarmed
by a tumultuous noise that seemed to be in my har-
bour, and therefore engaged my immediate attention.
Returning to my camp, I found it undisturbed, and
then continued on to the extreme point of the pro-
montory, where I saw a scene, new and surprising,
which at first threw my senses into such a tumult,
that it was some time before I could comprehend
wrhat was the matter; however, I soon accounted
for this prodigious assemblage of crocodiles at this
place, which exceeded everything of the kind I had
ever heard of.

How shall I express myself so as to convey an ade-
quate idea of it to the reader, and at the same time
avoid raising suspicions of my veracity ? Should I
say, that the river (in this place) from shore to
shore, and perhaps near half a mile above and below
me. appeared -to be one solid bank offish, of various
kinds, pushing through this narrow pass of St. Juan's
into the little lake, on their return down the river,
and that the alligators were in such incredible num-
bers, and so close together from shore to shore, that
it would have been easy to have walked across on
their heads, had the animals been harmless! What
expressions can sufficiently declare the shocking scene
that for some minutes continued, while this mighty
army of fish were forcing the pass ? During this at-
tempt, thousands, I may say hundreds of thousands,
of them were caught and swallowed by the devour-
ing alligators. I have seen an alligator take up out
of the water several great fish at a time, and just
squeeze them betwixt his jaws, while the tails of the
great trout flapped about his eyes and lips, ere he
had swallowed them. The horrid noise of their
closing jaws, their plunging amidst the broken
banks of fish, and rising with their prey some feet
upright above the water, the floods of water and
blood rushing out of their mouths, and the clouds of
vapour issuing from their wide nostrils, were truly
frightful, Thisseeue continued at intervals during the
night, as the fish came to the pass. After this Bight,
shocking and tremendous as it was, I found myself
somewhat easier and more reconciled to my situa-
tion ; being convinced that their extraordinary as-
semblage here was owing to this annual feast of
fish ; and that they were so well employed in their
own element, that I had little occasion to fear their
paying me a visit.

It being now almost night, I returned to my camp,
where I had left my fish boiling, and my kettle of
rice stewing; and having with me oil, pepper, and
salt, and excellent oranges hanging in abundance

22S

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMEEICAN LITERATURE

over my head (a valuable substitute for vinegar), I
sat down and regaled myself cheerfully. Having
finished my repast, I rekindled nry fire for light and
whilst I was revising the notes of my past day's
journey, I was suddenly roused with a noise behind
me toward the main land. I sprang up on my feet,
and listening, I distinctly heard some creature
wading in the water of the isthmus. I seized my
gun and went cautiously from my camp, directing
my steps towards the noise : when I had advanced
about thirty yards, I halted behind a coppice of
orange trees, and soon perceived two very large
bears, which had made their way through the
water, and had landed in the grove, about one hun-
dred yards' distance from me, and were advancing
towards me. I waited until they were within
thirty yards of me: they there began to snutf and
look towards my camp: I snapped my piece hut it
flashed, on which they both turned about and gal-
loped off, plunging through the water and swamp,
never halting, as I suppose, until they reached
fast land, as 1 could hear them leaping and plunging
a long time. They did not presume to return
again, nor was I molested by any other creatures
except being occasionally awakened by the whoop-
ing of owls, screaming of bitterns, or the wood-rats
running ampngst the leaves.

EVENING SCENE IN FLOEIDA.

We approached the savanna at the south end by
a narrow isthmus of level ground, open to the light
of day, and clear of trees or bushes, and not greatlv
elevated above the common level, having on our
right a spacious meadow, embellished with a little
lake, one verge of which was not very distant from
us; its shore is a moderately high, circular bank,
partly encircling a cove of the pond, in the form of
a half moon; the water is clear and deep, and, at
(he distance of some hundred yards, was a large
floating field (if I may so express myself) of the
Nymphaea nelumbo, with their golden blossoms
waving to and fro on their lofty stems. Beyond
these fields of Nympham were spacious plains, en-
compassed by dark groves, opening to extensive
pine forests, other plains still appearing beyond
them.

This little lake and surrounding meadows would
have been alone sufficient to surprise and delight
the traveller ; but being placed so near the great sa-
vanna, the attention is quickly drawn off, and wholly
engaged in the contemplation of the unlimited, va-
ried, and truly astonishing native wild scenes of
landscape and perspective, there exhibited : how
is the mind agitated and bewildered, at being thus,
as it were, placed on the borders of a new world!
On the first view of such an amazing display of the
wisdom and power of the supreme author of nature,
the mind for a moment seems suspended, and im-
pressed with awe.

This isthmus being the common avenue or road
of Indian travellers, we pitched our camp at a small
distance from it, on a rising knoll near the verge of
the savanna, under some spreading Live Oaks; this
situation was open and airy, and gave us an un-
bounded prospect over the .adjacent plains. Dewy
evening now came on ; the animating breezes,
which cooled and tempered the meridian hours
of this sultry season, now gently ceased ; the glori-
ous sovereign of the day, calling in his bright beam-
ing emanations, left us in his absence to the milder
government and protection of the silver queen of
night, attended by millions of brilliant luminaries.
The thundering alligator had ended his horrifying
roar; the silver plumed gannet and stork, the sage
and solitary pelican of the wilderness, had already

retired to their silent nocturnal habitations, in the
neighbouring forests; the sonorous savanna cranes,
in well-disciplined squadrons, now rising from the
earth, mounted aloft in spiral circles, far above the
dense atmosphere of the humid plain ; they again
viewed the glorious sun, and the light of day still
gleaming on their polished feathers, they sung
their evening hymn, then in a straight line majesti-
cally descended, and alighted on the towering
Palms or lofty Pines, their secure and peaceful
lodging places. All around being still and silent,
we repaired to rest.

EDWAED BANCEOTT.
Of this political writer, who figured in England
during the Revolution, we find an account in the
Autobiography of John Adams,* from which it
appears that he was a native of Massachusetts
Bay, in the town of Suffield; that he had been
a pupil of Silas Deane, when that negotiator was
a schoolmaster ; that after " some education" he
had been apprenticed to a trade, from which he
ran away and went to sea, in debt to his master ;
that he was successful in his adventures, and re-
turned to his native town to make honorable
compensation to his employer : after this that he
"went to sea again," reappearing in England,
where he took up his residence and published his
Natural History of Guiana, " a work, considering
the advantages of the author, of great merit;"
that in addition he wrote in England the History
of Sir Charles Wentworth, " a novel which no
doubt was recommended to many readers, and
procured a considerably better sale, by the plen-
tiful abuse and vilification of Christianity which
he had taken care to insert into it ;" that '■ he had
also been in the intimacy and confidence of Dr.
Franklin, who had recommended him to the edi-
tors and proprietors of the Monthly Retiew, in
which his standing share was to review all publi-
cations relative to America." Adams adds that
he had this latter information from Franklin him-
self, and says — " I understood this very well, as I
thought — to wit that Bancroft was the ostensible
reviewer, but that Franklin was always consulted
before the publication." The other details given
by Adams are curious. " Bancroft," he goes on
to sav from information given by the personage
himself, " was a meddler in the stocks as well as
reviews, and frequently went into the alley, and
into the deepest and darke-t retirements and re-
cesses of the brokers and jobbers, Jews as well
as Christians, and found amusement as well per-
haps as profit, by listening to all the news and
anecdotes, true or false, that were there whis-
pered or more boldly pronounced." Bancroft
became afterwards " a confidential associate of
Franklin in Paris." " He had," continues Adams,
" a clear head and a good pen. He wrote some
things relative to the connection between France
and America, with the assistance of Franklin and
Deane as I presume, which were translated into
French by SI. Turgot or the Duke de la Rochefou-
cauld, I forget which, and printed in a publication
called Affaires de V Angleterre et de VAmerique,
and which were very well done. After the peace
he obtained a patent in France for the exclusive
importation of the bark of the yellow oak for the

* Works, iii. 141.

BENJAMIN CHURCH.

229

dyers, and then he went to England and procured
a similar patent there, by both of which together
he is said to have realized an income of eight
hundred a year."

The work on Guiana alluded to, was published
in London in 1769.* It is in the form of letters
addressed to his brother from River Demerary,
in 1766, and is dedicated to Dr. William Pitcairn,
Fellow of the Royal College of Physicians in
London, Bancroft was a member of this society,
as also a Fellow of the Royal Society. In his
book are described the wourali poison, and other
novelties for that time, of the country. It is a
readable account mainly of the savages and ani-
mals in a picturesque region. In the same year
he published a volume in support of American
Colonial Rights, entitled Remarks on the Review
of the Controversy between Great Britain and
her Colonies, the author of the review in question
being William Knox, Under-Secretary of State.t

When Bancroft went to Paris, as stated by Ad-
ams, it was to meet Deane and render assistance to
the American cause. He is also remembered as the
authority, with Priestley, for the story of Frank-
lin's having worn the Court suit of " spotted
Manchester velvet," in which he was dressed at
the Privy Council • meeting with Wedderburn,
again at the signing of the treaty with France.
Bancroft was present at the Privy Council scene,
and subsequently gave an account of the whole
aftair to William Temple Franklin.]; His name
appears occasionally in the Franklin Correspon-
dence.

In 1794, Bancroft published the first volume
of a work entitled Experimental Researches con-
cerning the Philosophy of Permanent Colors, and
the best means of producing them by dyeing, calico
printing, &c, followed by a second in 1813.

He never returned to America. His death oc-
curred in 1821.§

BENJAMIN CHURCH.'

Benjamix CrroRcri was born at Newport, Rhode
Island, August 24, 1734. He was the son of a
deacon of the same name in Dr. Byles's Church in
Boston, and entered the Latin school of that city
in 1745. In 1754 he was graduated at Harvard.
His first poetical production, The Choice, a poem,
after the manner of Mr. Pomfret, by a young
Gentleman, was composed while he was at col-

* An Essay on the Natural History of Guiana in South Ame-
rica, containing a description of many curious Productions in
the Animal and Vegetable Systems of that Country. Together
with an Account of the Religion, Manners, and Customs, of
several tribes of its Indian inhabitants, interspersed with a
variety of Literary and Medical Observations; in several let-
ters from a gentleman of the Medical Faculty (luring his resi-
dence in that country. Loudon: Becket. 1769. 8vo. pp. 402.

T Remarks on the Review of the Controversy between
Great Britain and her Colonies, in which the Errors of its
Author are exposed, and the Claims of the Colonies vindicated,
upon the evidence of Historical Facts and authentic records,
to which is subjoined a proposal for terminating the present
unhappy dispute with the Colonies; recovering their Com-
merce; reconciliating their Affection; securing their rights;
and establishing their dependence on a just and permanent
basis. Huiubiy submitted to the consideration of the British
Legislature. By Edward Bancroft.

Consiiia qui dant prava cautis hominibus,
Et perdunt operain et deridentur turpiter.

Phced. Fab. xxv.
London: Printed in the year 17R9. New-London, in New Eng-
land: Reprinted and Sold bv T. Green. 1771. b'vo. pp. ISO.
. X Sparks's Franklin, iv. 483.

§ Rose, Biog. Diet.

lege.* It is smoothly written, and among the
best of the many imitations of that pleasant cas-
tle in the air.

In this poem the author warms with his favor-
ite tastes in book<, for rural and domestic life.
In the first he shows his attachment to the ruling
poet of the day, " unequalled Pope." His choice
in a wife and a country-seat is to be commended.
With Freneau he has the honor of helping
Campbell with a line and an idea. Noticing the
physician Boerhaave, he writes of his death —

At length, fatigu'd with life, he bravely fell,
And Health, with Boerhaave, bade the world fare-
well ;

which will recall the lines in the Pleasures of
Hope, written nearly hah' a century later, where

Hope for a season bade the world farewell,
And Freedom shriek'd as Kosciusko fell.

The coincidence is creditable to Benjamin Church
at the age of eighteen.

He appears to have next studied medicine in
London, and while in England married Miss
Hannah Hill of Ross (Pope's Ross,). He returned
to Boston, where he established himself in the
practice of his profession. He contributed one
or two English poems to the Piefas et Gratulatio,
a volume of congratulatory verses in Latin, Greek,
and English, addressed to George III. on his
accession, by members of Harvard College. In
1765 lie published The Times, a poem by an Ame-
rican, in an anonymous pamphlet of sixteen pa-
ges. It was written soon after the passage of the
stamp act, and its satire is chiefly directed against
that measure and its abettors. In 1766 he wrote
an Elegy on the death of Dr. Mayhew, which is
characterized by much more than the ordinary
vigor sufficient for such productions. His in-
troduction invoking the spirit of truth over the
ashes of the dead, has such fines as these : — ■

Great is the task and glorious is the end,
When the chaste Muse in Virtue's cause engage;
Tis Iter's to patronize, protect, defend,
And hold th' exemplars to a distant age.

Deep into times rolled by — to dart her ken,
At the tribunal of her lowly mind,
T' arraign the conduct of the mightiest men,
Acquit, or doom the Nimrods of mankind:

and in 1769 An Address to a Provincial BasJiaw.
By a Son of Liberty. Printed in (the Tyrannic
Administration of St. Francisco*) 1769. Like
The Times, it is full of the warmest expressions
of sympathy with the popular cause, of which
the author was now one of the recognised leaders.
In 1770 he examined the body of Crispus Attucks,
the mulatto slain in the Boston massacre, and Ins
depo.sition appears in the narrative published by
the town. In 1773 he delivered an oration on
the fourth anniversary of the contest in the Old
South church, which was so densely crowded
that the orator and moderator of the meeting,
John Hancock, had to be introduced through a
window. Public expectation was not disap-
pointed, the address being received with " univer-

* It is so stated in a reprint of the poem in 1S02, by Isaiah
Thomas.
t Governor Bernard.

230

CYCLOPiEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

The OH South Church.

sal applause," and soon after printed by request.
It maintains its place in public estimation as one
of tbe best of the Boston Massacre orations. In
addition to these productions Church wrote An
Elegy to the memory of that pious and eminent
Servant of Jesus Christ, ike Reverend Mr. George
Whitefield, on his death September 30, 1770, and
was a frequent contributor of pulitiral essays and
popular songs to the periodicals of the day. He
was chosen a member of the Massachusetts Legis-
lature and of the Provincial Congress in 1774,
and in the same year physician-general to the
American army.

Church resided in an elegant mansion at Bayn-
ham, on Nippenickett pond, near Boston, which
he had erected about the year 1768, and where
he appears to have led an extravagant and licen-
tious life. "Want of money to support wasteful
expenditure seems, as in the case of Arnold, to
have led to the treason which suddenly changed
a career of honor to one of infamy. In 1774
Church was found to have written parodies of
popular songs composed by himself in favor of
liberty, for the Tory journals. It was also noticed
that his articles in defence of the American cause
were followed by ably written answers in the
government journals. General Gage was also
found to be constantly informed in relation to
the patriot movements. Soon after the battle of
Lexington in 1775 further suspicion was excited
by a visit which Church made to Boston on the
pretext of obtaining medicines for the use of the
army. He stated on his return that he was ar-
rested on crossing the lines and taken before
General Gage, who examined him ; but on the sub-
sequent testimony of Deacon Caleb Davis, who
happened to call at Gage's house at the same time,
he appears to have visited Gage more as a friend
than a prisoner. The charge of treasonable con-
duct seems to be further established by the testi-
mony of " a gentleman who studied with Church,"
who stated to Paul Revere, of Boston, a year or
two after, that he knew for certain that, a short
time before the Battle of Lexington — for he then

lived with him and took care of his business and
books — he had no money by him, and was much
drove for money ; that all at once he had several
hundred new British guineas.

This double dealing was soon to be closed. On
the fifth of October of the same year Washington
writes to Hancock : " I Lave now a painful,
though necessary duty to perform, respecting Dr.
Church, director-general of the hospital. About
a week ago, Mr. Secretary Ward of Providence,
sent up to me one Wainwood, an inhabitant of
Newport, with a letter directed to Major Cane in
Boston, in characters ; which he said, had been
left with Wainwood some time ago, by a woman
who was kept by Dr. Church. She had before
pressed Wainwood to take her to Capt. Wallace,
at Newport, Mr. Dudley the collector, or George
Eowe, which he declined. She then gave him a
letter, with a strict charge to deliver it to either
of those gentlemen. He suspecting some im-
proper correspondence, kept the letter, and after
soine time opened it; but not being able to read
it, laid it up, where it remained until he received
an obscure letter from the woman, expressing an
anxiety after the original letter. He then com-
municated the whole matter to Mr. Ward, who
sent him up with the papers to me. I immedi-
ately secured the woman ; Tjut for a long time she
was proof against every threat and persuasion to
discover the author. However, at length she
was brought to a confession, and named Dr.
Church. I then immediately secured him, and
all his papers. Upon his first examination, he
readily acknowledged the letter; said it was de-
signed for his brother Fleming, and when deci-
phered would be found to contain nothing crimi-
nal. He acknowledged his never having commu-
nicated the correspondence to any person here
but the girl, and made many protestations of the
purity of his intentions. Baving found a person
capable of deciphering the letter, I, in the mean-
time, had all his papers searched, but found
nothing criminal among them. But it appeared,
on inquiry, that a confidant -had been among
the papers before my messenger arrived."

Church was convicted, by the General Court,
notwithstanding an eloquent defence made by
himself, in which he endeavored to prove that
his communications to the enemy were designed
to impress them with "a high opinion of the
strength of the Americans, in order that the medi-
tated attack might be delayed till the continental
army was stringer,''* and to obtain information
from the royalist forces which he had imparted
to the American leaders and used for the benefit
of his country.! He was expelled from the
House of Representatives of the State, and con-
victed by a court-martial at which Washington
presided. His sentence was referred to Congress,
and that body resolved that he be closely confined
in some secure jail in Connecticut,, without the
use of pen, ink, and paper ; and that no person
be allowed to converse with him except in the
presence and hearing of a magistrate, or the sheriff
of the county. I He was consequently imprisoned
in Norwich jail, but his health failing, was re-

* Kettel!, i. 147.

t Church's Defence is published in the Mass. Hist. Coil

X Itolines's Aunals, ii. 235.

BENJAMIN CHURCH.

231

leased in May, 1776, and permitted to leave the
country. He sailed from Boston* for the West
Indies in a vessel which was never afterwards
heard from. His family received a pension from
the English crown.

THE CHOICE — A TOEM.

If youthful fancy might it's Choice pursue,
And act as natural reason prompts it to ;
If inclination could dispose our state,
And human will might govern future fate ;
Remote from grandeur, I'd be humbly wise,
And all the glitter of a court despise:
Dnskil'd the proud, or vicious to commend,
To cringe to insolence, or fools attend ;
Within myself contented and secure,
Above what mean ambition can endure ;
Nor yet so anxious to obtain a name.
To bleed, for honour on the fields of fame ;
Empty parade, is all that heroes know,
Unless fair Virtue hover in the show.

But in these walls, where Heav'n has fix'd my stay,

One half of life I'd wish to breathe away :

The fall and winter of each future year

I'd humbly hope to spend contented here ;

'Mid the fierce ravage of a wintry storm,

Kind friends to cheer me, moderate wine to warm,

Securely happy we'd delude the day,

And smile the seasons cheerfully away,

No needless show my modest dome should claim,

Neat and genteel without, within the same:

Decently furnish'd to content and please,

Sufficient for necessity and ease;

Vain is the pomp of prodigal expense,

Frugality denotes the man of sense;

My doors the needy stranger should befriend,

And hospitality my board attend ;

With frugal plenty be my table spread,

Those, and those only, whom I love be fed:

The meek and indigent my banquet share,

Who love the master, and approve the fare;

Thy mellow vintage, Lisbon! should abound,

Pouring a mirthful inspiration round;

While laughing Bacchus bathes within the bowl,

Love, mirth, and friendship swallow up the soul.

I'd have few friends, and those by nature true,
Sacred to friendship, and to virtue too;
Tho' but to few an intimate protest,
I'd be no foe, nor useless to the rest :
Each friend belov'd requires a friendly care,
His griefs, dejections, and his fate to shnre ;
For this rny choice should be to bounds coufiu'd,
Nor with a burst of passion flood mankind.

Above the rest, one dear selected friend,
Kind to advise, and cautious to offend ;
To malice, envy, and to pride unknown,
Nor apt to censure foibles, but his own ;
Firm in religion, in his morals just,
Wise in discerning, and advising best ;
Learn'd without pedantry, in temper kind.
Soft in his manners, happy in his mind ;
Is there in whom these social virtues blend,
The Muse lisps Pollio, and she calls him friend :
To him, when flnsh'd with transport I'd repair,
His faithful bosom should my solace share ;

* Tho authorities differ both as to the birth-place of Dr.
Church and the port from which he finally left his country;
Boston being assigned as the scene of both exploits by some,
and Newport by others. We have followed in both cases the
narrative of Mr. Lorinu, in the Hundred Boston Orators,
which he states to be derived from a descendant of Hannah,
the daughter of Dr. Church, and wife of William Kirkby, a
merchant of London.

To him I'd fly when sorrows prove too great,
To him discover all the stings of fate:
His social soul should all my pangs allay,
Tune every nerve and charm my griefs away.
0 how I wish to join the friendly throng,
Elude the hours, and harmonize the song ;
Eacli generous soul still sedulous to please,
With calm good temper, and with mutual ease ;
Glad to receive and give, the keen reply,
Nor approbation to the jest deny.

But at a decent hour with social heart,

In love and humour should my friends depart :

Then to my study, eager I'd repair,

And feast my miud with new refreshment there ;

There plung'd in tho't my active mind should tread,

Through all the labours of the learned dead ;

Homer, great parent of heroiek strains,

Virgil, whose genius was improv'dwith pains;

Horace, in whom the Avit and courtier join'd,

Ovid, the tender, amorous and refin'd ;

Keen Juvenal, whose all-correcting page,

Lasli'd daring vice, and shain'd an impious age ;

Expressive Luean who politely sung,

With hum'rous Martial tickling as he stung ;

Elaborate Terence, studious where he smil'd,

Familiar Plautus, regularly wild ;

With frequent visit these I would survey,

And read, and meditate the hours away.

Nor these alone should on my shelves recline,
But awful Pope! majestically shine,
Unequal'd bard! Who durst thy praise engage?
Not yet grown reverend with the rust of age;
Sure Heav'n alone thy art unrival'd taught,
To think so well, so well express the thought ;
What villain hears thee, but regrets the smart ?
But tears the lurking demon from his heart?
A^irtue attends thee with the best applause,
Conscious desert ! great victor in her cause,
She faithful to thy worth, thy name shall grace,
Beyond all period, and beyond all space:
Go, shine a seraph and thy notes prolong
For angels only merit such a song !

Hail Briton's genius, Milton! deathless name!

Blest with a full satiety of fame:

Who durst attempt impertinence of praise ?

Or sap insidious thy eternal bays?

For greater song, or more exalted fame,

Exceeds humanity to make, or claim.

These to peruse, I'd oft forget to dine,

And suck refection from each mighty line.

Next Addison's great labours should' be join'd,

Prais'd by all tongues and known to all mankind :

With Littleton the tender and correct,

And copious Dryden, glorious in defect;

Nor would I leave the great and pious Young,

Divinely fir'd, and sublime in song.

Next would I add the unaffected Gay,

And gentle Waller, with his flowing lay ;

Last nature-limning Thomson should appear,

Who link'd eternity within his year.

These for diversion, with the comic throng,

Should raise my fancy, and improve my song ;

Extend my view, 'till opening visions roll,

And all Piaeria burets upon my souL

But to inform the mind, and mend the heart,
j Great Tillotson and Butler, light impart ;
; Sagacious Newton, with all science blest,

And Locke, who always thought and reason'd best

But lo! for real worth, and true desert,
Exhaustless science, and extensive art,
Boerhaave superior stands ; in whom we find
The other Saviour of diseas'd mankind :

232

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAS" LITERATURE.

Whose skilful hand could almost life create,
And make us leap the very bounds of fate ;
Death, tyrant death, beholding his decline,
That Boerhaave would his kingdom undermine,
Arm'd with his surest shafts attaek'd this foe,
Who long eluded the repeated throw,
At length fatigu'd with life, he bravely fell,
And health with Boerhaave bade the world farewell.
Thus 'till the year recedes, I'd be employed,
Ease, health and friendship happily enjoy'd;
But when the vernal sun revolves its ray,
Melting hoar winter with her rage away,
When vocal groves a gay perspective yield,
And a new verdure springs from field to field:
With the first larks I'd to the plains retire,
For rural pleasures are my chief desire.

Ah doubly blest! on native verdure laid,

Whose fields support him, and whose arbours shade ;

In his own hermitage in peace resides,

Faun'd by his breeze, and slumb'ring by his tides:

Who drinks a fragrance from paternal groves,

Nor lives ungrateful for the. life he loves.

I'd have a handsome seat not far from town,
The prospect beauteous, and the taste my own;
The fabrick modern, faultless the design,
Not large, nor yet immoderately fine ;
But neat economy my mansion boast,
Nor should convenience be in beauty lost:
Each part should speak superior skill and care,
And all the artist be distinguish'd there.
On some small elevation should it stand,
And a free prospect to the South command ;
Where safe from damps I'd snuff the wholesome gale,
And life and vigour thro' the lungs inhale ;
Eastward my moderate fields should wave with

grain,
Southward the verdure of a broad champaign ;
Where gamesome flocks, and rampant herds might

play,
To the warm sunshine of the vernal day ;
Northward, a garden on a slope should Me,
Finely adjusted to the nicest e}'e ;
In midst of this should stand a cherry grove,
A breezy, blooming canopy of love !
Whose blossom'd boughs the tuneful choir should

cheer,
And pour regalement on the eye and ear :
A gay parterre the vivid box should bound,
To waft a fragrance thro' the fields around ;
Where blushing fruits might tempt another Eve,
Without another serpent to deceive.
Westward, I'd have a thick-set forest grow,
Thro' which the bounded sight should scarcely go ;
Confus'dly rude, the scenery should impart,
A view of nature unimprov'd by art. —

Rapt in the soft retreat, my anxious breast
Pants eager still for something unpossess'd ;
Whence springs this sudden hope, this warm desire ?
To what enjoyment would my soul aspire?
"Pis love! extend my wishes, and my care,
Eden was tasteless 'till an Eve was there:
Almighty love! I own thy powerful swav,
Resign my soul, and willingly obey.

Grant me, kind heav'n, the nymph still forrn'd to

please, '
Impassiouate as infants when at ease ;
Fair as the op'ning rose ; her person small,
Artless as parent Eve before her fall;
Courteous as angels, unre'serv'dlv kind, •
Of modest carriage, and the chastest mind ;
Her temper sweet, her conversation keen,
Not wildly gay, but soberly serene ;

Not talkative, nor apt to take offence.
With female softness join'd to manly sense ;
Her dress and language elegantly plain.
Not sluttish, forward, prodigal, or vain ;
Not proud of beauty, nor elate with praise,
Not fond to govern, but by choice obeys;
True to my arms in body and in soul,
As the touch'd needle to th' attractive pole.
Caution, oppos'd to charms like these were vain.
And man would glory in the silken chain ;
Unlike the sensual wish that burns and stains,
But where the purest admiration reigns ;
Give me, 0 give me ! such superior love,
Before the nectar of the gods above ;
Then time on downy wings would steal away,
And love still be the business of the day.

While sporting flocks in fond rotations court,

And to the thicket pair by pair resort;

While tuneful birds in tender murmurings plead,

Chanting their amorous carols thro' the mead:

Link'd arm in arm we'd search the twilight grove.

Where all inspires with harmony and love:

Ye boughs, your friendly umbrage wide extend!

Guard from rude eyes, and from the sun defend : .

Ye wanton gales! pant gently on my fair,

Thou love-inspiring goddess meet us there!

While soft invited, and with joy obey'd,

We press the herbage, and improve the shade.

But is th' Almighty ever bound to please?
Rul'd by my wish, or studious of my ease?
Shall I determine where his frowns shall fall?
And fence my grotto from the lot of all!
Prostrate, his sovereign wisdom I adore,
Intreat his mercy, but I dare no more:
No constant joys mortality attend,
But sorrows violate, and cares offend ;
Heav'n wisely mixt our pleasures with alloy.
And gilds our sorrows with a ray of joy ;
Life without storms a stagnant pool appeare--,
And grows offensive with unruffled years.
An active state is virtue's proper sphere,
To do, and suffer is our duty here :
Foes to encounter, vices to disdain,
Pleasures to shun, and passions to restrain;
To fly temptation's open, flow'ry road,
And labour to be obstinately good.

Then, blest is he who takes a calm survey,
Of all th' events that paint the checquer'd day ;
Content, that blessing makes the balance evan,
And poises fortune, by the scale of heav'n.

I'll let no future ill my peace destroy,
Or cloud the aspect of apresent joy ;
He who directed and dispens'd the past,
O'errules the present, and shall guide the last,
If Providence a present good has giv'n,
I clasp the boon in gratitude to heav'n:
May resignation fortify my mind,
He cannot be unhappy that's resign'd.
Guard my repose, thou Lord of all within !
An equal temper, and a soul serene ,

0 ! teach me patience when oppos'd to wrong.

Restrain the mad'ning heart, and curb the tongn" ;

May prudence govern, piety control,

All' slander, rage, and bitterness of soul:

Peace, plenty, health and innocence be made.

The blissful tenants of my tranquil shade.

0 let me not maliciously comply,

To that curst action that shall raise a sigh :

I Or cause the wretched orphan to complain.

I Or see the widow's tears, and see in vain :
From a remorseless soul 0 set me free,

j And prompt a pang for every wretoh I see.

ELIZABETH FERGUSON".

233

Whatever station be for me design'd,
May virtue be the mistress of my mind:
May I despise th' abandou'd and the base,
Tho' opulent, or dignified with place ;
And spurn the wretch, who, meanly lost to shame,
Thinks wealth or place, a substitute for fame :
If wisdom, wealth, or honour, heav'n lend,
Teach me those talents happily to spend;
Nor make so blest, as I would wish to live,
Beyond those moments Heav'n is pleas'd to give ;
Then when life trembles on the verge of rest,
And brings expended minutes to the test ;
Absolve me conscience, thou imperial power!
O bless me with a self-approving hour.

ELIZABETH FERGUSON".
Elizabeth, the youngest child of Dr. Thomas
Graeme, a distinguished physician of Philadel-
phia, and a grand-daughter on the mother's side
of Sir William Keith, Governor of Pennsylvania,
was horn in the year 1739. Her early years were
passed at Graeme Park, the country seat of her
father, about twenty miles from Philadelphia, a
place celebrated alike for its cultivated beauties
and the hospitalities of its host ; where she enjoyed
the society of a numerous and refined circle of
persons. In her seventeenth year she became
engaged to a young gentleman. The marriage was
to be celebrated after his return from a residence
in London, for the completion of his legal studies.
The match was for unexplained reasons broken
off, an event productive of much mental suffering
to Miss Graeme. To divert her mind by occupa-
tion, she commenced and completed a translation
of Fenelon,« Telcmaqw in English blank verse.
It has never been published, but the MS. has
been deposited in tho Philadelphia Library. She
devoted herself so closely to this task that her
health was impaired, ami a voyage to Europe be-
came necessary, as a means of restoration. Her
mother urged her departure not only from solici-
tude for tlie daughter's health, but from astrange
wish that her mind might not be distracted from
spiritual contemplation by her daughter's presence
at her anticipated speedy dissolution.

The daughter departed, and the mother died,
as she had anticipated, during her absence.

Miss Graeme was accompanied in her visit to
England by the Rev. Dr. Richard Peters, of Phi-
ladelphia, by whom she was introduced to many
of the leading literary men of the day. Acciden-
tally taking a seat at the York races, next to
Lawrence Sterne, her remark on betting a small
sum on one of the horses in the rear at the outset,
that " the race was not always to the swift nor the
battle to the strong," attracted his notice, and turn-
ing to her he requested the honor of her acquain-
tance. The incident was followed by a long ami
agreeable conversation.

She was much visited on her return, and a
Journal which she had prepared of her travels,
was much sought after. She was urged to pub-
lish it, but declined. Her society was eagerly
sought, and on Saturday evenings, when she re-
mained at home to receive her friends, her father's
house was thronged by delighted guests.

One of these Saturday evening visitors was
Mr. Hugh Henry Ferguson, a handsome young
Scotchman, who was so charmed by his hostess,
that, though ten years her junior, he offered her
his hand. He was accepted, and in a few months

married. They settled at Graeme Park, which,
by the death of her father, had become Mrs. Fer-
guson's property, where they resided until the
outbreak of the Revolution in 1775 ; when the
husband took the side of the Crown, and the pair
separated, and were not again united. Mrs. Fer-
guson remained at her country residence, where
she performed in an unostentatious manner many
acts of benevolence, among which are recorded
the gift of a large quantity of linen to the Ameri-
can prisoners taken at the battle of Germautown,
and the gift of twenty .dollars, the eighth part of
her income at the time, to a ruined merchant
thrown into jail by his creditors. She refused to
give her name to the beneficiary, and the good
deed was only discovered by his description of her
person being identified.

Mrs. Ferguson figures in the history of the Re-
volution as the bearer, immediately after the
British occupation of Philadelphia, of an offensive
letter from the Rev. Mr. Duehe to Washington.
The General sent the letter to Congress, and hint-
ed to Mrs. Ferguson, that he " highly disapproved
the intercourse she seemed to have been carrying
on, and expected it would be discontinued." She
does not seem to have profited by this, as Ave soon
after find her mixed up in the proposal of Gover-
nor Johnstone to offer Joseph Reed " ten thou-
sand guineas and the best post in the government"
to exert his influence with Washington, and in
other directions, " to settle the contest," the only
result of which was the memorable reply of Reed
reported by Mrs. Ferguson in a narrative of the
transaction, which she afterwards published in her
own defence. "My influence is but small, but
were it as great as Governor Johnstone would in-
sinuate, the king of Great Britain has nothing
within his gift that would tempt me."* '

Mrs. Ferguson's correspondence is spoken of as
exerting a wide influence, and evidencing high
intellectual power. Several of her letters have
been printed in the Port Folio. Her social influ-
ence was also great and beneficial : under her
care her nephew, John Young, when a hoy of
twelve, is said to have been strangely imbued with
a taste for literature by being locked up for twen-
ty-four hours for some offence by his aunt in her
father's library, where he, to relieve his imprison-
ment, took up a book and became so interested in
its contents that he not only read other books un-
der more favorable circumstances, but in due time
made a contribution to literature by translating
D'Argent's Ancient Geography. He died a Lieu-
tenant in the British army. The copy of his
translation in the Philadelphia library contains a
tribute to his memory by Mrs. Ferguson.

Although nearly ruined in consequence of the
war, Mrs. Ferguson steadily refused to receive any
of the pecuniary aid pressed upon her by her
friends; her simple mode of life rendering her in-
dependent. She took much interest in theology;
and to impress the Bible more firmly on her me-
mory, transcribed its entire contents.

During the latter part of her life, she suffered
severe pain from sickness. She died on the twen-
ty-third day of February, 1601, at the house of a
Quaker, Seneca Lukens, near Graeme Park, and
was interred, in accordance with her previously

* Life of Joseph Eeed, by Win. B. Reed. i. 887.

234

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

expressed request, beside her parents in the grave-
yard of Christ Church, Philadelphia.*

The poems of Evans contain a poetical corres-
pondence between Miss Graeme, under the name
of Laura, and himself, growing out of a passage in
Pope, which presents a pleasant specimen of the
lady's early versification, We extract the whole,
as the individual portions mutually illustrate each
other; and the Rev. Nathaniel Evans being but
a few years the lady's junior, is soon to be in due
course presented to the reader.

60ME LINES OUT OF ME. POPE'S ELOI5E TO AEET.AKO.

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot ?
The world forgetting, by the world forgot;
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind ;
Each prayer accepted and each wish resign'd :
Labour and rest, that equal periods keep ;
Obedient slumbers, that can wake and weep ;
Desires compos'd, affections ever even ;
Tears that delight, and sighs that waft to heaven.
Grace shines arouDd her with serenest beams.
And whisp'ring angels prompt her golden dream;.
For her the spouse prepares the bridal ring,
For her white virgins hymeneals sing;
For her th' unfading rose of Eden blooms,
And wings of seraphs shed divine perfumes;
To sounds of heav'nly harps'she dies away,
And melts in visions of eternal day.

A PAEODY ON TnE FOREGOING LINES BY A LADY ASSEMTNG THE
NA.ME OF LAUKA.

How happy is the country Parson's lot ?
Forgetting Bishops, as by them forgot ;
Tranquil of spirit, with an easy mind.
To all his Vestry's votes he sits resign'd :
Of manners gentle, and of temper even,
He jogs his flocks, with easy pace, to heaven.
In Greek and Latin, pious books he keeps;
And, while his clerk sings psalms, he — soundly sleeps.
His garden fronts the sun's sweet orient beams,
And fat church-wardens prompt his golden dreams.
The earliest fruit, in his fair orchard, blooms ;
And cleanly pipes pour out tobacco's fumes.
From rustic bridegroom oft he takes the ring ;
And hears the milk-maid plaintive ballads sing.
Back-gammon cheats whole winter nights away,
And Pilgrim's Progress helps a rainy day.

N. B. The foregoing Parody occasioned the following epis-
tolary contest, and poetical Raillery, between our Author and
Laura.

AN EPISTLE TO LATTEA, ON HEP. PAEODY.

I lately saw. no matter where,
A parody by Laura fair ;
In which beyond dispute, 'tis clear,
She means her country friend to jeer;
For, well she knows, her pleasing lays,
(Whether they banter me or praise,
Whatever merry mood they take)
Are welcome for their author's sake.

Tobacco vile, I never smoak,
(Tho' Laura loves her friend to joke)
Nor leave my flock all in the lurch,
By being lullaby'd in church ;
But, change tho word from clerk to priest,
Perhaps I lull my sheep to rest.

As for the table of "Back-gammon,
'Tis far beyond the reach of Damon :
But, place right gammon on a table,
And then to play a knife — I'm able.

* The Portfolio, quoted in Hazard's Pennsylvania P.egister,
iii. 394.

" How happy is my lot'' yon say,
Because from Bishops far away !
Happy I am, I'll not deny,
But then it is when you are nigh :
Or gently rushes o'er my mind
Th' idea of the nymph refin'd ;
In whom each grace and virtue meet, "
That render woman-kind complete;
The sense, the taste, the lovely mien
OS Stella, pride of Patrick's Bean.

0 Laura ! when I think of this,
And call you friend — 'tis greater bliss,
Than all the "fat church-wardens' schemes."
Which rarely " prompt my golden dreams;"-
Yet, if the happiness, fair maid,
That sooths me in the silent shade,
Should, in your eye, appear too great,
Come, take it all — and share my fate !

lauea's answee.
Latjea to Damon health doth send,
And thus salutes her saucy friend.

Because you would exert your wit,
You take the cap ne'er made to fit ;
And then your sprightly verse display,
To prove me out in every way —
But I'll proceed, nor care one farthing ;
Nor shall you make me sue for pardon,
Nor once recant what I asserted,
Tho' from my pen in haste it flirted.

Truly, because you do inherit
Some portion of the Bean's queer spirit,
You want to prove, in wondrous haste,
That Laura too has Stella's taste;
As if it must directly follow,
Since you are favour'd by Apollo,
That he his choicest gifts must send.
To ev'ry scribbling female friend.
I thank you, sir — you're wond'rous kind !
But think me not so vain or blind,
As to believe the pretty things,
Your muse, with ease, at Laura flings.

'Tis true, the moments I beffuil'd,
And at a country piarson smil'd ;
Unhappy me! who ne'er could dream,
That you should think yourself the theme :
Unless my muse, thro' rank ill-nature,
Had turn'd wh:it follows into satyr —

" A manner frank and debonnair,
A heart that's open and sincere,
Plain sense, stript of pedantic rules,
And formal precepts, hateh'd in schools:
Firm honesty without parade,
Simplicity in truth array'd ;
A sprightly vein of humour too,
Known only by a favour'd few."

Had Madam Muse, in spleen or spight,
Plac'd all those graces in a light,
To make us laugh, more than admire —
Then Damon might have taken fire,
And said — 'tis past dispnte and clear,
Imeant my country friend to jeer.

Yet, e'er I close — allow me time,
But just to add another rhyme.
Since I esteem your bliss so great,
In penance you will ehuse a mate,
And tell me — " I may share your fate !'
The scheme is good, I must confess,
If you have blis*?, to make it less !
Yet take a hint, before resolv'd,
And in the dragging chain involv'd.
While youthful joys around you shine,

JAMES ALLEN.

235

Haste not to bend at Hymen's shrine ;
Let friendship, gen'rous friendship, be
The bond to fetter you and me,
Vestal, Platonic — what you will,
So virtue reigns with freedom still.
But if, in matrimonial noose,
You must be bound — :and have a spouse ;
The faithful rib that lieav'n shall send,
I'll fondly greet, and call her friend.

TO LAtJRA ; IN KEPLT TO TnE ABOVE.

Laura, for once excuse, I pray,
The pertness of a rural lay:
And I will ne'er again offend,
Or need the name of saucy friend ;

Stella, (for now I see it clearly,
Who loves a little mischief dearly)
Resolv'd to carry a gay farce on,
Told me I was the country parson,
Described in your melodious strain :
To which I uow return again.

I, like my namesake without* guile,
Thought in my turn that I might smile,
So seis'd my pen, in a brisk sally,
Determiu'd to pay off the tally ;
And, in a fit of warm regard,
Dropt a few words — quite off my guard ;
For which I Laura's mercy crave,
And shall remain her humble slave —
She's pleas'd to say, that " I inherit,
Some portion of the Dean's queer spirit."
If aught in me was ever seen.
Resembling Patrick's boasted Dean:
It was his faults, I fear — rank pride,
Which, for my life, I cannot hide,
And one less vain than Swift — or me,
Miglit e'en both proud and saucy be,
When such fine things of him are said
By Laura, the harmonious maid;
Yet still her compliments, I fear,
Are only sent her friend to jeer,
Or sugar o'er a little smart.
And close the bleedings of a heart —
Thus, without cause, when children cry,
And put their finger in their eye,
Kind mamma gives them aught that's handy,
Cakes, marmalade, or sugar-candy.

Fair Laura hints — the hint I take,
And honour for its mistress' sake —
Yet when great Cupid is inclin'd,
To fix his empire o'er my mind,
A silken cord, no " dragging chain,"
Shall lead me to his sacred fane ;
For none, I trust, shall e'er discover,
In me aught like the whimp'ring lover:
The fault'ring voice, the sigh of care,
The languid look, the dying air.
When abject thus behaves the muse,
May I kind Laura's friendship lose,
That friendship which I dearer hold,
Than silver heaps or shining gold.

And now, farewell ! — may ev'ry hour
Fresh happiness on Laura pour —
Whether in sacred wedlock joiu'd,
Or to the Vestal state inclin'd ;
May constant joys before her rise,
Till, for low earth, she gains the skies !

* Nathaniel.

JAMES ALLEN.

James Allen, the son of a wealthy merchant of
Boston, was born in that city, July 24th, 1739.
He entered Harvard College, but owing to his in-
dolent habits and a supposed want of orthodoxy,
left the institution at the end of the third year of
his course. He resided, after this, in Boston,
occasionally amusing himself by writing essays or
verses, but without any serious devotion to literary
or professional pursuits. He died, a bachelor, in
1808.

The publication of his chief production, Lines
on the Massacre, is due more to accident than
design. It was written at the request of Dr. War-
Ten, to accompany the oration on the same sub-
ject, which the doctor had been appointed to
deliver. The poem was submitted to the com-
mittee having the matter in hand, who decided
that it should be printed with the oration, but
afterwards, owing to suspicions as to the writer's
political faith, it was suppressed. Allen, with his
usual indolence, gave himself no trouble about
the matter, but his friends, indignant at the treat-
ment the poet had received, procured a copy
from him, and published it, with ■ extracts from
The Retrospect, another poem by the same hand,
which they accompanied by a commentary by
themselves, exhibiting the author's political sound-
ness and poetical merits.*

Allen also wrote a patriotic epic, entitled
Bit nicer Hill, but after making arrangements f;r
its publication, was too listless to proceed further,
and the manuscript is now supposed to be lost.
These, with the exception of a few slight maga-
zine pieces, form the whole of his writings.

FROM THE POEM ON THE MASSACRE.

From realms of bondage, and a tyrant's reign,

Our godlike fathers bore no' slavish chain.

To Pharaoh's face the inspired patriarchs stood,

To seal their virtue, with a martyr's blood ;

But lives so precious, such a sacred seed,

The source of empires, heaven's high will decreed;

He snatch'd the saints from Pharaoh's impious hand,

And bid his chosen seek this distant land:

Thus to these climes the illustrious exiles sped,

'T was freedom prompted, and the Godhead led.

Eternal woods the virgin soil defaced,

A dreary desert, and a howling waste;

The haunt of tribes no pity taught to spare,

And they opposed them with remorseless war.

But' heaven's right arm led forth the faithful train,

The guardian Godhead swept the insidious plain,

Till the scour'd thicket amicable stood,

Nor dastard ambush trench'd the dusky wood :

Our sires then earn'd no more precarious bread,

Nor 'midst alarms their frugal meals were spread.

Fair boding hopes inured their hands to toil,

And patriot virtue nursed the thriving soil,

Nor scarce two ages have their periods run,

Since o'er their culture smiled the genial sun;

And now what states extend their fair domains,

O'er fleecy mountains, and luxuriant plains 1

Where happy millions their own fields possess,

No tyrant awes them, and no lords oppress;

The hand of rule, divine discretion guides,

And white-robed virtue o'er her path presides,

Each policed order venerates the laws,

* The Pnom which the committee of the town of Boston
had voted unanimously to be published with the late oration.
Boston, E. Russell, 1772. Pp. 80.

236

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

And each, ingenuous, speaks in freedom's cause ;
Not Spartan spirit, nor the Roman name,
The patriot's pride, shall rival these in fame;
Here all the sweets that social life can know,
From the full fount of civil sapience flow ;
Here golden Ceres clothes th' autumnal plain,
And art's fair empress holds her new domain ;
Here angel Science spreads her lucid wing,
And hark, how sweet the new-born muses sing;
Here generous Commerce spreads her liberal hand,
And scatters foreign blessings round the land.
Shall meagre mammon, or proud lust of sway,
Reverse these scenes — will heaven permit the day?
Shall in this era all our hopes expire,
And weeping freedom from her fanes retire ?
Here shall the tyrant still our peace pursue,
From the pain'd eyebrow drink the vital dew ?
Not nature's barrier wards our father's foe,
Seas roll in vain, and boundless oceans flow.

ST. GEOEGE TUCKEE.
Judge TrcKEn, of Virginia, was born in the
island of Bermuda, June 29, 1752 O. S., went
to college at William and Mary, in Williamsburg,
and in 1778 married Mrs. Randolph, the mother
of John Randolph of Roanoke. He became

W^^)

Judge of the Court of Appeals in 1803, on the
death of Edmund Pendleton. He published an
essay on the question, How far the Common Law
of England is the Common Law of the United
States ; a treatise on Slavery, in 1796 ; a letter on
the Alien and Sedition Laws, 1799, and an anno-
tated edition of Blackstone. He died in Nelson
county, Virginia, in November, 1827. He was a,
man of literary taste, great amiability, and
thorough patriotism in the revolutionary struggle.
These fugitive stanzas, attributed to his pen, are
much admired : —

Days of my youth, ye have glided away ;
Hairs of my youth, ye are frosted and grey;
Eyes of my youth, your keen sight is no more ;
Cheeks of my youth, ye are furrowed all o'er ;
Strength of my youth, all your vigor is gone ;
Thoughts of my youth, your gay visions are flown.

Days of my youth, I wish not your recall ;
Hairs of my youth, I'm content ye should fall :
Eyes of my youth, you much evil have seen ;
Cheeks of my youth, bathed in tears have you been ;
Thoughts of my youth, ye have led me astray:
Strength of my youth, why lament your decay.

Days of my age, ye will shortly be past;
Pains of my age, yet awhile ye can last ;
Joys of my age, in true wisdom delight:
Eyes of my age, be religion your light;
Thoughts of my age, dread ye not the cold sod ;
Hopes of my age, be ye fixed on your God.

ELIAS BOtTDLNOT.

Elias BoTTDrxoT, of one of the numerous Hugue-
not families which, taking refuge in America from

persecutions in France, made its return in patri-
otic efforts when America was to be defended,
was born in Philadelphia, May 2d, 1740. He
studied law with Richard Stockton, and his first
wife was a sister of that distinguished statesman.
He married, afterwards, a lady of New York, of
the Beekman family, who survived him.

Boudinot became distinguished as a member of
Congress, of which bod}- he was President in 1782,
and was rewarded by Washington with the ap-
pointment of Director of the Mint, as the succes-
sor of Rittenhouse, in 1796. He was the first pre-
sident of the American Bible Society, on its crea-
tion in 1816. He took great interest in the cause
of missions, particularly with reference to the In-
dians, the question of whose descent he endeavored
to solve in his elaborate volume, A Star in the
West; or a hwrible attempt to discover the long
lost ten tribes of Israel, preparatory to their
return to their beloved city, Jerusalem. This he
published at Trenton, in New Jersey, in 1816. It
is a curious work, which displays considerable
diligence in the collection of facts and conjectures,
and is written with an unaffected tone of sincerity,
The writer evidently regarded the work as a
religious duty. From his study of the sacred
writing?, his own observations of the Indian
character, and the writings of Adair (who had
taken this view), Colden, Brainerd, and others
furnishing facts exhibiting similarity of customs,
he established himself in the conclusion that the
American Indians were the descendants of the
lost tribes.

He also published, in 1790, The Aye of Reve-
lation ; or the Age of Reason an Age of Infidelity ;
an oration before the Society of Cincinnati, 1793 ;
and The Second Advent of the Messiah, 1815.
He was generous and public-spirited, giving the
Bible Society on one occasion ten thousand dol-
lars, and founding in his lifetime a costly cabinet
of natural history at Princeton. He left nu-
merous liberal legacies at his death, for charitable
uses.

THEODOEIC BLAND. EICHAED BLAND.

Col. Theodoeic Bland was of an old Virginia
family, and the uncle of John Randolph. He was
born in 1742. He was educated in Great Britain,
at Wakefield, in Yorkshire, at a school to which
Richard Henry Lee had been sent, and at Edin-

burgh, where he received his Doctor's degree. In
1764 or '5, he returned to America, and practised
medicine in Virginia. At the outbreak of the
Revolution he celebrated the Battle of Lexington,
in some verses, and took part in the struggle as a
captain of Virginia cavalry. Col. Bland was
present at the Battle of Brandywine, and enjoyed
the respect and confidence of Washington, who
frequently corresponded with him. He was a
member of Congress from 1779 to 1783, and was
again elected to the new Congress, in attendance
upon which, at New York, he died June 1, 1790.
Col. Bland held a correspondence with the
leading actors of the Revolution, which he pre-,
served with care, but which was exposed to the

NATHANIEL EVANS.

237

disaster of two fires. What escape J those injuries
was nearly lost by ' negligence, a negro man on
one occasion offering eggs for sale in a basket
lined with the manuscripts of Washington, picked
from the damaged remnants of the collection in a
cellar. John Randolph in vain endeavored to
get possession of the papers. The remnants were
at last secured by a Virginia gentleman of anti-
quarian tastes, Mr. Charles Campbell, by whom
thev were published as The Bland Papers, in
1840 and 1843*

Mr. Campbell lias preserved in his memoir por-
tions of the verses, the manuscript of which was
considerably broken. This is the close : —

Shall Brunswick's line, exalted high,
And freely placed on Britain's throne.

See hapless freedom prostrate lie,

And trampled on by Brunswick's son.

Ye nobles great, ye barons bold,

Remember glorious Rutmymede,-
Your ancestors, nor bought nor sold,

Stood ready for their rights to bleed. '

Then spurn the proffered bribe with scorn —
The chartered rights your sires have won

Purely transmit to those unborn —
Let not the sire [enslave] the son.

Your brothers free in distant climes,

With noble ardor on you call.
Prepared to meet tempestuous times,

And prop the fabric ere it fall.

The collection is one of the most interesting
memorials of our Revolutionary History, with its
notices of old Virginia manners, and the public
events of the times. Besides Col. Bland's own
letters, the correspondence includes letters of
Henry St. George Tucker, Arthur Lee, Jefferson,
anil others.

Col. Theodoric Bland is not to be confounded
with his partial contemporary, Richard Bland,

" the Virginia Antiquary," who bore a prominent
part as a political writer in the Revolution. He
published in 1767, An Inquiry into the Eights
of the British Colonies, after the House of Bur-
gesses had declared the independence of the
people of Virginia of the Parliament of Great
Britain in matters of taxation.! Wirt, in a note
to the Life of Patrick Henry, commemorates him
as " one of the most enlightened men in the
colony ; a man of finished education, and of the
most unbending habits of application. His per-
fect mastery of every fact connected with the
settlement and progress of the colony, had given
him the name of the Virginia Antiquary. He

* The Bland Papers, being a selection from the MSS. of Col.
Theodoric Bland, Jr., of Prince George County, Va., to which
are prefixed an Introduction and a'Memoir' of Col. Bland.
Edited by Charles Campbell. Petersburg: Edmund and Julian
C. Euffin. 18*1-3.

t Jefferson's Notes on Va., Qy. xxiii., where another revolu-
tionary pamphlet, The Monitor's Letters, by Arthur Lee, 1769
is mentioned.

was a politician of the first class, a profound
logician," and was also considered as the first
writer in the colony." He died in 1778.

NATHANIEL EVANS.

Natitaotel Evans was born in Philadelphia,
June S, 1742. He was educated at the Academy
of that city, and then apprenticed to a merchant.
At the expiration of his indentures he entered
the college, which had in the meantime been
established. At the Commencement in 1765 he
received the degree of Master of Arts, although
he had not taken that of Bachelor, in consequence
of the interruption in his studies. He immedi-
ately after left for England, for the purpose of
being ordained, and returned in December of the
same year, having passed a highly successful ex-
amination as one of the missionaries of the So-
ciety for Propagating the Gospel in Foreign Parts,
and was stationed in Gloucester county, New
Jersey, where he remained, occupied with the
duties of his profession, until his death, October
29, 1767.

One of his fellow-passengers on his return voy-
age from England was Miss Elizabeth Graeme,
afterwards Mrs. Ferguson. The acquaintance
formed on shipboard ripened into a friendship
which was only interrupted by his death. Seve-
ral of his poems are addressed to her as Laura ;

the title of his Ode written at G -me Parle,

shows that he visited at her family country-seat ;
and the Rev. Dr. Smith acknowledges her aid in
the preparation of the collection of her friend's
poems,* which he published, with a brief memoir,
in 1772. This volume contains, in addition to
the pieces already mentioned, and a brief poeti-
cal correspondence between Laura and himself, a
few fugitive verses on contemporary topics, in-
cluding an Ode to the Memory of General Wolfe,
and a similar composition on the Peace, with an
Imitation of Borace addressed to Thomas God-
frey, and an Elegy to the memory of the same
friend, with paraphrases of a few of the Psalms,
and two or three pastorals. One of his poems is
addressed to Benjamin Franklin, Esq., LL.D.,
occasioned by hearing him play on the harmonica.

His verses are smoothly written in the taste of
the period, but do not possess high literary merit.
The lines which we select are a version of a Latin
poem, also by the author, addressed to a friend.

AD GULEELMUM LAHDEKr/M, r.P.

Caseus ptnguis, pyra, mala, nectar
Te manent mecum, Gulielme, sextam
Occidens quum Sol properabit horam
Axe fugaci.

Diligit pullos nitidumque nidum
Uxor, at tecum gradiatur audax:
Filio quisquam nee erit venusto

Gratior umbra.
Risus et musre comitentur almoo,
Iunocens et te jocus et leporcs :
Linque sed curas, et amara vitre

Linque severffi.

* Poems on Several Occasions, with some other Composi-
tions. By Nathaniel Evans, A.M., late Missionary (appointed
by the Society for Promoting the Gospel) for Gloucester
county, in New Jersey, and Chaplain to the Lord Viscount
Kilmorey. of the Kingdom of Ireland. Philadelphia, 1772.

238

CYCLOPiEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Hano mornm nigis sapiens futuris
Poiiito : quamvis viridem senectani
Cautus arceto, reraorare vitas

Gaudia blandie.

Vive mine : setas fugit impotentis
Fluniinis ritu, voluerisve veuti:
Vis stitit nulla, et revocavit horns

Nulla volantes.

Umbra seu pulvis fumus, aut inanis
Fumus, et uostrum remauebit olim
Kil nisi virtus, nionumenta sacra

Ingeniique.

TO WILLIAM LATJDEE, P.P.

Pears, apples, cheese, dear Will, and wine,
If thou wilt grace mine house, are thine

(For these are in my pow'r).
When the last ray of yon bright sun,
Shall round its whirling axle run,

Ami hasten the sixth hour.

Thy wife delights in her neat home
And babes, but let her boldly come,

Provided she's at leisure.
Thy beauteous boy shall also find,
Although unask'd, a welcome kind,

And be receiv'd with pleasure.

And with thee haste the virgin Muse,
And jest that laughter shall diffuse,

And mirth that cheers the soul:
Banish afar corroding care,
Severity with gloomy air,

That might our joys control.

More wisely thou procrastinate
These evils to a wrinkled state,

When life's no more inviting :
E'er age comes on, while yet thy blood
Flows in a sprightly vig'rous flood,

Be cheerful and delighting.

Live! live, my Will, for now's the day ;
Time, like a current, glides away,

Or th' evanescent wind ;
TJnstaid by stout Herculean force,
Nought can protract its rapid course,

And fleeting moments bind.

Shadows we are, or empty dust,
And vapor-like dissolve we must,

Nor are we more secure ;
Nought can escape the dreary pit
But virtue and immortal wit,

Which endless shall endure.

WILLIAM HEXEY DRAYTON.

This eminent political leader was burn in South
.Carolina in 1742. He was educated in England,
at Westminster School and at the University of
Oxford. -He was appointed in 1771 Privy Coun-
cillor for the Province, and in 1774 Assistant
Judge ; distinguishing himself by his maintenance
of the rights of the colonists. On the eve of the
meeting of the Continental Congress he published
a pamphlet under the signature of " Freeman,"
in which he marked out the line to be pursued,
and1 submitted a "bill of American rights." In
consequence of this publication he lost his place
in the colonial judiciary. In 1775 he became
president of the Provincial Congress, and was soon
appointed by that body Chief Justice of the Co-
lony, when he delivered his celebrated political
charge to the Grand Jury of Charleston, April

23, 177?, on the Necessity of Independence. It is
one of the masterly state papers of the Pievolu-
tion* Its enumeration of royal grievances gave
something more than a hint to Jefferson for his
draft of the Declaration of Independence. The
address was an assertion of the rights of the
people of South Carolina in forming the admi-
nistration under which he acted. Its language
was direct, and its line of argument legal and con-
vincing. " I proceed to lay before you," said he,
" the principal causes leading to the late revolu-
tion of our government, the law upon the point,
and the benefits resulting from that happy and
necessary establishment. The importance of the
transaction deserves such a statement, the occa-
sion demands, and our future welfare requires it.
I will expound to you the constitution of your
country." He thus directly states the precedent
of the revolutionary course which had been pur-
sued : —

The house of Brunswick was vet scarcely settled
in the British throne, to which it had been called by
a free people, when in the year 1719, our ancestors
in this country, finding that the government of the
lords proprietors operated to their ruin, exercised
the rights transmitted to them by their forefathers
of England ; and casting off the proprietary author-
ity, culled upon the house of Brunswick to rule over
them — a house elevated to ro}-al dominion, for no
other purpose than to preserve to a people their
unalienable rights. The King accepted the invita-
tion ; and thereby indisputably admitted the legality
of that revolution. And, in so doing, by his own
act, he vested in them our forefathers, and in us their
posterity, a clear right to effect another revolution,
if ever the government of the house of Brunswick
should operate to the ruin of the people. " So the
excellent Roman Emperor Trajan delivered a sword
to Saburanus, his captain of the Pretorian guard,
with this admired sentence, " Receive this sword,
and use it to defend me if I govern well, but against
me if I behave ill."

He then proceeds to draw out the legal argu-
ment of the Revolution of 1C88, and closes with a
review of the conditions of accommodation with
England, which he summed up in this vigorous
phrase : —

In short, I think it my duty to declare in the
awful seat of justice, and before Almighty God, that,
in my opinion, the Americans can have no safety but
by the Divine favor, their own virtue, and their
being so prudent as not to leave it in the 'power of
their British rulers to injure them. Indeed the ruin-
ous and deadly injuries received on our side, and
the jealousies entertained, and which, in the nature
of things, must daily increase against us on the
other; demonstrate to a mind, in the least given to
reflection upon the rise and fall of empires, that true1
reconcilement never can exist between Great Britain
and America, the latter being in subjection to the
former. The Almighty created America to be inde-
pendent of Britain. Let us beware of the impiety
of being bark ward to act as instruments in the Al-
mighty hand, now extended to accomplish his pur-
pose ; and by the completion of which alone, Ame-
rica, in the nature of human affairs, can be secure
against the craft and insidious designs of her ene-
mies who think her prosperity and power already

* It is mentioned by Paine in the third number of the Crisis,
as " of the first rank iu America."

THOMAS JEFFERSON'.

239

by far too great. In a word our piety and political
safety are so blended, that, to refuse our labors in
this divine work is to refuse to be a great, a free, a
pious, and a happy people.

And now, having left the important alternative,
political happiness or wretchedness, under God, in a
great degree in your own hands; 1 pray the Su-
preme Arbiter of the affairs of men, so to direct your
judgment, as that you mny act agreeably to what
seems to be his will, revealed in his miraculous
works in behalf of America, bleeding at the altar of
liberty.

Drayton also published a pamphlet in opposi-
tion to Lord Howe's plan of reconciliation with
the mother country. In 1777 he was made Pre-
sident of South Carolina, and the next year took
his seat in the Continental Congress at Philadel-
phia ; and while connected with this body, died
suddenly in that city at the early age of thirty-
six* In addition to his political pamphlets he
prepared a large body of materials for a history
of the American Revolution, which were put into
shape by his son John Drayton and published in
two volumes in 1821-t John Drayton had previ-
ously published, in 1802, an Historical View of
South Carolina. He died in Charleston in 1822
at the age of sixty, holding the office of District
Judge of the United States.

THOMAS JEFFERSON,

The author of the Declaration of Independence,
was bora on his father's estate at Shadwell,
Albemarle county, Virginia, in the neighborhood
of Mouticello, April 2, 1743. On the father's
side his ancestry was Welsh, "from near the
mountain of Snowdon," he notices in his Auto-
biography, and adils, " the highest in Great Bri-
tain." His grandfather, who was settled in Vir-
ginia, left three sons, of whom the youngest,
Peter, married Jane Randolph of Goochland in
the state, and of Scottish descent. Of eight chil-
dren by this marriage Thomas was the first born.
The father was a man of "a strong mind and
sound judgment, and eager after information," as
his son afterwards described him, whose neglected
education in youth did not prevent his accom-
plishing himself sufficiently to be employed on a
boundary survey between Virginia and North
Carolina, and making the first actual map of the
state on record. He died when his son was in
his fifteenth year, having placed him on the track
of a liberal education — under the instruction of
Mr. Douglass, a clergyman from Scotland, who
taught him French with the elements of Greek
and Latin. On the death of his father, he was
educated by the Reverend Mr. Maury, "a correct
classical scholar," for two years, when in 1760 he
entered William and Mary College, where he also
remained two years. At the college his intellec-
tual habits were greatly formed by the lectures
and personal friendship of Dr. William Small, the
Professor of Philosophy, from Scotland, a man of
an active and liberal mind, who had a happy art
of communicating his information on science,
ethics, and the belles-lettres. uThis acquaintance-
ship," says Jefferson, looking back to these early
years, when he commenced his Autobiography at

* Eamsav's Ilist. Eev. S. C. i. 94. Hist. S. C. ii. 4iL
t Memoirs of tbc American Revolution.

the age of seventy-seven, "was my great good
fortune, and probably fixed the destinies of my life."
The Professor introduced him to George Wythe,
the able lawyer and patriot, with whom he studied
law. The Autobiography recalls the partie car-
rce which these three friends formed, in company
with Governor Fauquier at his table, where con-
versation never lacked intelligence. Small re-
turned to Scotland in 1762.

Jefferson has left the warmest acknowledg-
ments in his Correspondence and Autobiography,
of his obligations to Wythe, who led him into
business at the bar, and lived for forty years his
friend.*

At the age of twenty-six, he entered public life
as member of the legislature from his native
county. In 1772 he married a widow Jady of the
age of twenty-three, the daughter of John Wayles,
a lawyer of position and attractive personal quali-
ties, a share of whose property on his death in
1773, doubled the fortunes of the pair. Jefferson
had inherited from his father the land on which

* In bis notes for a biography of Wythe, prepared in 1S20,
Jefferson thus draws his character. uj^o man ever left
behind him a character more venerated than George
Wytiie. His virtue was of the purest tint; bis integrity in-
flexible and his justice exact; of warm patriotism, and devot-
ed as lie was to liberty, and the natural and equal rights of
man, he might truly be called the Cato of his country, without
the avarice of the Roman; for a more disinterested person
never lived. Temperance and regularity in all his habits gave
him general good health, and his unaffected modesty and
suavity of mauners endeared him to every one. He was of
easy elocution, his language chaste, methodical in the arrange-
ment of his matter, learned and logical in the use of it. and of
great urbanity in debate; not quick of apprehension, but with
a little time, profound in peuetration and sound conclusion.
In his philosophy lie was firm, and neither troubling, nor per-
haps trusting, any one with his religious creed, he left the
world to the conclusion, that that religion must be good which
could produce a life of exemplary virtue. His stature was of
the middle size, well formed and proportioned, and the fea-
tures of hi* face vrere manly, comely, and engaging. Such was
George Wythe, the lienor of bis own, and the model of future
times.''

240

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

lie was born, and the adjacent- grounds of Mon-
tioello.

His early opposition to the British colonial
policy is well known. The details belong to
political rather than literary history. Uis views
on the position of the country were expressed in
a draft of instructions which he prepared for
delegates to a general Congress, to be sent from
the convention at Williamsburg, in 1774. The
paper was read by the members, and not brought
up to be adopted, but it was published in a pam-
phlet form with the title A Summary View of the
Eigh ts of British America. Edmund Burke, when
it reached London, interpolated some passages
in it, in which form it passed through several
editions* In 1775, Jefferson succeeded Peyton
Randolph in his seat in Congress at Philadelphia.
He was thirty-two years of age, and the youngest
man but one in that body. He was immediately
engaged in its affairs, his legal and literary abili-
ties t being called for to assist the committee to
prepare a declaration of the causes of taking up
arms. The draft which Jefferson prepared was
too ardent for his colleague, Dickinson, and the
latter substituted a statement in milder form.
When the consideration of the question of Inde-
pendence arose, Jefferson was appointed chairman
of the Committee of Adams, Franklin, Sherman,
and Livingston, to prepare a Declaration. " The
committee," he says, in his Autobiography, '•' de-
sired me to do it : it was accordingly done." A
few verbal corrections appear in the fac-siinile of
the original draft in the hand-writing of Frank-
lin and Adams. The paper was reported on
Friday, 2Sth June, 1776, laid on the table, and on
Monday referred to a committee of the whole,
discussed for the three following days, abridged
of several superfluous phrases and some passages
bearing severely upon Great Britain and affecting
the question of slavery. On the evening of the
memorable Fourth it was adopted in its present
form.

A discussion has arisen with respect to the
authorship of several striking phrases of this
document, alleged to have been anticipated by
the Mecklenburg North Carolina Resolutions of
May 20, 1775. In the last mentioned paper the
following language occurs: "That we, the citizens
of Mecklenburg county, do hereby disaol/oethe po-
litical hands which have connected us with the
mother c< nintry, and hereby absolve ourselves from
all allegiance to the British crown, and abjure all
political connexion, contract, or association with
that nation. * * * That we do hereby declare
ourselves a free and independent people; are, and
of right ought to be, a sovereign and self-govern-
ing association, under the control of no person,
other than that of our God, and the general
government of Congress ; to the maintenance of
which independence, we solemnly pledge to each
other, our mutual co-operation, our Ures, our for-
tunes, and our most sacred honor." The lines
which we have marked in italics suggest plagia-
rism from one quarter or the other. The com-

* Autobiography, Works, i. 7. Ed. If30.

t "Mr. Jefferson came into' Congress in June, 1775, nod
brought with him a reputation for literature, science, and a
happy talent of composition. Writings of his were handed
about, remarkable for the peculiar felicity of expression.1' —
John Adams's Letter to Timothy Pickering, Aug. 6, 1&22.

parison between the two was brought up in a
letter from John Adams to Mr. Jefferson, dated
June, 1819. Jefferson in reply, at the age of
seventy-six, when he may have forgotten the con-
temporary report of the affair, doubted the authen-
ticity of the paper. The fact of the declaration
at Mecklenburg and the words of the Resolutions
were maintained afterwards by a report of the
legislature of North Carolina, which investigated
the evidence. Professor Tucker, in his Life of
Jefferson, published in 1837, admits the agree-
ment and the plagiarism lying between the two,
and does not question the fact that a declaration
was made at Mecklenburg, but argues that the
Jeffersonian phrases were - interpolated subse-
quently from the Declaration of Congress*

But whatever coincidences of expression may
be noticed by the curious students of such mat-
ters, in the language of Webster on the solemn
occasion of the funeral eulogy of Adams and
Jefferson, "as a composition, the Declaration is
Mr. Jefferson's. It is the production of his mind,
and the high honor of it belongs to him, clearly
and absolutely. To say that he performed his
work well would be doing him injustice. To say
that he did excellently well, admirably well,
would be inadequate and halting praise. Let us
rather say, that lie so discharged the duty assigned
him, that all Americans may well rejoice that the
work of drawing the title-deed of their liberties
devolved upon him.''t

Leaving Congress in September after the De-
claration, Jefferson's faculties were employed in
legal reforms in the legislative of his state, of
which he became Governor in 1779, retain-
ing the office till 1781, when he resigned it,
thinking a man of military education was required
for the conduct of affairs. He was offered several
foreign appointments, to negotiate treaties in
Europe, and finally embarked from Boston in

1784, to join Franklin and Adams in Paris for
this purpose. When Adams was appointed mi-
nister to London, and Franklin returned home in

1785, Jefferson was left minister in Paris. He
remained in that situation, travelling in France
and visiting Holland and Piedmont till 1789,
when he returned to America. On his arrival in
Virginia he was met by the appointment from
Washington of Secretary of State, which office he
entered upon in New York, retaining it tdl the
clo=e of 1793. He then passed three years in
retirement, 'from which the Vice-Presidency
withdrew him, succeeded at the end of the term
in 1801 by his election to the Presidency. After
eight years, he retired to Monticello for the re-
mainder of his career, and lived the life of a plan-
ter and student, nis interest in education led
him to be appointed chairman of the commission
which formed the University at Charlottesville,
in his vicinity, of which he became the rector.

In 1815, his pecuniary circumstances having
become straitened, he sold his library of about
seven thousand volumes to Congress, for which
he received twenty-three thousand dollars. It
was arranged by him on the Baconian plan of

* Art. on Tucker's Life of Jefferson, New York Review, No.
I. March, 1837. The Mecklenburg Declaration of Indepen-
dence, a lecture by the Ucv. Francis L. Ilawks before the
N. Y. Historical Society, Dec. 10, 1S52.

+ Works, i. 126.

THOMAS JEFFERSON.

241

a division under Memory, Reason or Judgment,
and the Imagination. The departments showed,
a liberal range of study on science and literature,
including an allowance of the Fine Arts. In the
fire in the Library Room in 1852, most of these
books were destroyed.

Jefferson's last days were passed in the rural
enjoyments of Monticello, and with unimpaired
mental pleasures. He died on the fourth of July,
1826, on the completion of fifty years from the
date of his signing the Declaration of Inde-
pendence.

Jefferson's popular literary reputation 'will
mainly rest on the stirring sentences of this De-
claration. There is abundant material in the
nine octavo volumes of his writings,* but little of
it is coined for current circulation. The auto-
biography, written in extreme age, has nothing
of the repose and relish of Franklin's ; the reports,
messages, and other ■ political writings may be
sometimes referred to, but will seldom be perused;
while the Correspondence, when perfectly ar-
ranged and annotated, will remain the best and
most agreeable picture of the man.

The Notes on the State of Virginia were writ-
ten at the suggestion of M. Marbois of the French
legation in Philadelphia, who in 1781, in accord-
ance with the wishes of his government for infor-
mation, proposed to Jefferson a set of queries.
As the latter had always been in the habit of
jotting down memoranda of statistical and useful
matters relating to the country, lie took this
opportunity of arranging them in order. Copies
were in request among the author's friends, and
for their satisfaction the work was privately
printed, an edition of two hundred copies in
Paris, in 178 1, and distributed abroad and in
America. One of the European copies, on the
death of its owner, was obtained by a bookseller,
who had it bunglingly translated by the Abbe
Morellet into French, the author hearing of it in
time to make some corrections and changes, when
it appeared — Observations sur la Virginie, par
M. ,/***, tradiutes de V Anglois, 8vo. Paris,
1786. The next year, Jefferson gave the original
to an English publisher.!

The correspondence of Jefferson, as published
by his grandson,} contains the finest specimens of
his literary powers. Many of the letters are
written with a care that smells of the lamp.
There is scarcely one of them which does not con-
tain something suggestive or useful. During his
residence in France he was very industrious as a
correspondent, and his letters on the political
affairs of the country, during the early period of
the Revolution, addressed to Washington, Jay,
and others, are valuable for their observation
anil sagacity. Madison is his chosen correspon-
dent on American political ideas. He addresses
John Adams on *tate affairs in France, and when
they both become veterans, in retirement from
public life, Braintree and Monticello exchange
notes on topics of ethics and religion. He inte-

* This is the new edition edited by IT. A. Washington, pre-
pared from the IIS. bequeathed to Thomas Jefferson Ran-
dolph, his grandson, and purchased by Congress in 1S4S.

i Autobiographical Memoir, p. 50.

t Memoir, Correspondence, and Miscellanies, from the pa-
pers of Thomas* Jefferson. Edited by Thomas Jefferson Ran-
dolph. 4 vols. 8vo.
VOL. I. — 16

rests himself while in Europe, in all the liberal
pursuits of his friends. He writes to Ritten-
house on points raised in the Notes on, Virginia;
to Francis Hopkinson concerning his musical im-
provements and inventions, and asks (in 1786)
"what is become of the lunarium for the king?"
He is solicitous for Houdon the sculptor, Tom
Paine's iron bridge and its mathematical princi-
ples, the ethnological promises of Ledyards tra-
vels, his friend Button's museum, that it be fur-
nished with American specimens, and cheerfully
fills the duties of a Paris commissioner in supply-
ing the libraries of' his friends at home with
foreign books. His letters to his nephew Peter
Carr show the warmth of his family attachments,
and his zealous study of the nature of a practical
education for mind and body ; and the politician
and philosopher can gaily unbend from graver
studies to compliment his lady correspondents
with his refinements of expression. To Mrs.
Cosway he addresses the fine dialogue between
Head and Heart on American nature, and dis-
courses very prettily to Mrs. Bingham on the
fopperies of Parisian life.

In 1787, on the 28th February, suffering from
a dislocated wrist, Jefferson set out, by advice of
his physician, on a tour to the mineral waters of
Aix. By the time he returned to Paris, in June,
he had passed through the heart of the country,
and traversed the boundaries of France on the south
and west, advancing in Italy along the Mediter-
ranean as far as Genoa. He was greatly impressed
with the architecture of that noble relic of anti-
quity, the Maisan Qaarr.'e, at Nismes. He writes to
Madame la Comtesse de Tesse, on the beauties of
a statue ; to La Fayette, calling upon him to make '
the same journey, — " and to do it most effectually,
you must be absolutely incognito, you must ferret
the people out of their hovels as I have done,
look into their kettles, eat their bread, loll on
their beds, under pretence of resting yourself, but
in fact to find if they are soft. You will feel a
sublime pleasure in the course of this investiga-
tion, and a sublimer one hereafter, when you
shall be able to apply your knowledge to the
softening of their beds, or the throwing a morsel
of meat into their kettle of vegetables." His .
memoranda apply to the wines of Burgundy, the
agriculture and labor of the Rhone districts, the
mode of living of the peasantry, the agricultural
improvements ; — the itinerary of an useful, intelli-
gent, and active-minded tourist. Approaching the
close of life, in 1816, he writes to John Adams, —
" You ask, if I would agree to live my seventy, or
rather seventy-three years over again ? To which I
say, yea. I think with you, that it is a good world
on the whole ; that it has been framed on a prin-
ciple of benevolence, and more pleasure than pain
dealt out to us. * * My temperament is sanguine.
I steer my bark with Hope in the head, leaving
Fear astern. My hopes, indeed, sometimes fail ;
but not o'ftener than the forebodings of the
gloomy."

Tins was the cheerful close of a life of activity.
His intellectual habits were those which wear
well ; keen, subtle, sagacious in thinking and
acting as a politician, he was neat in composition,
skilful in statement, curious and philosophical in
speculation. Quick, active, versatile, he exer-
cised the ingenuity of a man of talent, rather than

242

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

the unconscious instinct of a man of genius. His
mind was clear on objects which admitted of
being presented in a transparent light and pro-
found on material issues. Politics he made an
art, and was sensitive to every fibre of the. web
of political intrigue. He was not an orator or a
great debater, but a good talker, an artful writer,
master of that cunning instrument the pen — and
an adept in personal management. In politics
and philosophy what force he employed was
rectilinear and progressive. His writings hick
weight for the man of deep thought or feeling.
They are agreeable studies for the philosophical
amateur, and profitable ones for the politician
wiio follows out in action his far-sighted specu-
lations,

DIALOGUE BETWEEN I1EAD AND HEART.

In a Letter to Mrs. Cosway, Paris, Oct. 12, 17S6.

My Sear Madam, — Having performed the last sad
office of banding you into your carriage, at the^a-
villon de St. Denis, and seen the wheels get actually
into motion, I turned on my heel and walked, more
dead than alive, to the opposite door, where my
own was awaiting me. Mr. Danquerville was miss-
ing. He was sought for, found, and dragged down
stairs. We were crammed into the carriage, like
recruits for the Bastille, and not having soul enough
to give orders to the coachman, he presumed Paris
our destination, and drove off. After a considerable
interval, silence was broke, with a " Je auis vraiment
afilige du depart de ces bons gens." This was a sig-
nal for mutual confession of distress. We began im-
mediately to talk of Mr. and Mrs. Coswaj^, of their
goodness, their talents, their amiability ; and though
we spoke of nothing else, we seemed hardty to have
entered into the matter, when the coachman an-
nounced the rue St. Denis, and that we were oppo-
site Mr. Danquerville's. He insisted on descending
there, and traversing a short passage to his lodgings.
I was carried home. Seated by my fireside, solitary
and sad, the following dialogue took place between
my Head and my Heart.

Head. Well, friend, you seem, to be in a pretty
trim.

Heart. I am indeed the most wretched of all
earthly beings. Overwhelmed with grief, every
fibre of my frame distended beyond its natural
powers to bear, I would willingly meet whatever
catastrophe should leave me no more to feel, or to
fear.

Head. These are the eternal consequences of your
warmth and precipitation. This is one of the scrapes
into which you are ever leading us. You confess
your follies, indeed; but still you hug and cherish
them; and no reformation can be hoped where there
is no repentance.

Heart. Oh, my friend! this is r.o moment to up-
braid my foibles. 1 am rent into fragments by the
force of my grief! If you have any balm, pour it
into my wounds; if none, do not harrow them by
new torments. Spare me in this awful moment!
At any other, I will attend with patience to your
admonitions.

Head. On the contrary, I never found that the
moment of triumph, with 3-ou, was the moment of
attention to my admonitions. While suffering un-
der your follies, you may perhaps be made sensible
of them ; but, the paroxysm over, you fancy it can
never return. Harsh, therefore, as the medicine
may be, it is my office to administer it. You will
be pleased to remember, that when our friend Trum-
bull used to be telling us of the merits and talents

of these good people, I never ceased whisperii-g to
you that we had no occasion for new acquaintances ;
that the greater their merit and talents, the more
dangerous their friendship to our tranquillity, be-
cause the regret at parting would be greater.

Heart. Accordingly, Sir, this acquaintance was
not the consequence of my doings. It was one of
your projects which threw us in the way of it. It
was you, remember, and not I, who desired the
meeting at Legrand and Motinos. I never trouble
myself with domes nor arches. The Halle au ules
might have rotted down, before I should have gone
to see it. But you, forsooth, who are eternally get-
ting us to sleep with your diagrams and crotchets,
must go and examine this wonderful piece of archi- ■
tecture ; and when you had seen it, oh ! it was the
most superb thing on earth ! What you had seen
there was worth all you had yet seen in Paris! I
thought so too. But I meant it of the lady and
gentleman to whom we had been presented; and
not of a parcel of sticks and chips put together in
pens. . You then, Sir, and not I, have been the cause
of the present distress.

Head. It would have been happy for you, if my dia-
grams and crotchets had gotten you to sleep on that
■day, as you are pleased to say they eternally do. My
visit to Legrand and Motinos had public utility for
its object. A market is to be built in Richmond.
What a commodious plan is that of Legrand and
Motinos ; especially, if we rait on it the noble dome
of the Halle au blcs. If such a bridge as they
showed us can be thrown across the Schuylkill, at
Philadelphia, the floating bridges taken up, and the
navigation of that river opened, what a copious re-
source will be added, of wood and provisions, to
warm and feed the poor of that city? While I was
occupied with these objects, 3*ou were dilatii g with
your new acquaintances, and contriving how to pre-
vent a separation from them. Every soul of you
had an engagement for the day. Yet all these were
to be sacrificed that you might dine together. Ly-
ing messengers were to be despatched into every
quarter of the city, with apologies for your breach
of engagement. You, particularly, had the effron-
tery to send word to the Duchess Danville, that on
the moment we were setting out to dine with her,
despatches came to hand which required immediate
attention. You wanted me to invent a more ii;ge-"
nious excuse ; but I knew you were getting into a
scrape, and I would have nothing to do with it.
Well; after dinner from St. Cloud, from St. Cloud
to Ruggieri's, from Ruggieri's to Krumfoltz; and if
the day had been as long as a Lapland summer day,
you would still have contrived means among you to
have filled it.

Heart. Oh! my dear friend, how you have revived
me, by recalling to mind the transactions of that
day! How well I remember them all, and that
when I came home at night, and looked back to the
morning, it seemed to have been a month agone.
Go on, then, like a kind comforter, and paint tome the
day we went to St. Germains. How beautiful was
every object! the Port de Hcuilly, the hills along
the Seine, the rainbows of the machine of Marly, the ■
terras of St. Germains, the chateaux, the gardens,
the statues of Marly, the pavilion of Lucienne. Re-
collect, too, Madrid, Bagatelle, the King's garden,
the Desert. How grand the idea excited by the re-
mains of such a column. The spiral staircase, too,
was beautiful. Every moment was filled with some-
thing agreeable. The wheels of time moved on with
a rapidity of which those of our carriage gave but a
faint idea And yet, in the evening, when one took
a retrospect of the day, what a mass of happiness
had we travelled over ! Retrace all those scenes to

THOMAS JEFFERSON.

243

rne, my good companion, and I will forgive the un-
kindness with which you were chiding me. The
day we went to St. Germains was a little too warm,
I tliink ;. was it not?

Head. Tliou art the most incorrigible of all the
beings that ever sinned! I reminded you of the
follies of the first day, intending to deduce from
thence some useful lessons for you ; but instead of
listening to them, you kindle at the recollection, you
retrace the whole series with a fondness, which
shows you want nothing but the opportunity to act
it over again. I often told you, during its course,
that you were imprudently engaging your affec-
tions, under circumstances that must cost you a
great deal of pain; that the persons, indeed, were
of the greatest merit, possessing good sense, good
humor, honest hearts, honest manners, and eminence
in a lovely art; that the lady had, moreover, qualities
and accomplishments belonging to her sex, which
might form a chapter apart for her ; such as music,
modesty, beauty, and that softness of disposition
which is the ornament of her sex, and charm of ours :
but that all these considerations would increase the
pang of separation ; that their stay here was to be
short; that you rack our whole system when you
are parted from those you love, complaining that
such a separation is worse than death, inasmuch as
this ends our sufferings, whereas that only begins
them; and that the separation would, in this in-
stance, be the more severe, as you would probably
never see them again.

Heart. But they told me thejf would come back
again the next year.

Head. But, in the mean time, see what you suffer:
and their return, too, depends on so many circum-
stances, that if you had a grain of prudence, you
would not count upon it. Upon the whole, it is im-
probable, and therefore you should abandon the idea
of ever seeing them again.

Heart. May Heaven abandon me, if I do!

Head. Very well. Suppose, then, tliey come back.
They are to stay two months, and when these are
expired what is to follow? Perhaps you flatter
yourself they may come to America ?

Heart. God only knows what is to happen. I see
nothing impossible in that supposition ; and I see
things wonderfully contrived sometimes to make us
happy. Where could they find such objects as in
America for the exercise of their enchanting art;
especially the lady who paints landscapes so inimi-
tably? She wants only subjects worthy of immor-
tality to render her pencil immortal. The Falling
Spring, the Cascade of Niagara, the Passage of the
Potomac through the Blue Mountains, the Natural
Bridge ; it is worth a voyage across the Atlantic to
Bee these objects; much more to paint and make
them, and thereby ourselves, known to all ages.
And our own dear Monticello ; where has nature I
spread so rich a mantle under the eye? — mountains, i
forests, rocks, rivers. With what majesty do we i
there ride above the storms! How sublime to look j
down into the workhouse of nature, to see her clouds, !
hail, snow, rain, thunder, all fabricate'! at our feet !
and the glorious sun when rising as if out of a dis-
tant water, just gilding the tops of the mountains,
and giving life to all nature! I hope in God, no
circumstance may ever make either seek an asylum
from grief! With what sincere sympathy I would
open every cell of my composition to receive the
effusion of their woes! I would pour my tears into
their wounds ; and if a drop of balm could be found
on the top of the Cordilleras, or at the remotest
sources of the Missouri, I would go thither myself
to seek and to bring it. Deeply practised in the
school of affliction, the human heart knows no joy

which I have not lost, no sorrow of which I had not
drank! Fortune can present no grief of unknown
form to me ! Who, then, can so softly bind up the
wound of another, as he who has felt the same
wound himself? But Heaven forbid they should
ever know a sorrow ! Let us turu over another leaf,
for this has distracted me.

Head. Well. Let us put this possibility to trial,
then, on another point. When you consider the
character which is given of our country by the lying
newspapers of London, and their credulous copyers
in other countries; when you reflect that all Europe
is made to believe we are a lawless banditti, in a
state of absolute anarchy, cutting one another's
throats, and plundering without distinction, how
could you expect that any reasonable creature would
venture among us?

Heart. But you and I know that all this is false :
that there is not a country on earth where there is
greater tranquillity ; where the laws are milder, or
better- obeyed ; where every one is more attentive
to his own business, or meddles less with that of
others ; where strangers are better received, more
hospitably treated, and with a more sacred respect.

Head. True, you and I know this, but your friends
do not know it.

Heart. But they are sensible people, who think
for themselves. They will ask of impartial foreign-
ers, who have been among us, whether they saw or
heard on the Bpot any instance of anarchy. They
will judge, too, that a people occupied, as we are, in
opening rivers, digging navigable canals, making
roads, building public schools, establishing acade-
mies, erecting busts and statues to our great men,
protecting religious freedom, abolishing sanguinary
punishments, reforming and improving our laws in
general; they will judge, I say, for themselves,
whether these are not the occupations of a people
at their ease ; whether this is not better evidence
of our true state than a London newspaper, hired to
lie, and from which no truth can ever be extracted,
but by reversing every thing it says.

Head. I did not begin this lecture, my friend, with
a view to learn from you what America is doing.
Let us return, then, to our point. I wish to make
you sensible how imprudent it is to place your
affections without reserve on objects you must so
soon lose, and whose loss, when it comes, must cost
you such severe pangs. Remember the last night.
You knew your friends were to leave Paris to-day.
This was enough to throw you into agonies. All
night you tossed us from one side of the bed to the
other ; no sleep, no rest. The poor crippled wrist,
too, never left one moment in the same position ;
now up, now down, now here, now there ; was it to
be wondered at if its pains returned ? The surgeon
then was to be called, and to be rated as an igno-
ramus, beeause he could not divine the cause of this
extraordinary change. In fine, my friend, you must
mend your manners. This is not a world to live at
random in, as you do. To avoid those eternal dis-
tresses, to which you are for ever exposing us, you
must learn to look forward before you take a step
which may interest our peace. Every thing in this
world is matter of calculation. Advance, then, with
caution, the balance in your hand. Put into one
scale the pleasures which any object may offer; but
put fairly into the other the pains which are to fol-
low, and see which preponderates. The making an
acquaintance is not a matter of indifference. When
a new one is proposed to you view it all round.
Consider what advantages it presents, and to what
inconveniences it may expose you. Do not bite at
the bait of pleasure till you know there is no hook
beneath it The art of life is the art of avoiding

241

CYCLOP.EDU OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

pain ; and lie is the best pilot who steers clearest of
the rocks and slioals with which it is beset. Plea-
sure is always before us ; but misfortune is at our
side; while running after that, this arrests us. The
most effectual means of being secure against pain is
to retire within ourselves, and to suffice for our own
happiness. Those which depend on ourselves are
the only pleasures a wise man, will count on ;
for nothing is ours which another may deprive us
of. Hence the inestimable value of intellectual
pleasures. Ever in our power, always leading us to
something new, never cloying, we ride serene and
sublime above the concerns of this mortal world,
contemplating truth and nature, matter and motion,
the laws which bind up their existence, and that
Eternal Being who made and bound them up by
those laws. Let this be our employ. Leave the
bustle -and tumult of society to those who have not
talents to occupy themselves without them. Friend-
ship is but another name for an alliance with the
follies and the misfortunes of others. Our own share
of miseries is sufficient ; why enter then as volunteers
into those of another? Is there so little gall poured
into our cup that we must need help to drink that
of our neighbor? A friend dies, or leaves us: we
feel as if a limb was cut off. He is sick: we must
watch over him, and participate of his pains. His
fortune is shipwrecked : ours must be laid under
contribution. He loses a child, a parent, or a part-
ner: we must mourn the loss as if it were our own.
Heart. And what more sublime delight than to
mingle tears with one whom the hand of Heaven
hath smitten ! to watch over the bed of sickness,
and to beguile its tedious and its painful moments!
to share our bread with one to whom misfortune has
left none ! This world abounds indeed with misery :
to lighten its burthen we must divide it with one
another. But let us now try the virtue of your
mathematical balance, and as you have put into one
scale the burthens of friendship, let me put its com-
forts into the other. "When languishing, then, under
disease, how grateful is the solace of our friends!
how are we penetrated with their assiduities and
attentions ! how much are we supported by their
encouragements and kind offices! "When Heaven
has taken from us some object of our love, how
sweet is it to have a bosom whereon to recline our
heads, and into which we may pour the torrent of
our tears! Grief, with such a comfort, is almost a
luxury ! In a life where we are perpetually expos-
ed to want and accident, yours is a wonderful pro-
position, to insulate ourselves, to retire from all aid,
and to wrap ourselves in the mantle of self-suffi-
ciency! For assuredly nobody will care for him, I
who cares for nobody. But friendship is precious,
not only in the shade, but in the sunshine of life ;
and thanks to a benevolent arrangement of things,
the greater part of life is sunshine. I will recur for
proof to the days we have lately passed. On these, •
indeed, the sun shone brightly] How gay did the
face of nature appear! Hills, valleys^ chateaux,
gardens, rivers, every object wore its liveliest hue !
Whence did they borrow it? From the presence of
our charming companion. They were pleasing, be-
cause she seemed pleased. Alone, the .scene would
have been dull and insipid : the participation of it
with her gave it relish. Let the gloomy monk, se-
questered from the world, seek unsocial pleasures in
the bottom of his cell ! Let the sublimated philoso-
pher grasp visionary happiness while pursuing pban-
toms dressed in the garb of truth ! Their supreme
wisdom is supreme folly : and they mistake for hap-
piness the mere absence of pain. Had they ever ,
felt the solid pleasure of one generous spasm'of the
heart, they would exchange for it all the frigid

speculations of their lives, 'which you have been
vaunting in such elevated terms. Believe me, then,
my friend, that that is a miserable arithmetic, winch
could estimate friendship at nothi: g, or at less than
nothing. Respect for you has induced me to enter into
this discussion, and to hear principles uttered, which
I detest and abjure. Respect for myself now obliges
me to recall you into the proper limits of your office.
"When nature .assigned us the same habitation, she
gave us over it a divided empire. To you she al-
lotted the field of science; to me that of morals.
"When the circle is to be squared, or the oibit of a
comet to be traced ; when the arch of greatest
strength, or the solid of least resistance is to be in-
vestigated, take up the problem ; it is yours; nature
has given me no cognizance of it. In like manner,
in denying to you the feelings of sympathy, of be-
nevolence, of gratitude, of justice, of love, of friend-
ship, she has excluded you from their control. To
these she has adapted the mechanism of the heart.
Morals were too essential to the happiness of man
to be risked on the uncertain combinations of the
head. She laid their foundation, therefore, in senti-
ment, not in science. That she gave to all as neces-
sary to all : this to a few only, as sufficing with a
few. I know, indeed, that you pretend authority
to the sovereign control of our conduct, in all rte
parts: and a respect for your grave saws and max-
ims, a desire to do what is right, has sometimes in-
duced me to conform to your counsels. A few facts,
however, which I can readily recall to your memory,
will suffice to prove to you that nature has not or-
ganized you for our moral direction. "When the
poor wearied soldier, whom we overtook at Chicka-
hominy, with his pack on his back, begged us to let
him get up behind our chariot, yon began to calcu-
late that the road was full of soldiers, and that if all
should be taken up, our horses would fail in their
journey. AVe drove on, therefore. But soon be-
coming sensible you had made me do wrong, that
though we cannot relieve all the distressed, we
should relieve as many as we can, I turned about to
take up the soldier; but he had entered a by-path,
and was no more to be found : and from that mo-
ment to this, I could never find him out to ask his
forgiveness. Again, when the poor woman came to
ask a charity in Philadelphia, you whispered, that
she looked like a drunkard, and that half a dollar
was enough to give her for the ale-house. Those
wdio want the dispositions to give, easily find rea-
sons why they ought not to give. When I sought
her out afterwards, and did what I should have
done at first, you know, that she employed the mo-
ney immediately towards placing her child at school.
If our country, when pressed with wrongs at the
point of the bayonet, had been governed by its
heads instead of its hearts, where should we have
been now? Hanging on a gallows as high as Ha-
inan's. You began to calculate, and to compare
wealth and numbers: we threw up a few pulsa-
tions of our blood; we supplied enthusiasm against
wealth and numbers ; we put our existence to the
hazard, when the hazard seemed against us, and we
saved our country: justifying, at the same time, the
ways of Providence, whose precept is to do always
what is right, and leave the issue to him. In short,
my friend, as far as my recollection serves me, I do
not know that I ever did a good thing on your sug-
gestion, or a dirty one without it. I do for ever,
then, disclaim your interference in my province.
Fill paper as you please with triangles and squares:
try how many ways you can hang and combine
them together. I shall never envy nor control your
sublime delights. But leave me to decide when
and where friendships are to be contracted. You

THOMAS JEFFERSON.

215

say I contract them at random. So you said the
woman at Philadelphia was a drunkard. I receive
none into my esteem till I know they are worthy of
it. Wealth, title, office, are no recommendations to
my friendship. On the contrary, great good quali-
ties are requisite to make amends for their having
wealth, title, and office. Yoa confess, that, in the
present case, I could not have made a worthier
choice. Yon o dy object that I was so soon to lose
them. "We are not immortal ourselves, my friends;
how can we expect our enjoyments to be so ? "We
have no rose withont its thorn ; no pleasure without
alloy. It is the law of our existence ; and we must
acquiesce. It is the condition annexed to all our
ple'tsures, not by us who receive, but by him who
gives them. True, this condition is pressing cruelly
on in; at this moment I feel more fit for death
than life. Bit when I look buck on the pleasures
of which it is the consequence, I am conscious they
were worth the price I am paying. Notwithstand-
ing your, endeavors. t:io, to damp my hopes, I com-
fort myself with expectations of their promised re-
turn. Hope is sweeter than despair; and they
were too giol to me in to deceive me. "In the
sum ner," said the gentleman ; hut " In 4he spring,"
6aid the lady; and I should love her for ever, were
it o ily for that! Know, then, my friend, that I have
taken these good people into my bosom ; that I have
lodged the n in the warmest cell I could find ; that
I love them, a id will continue to love, them through
life; that if fortune should dispose them on one side
the globe, and me on the other, my affections shall
pervale its whole mass to reach them. Knowing,
then, my determination, attempt not to disturb it.
If you can at a ly time furnish matter for their
amusement, it will be the office of a gool neighbor
to do it. I will, in like manner, seize any occasion
which may offer, to do the like good turn for you
with Condoroet, Rittenhouse, Madison, La Cretelle,
or a iy other of those worthy sons of science, whom
you so justly prize.

I thought this a favorable proposition whereon to
rest the issue of the dialogue. So I put an end to
it by calling for" my nightcap. Methinks, I hear
you wish to Heaven I had called a little sooner, and
so spared you the ennui of such a sermon. I did
not interrupt them sooner, because I was in a mood
for he iriug sermons. You, too, were the subject ;
and on such a thesis I never think the theme long ;
not even if I am to write it, and that slowly and
awkwardly, as now, with the left hand.

CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON.

To Dr. Walter Jonsz, Moniieello, Jan. 1S14.

I think I knew General Washington intimately
and thoroughly ; and were I called on to delineate
his character, it sho lid be'in terms like these : —

His mind was groat and powerful, without
being of the very first order; his penetration
stro ig, though not so acute as that of a Newton,
Bacon, or Loeke; and as far as he saw, no judg-
ment was ever sounder. It was slow in opera-
tin i, being little aided by invention or imagina-
tio i, but sure in conclusion. Hence the common re-
mirk of his officers, of the advantage he derived
from councils of war, where, hearing all suggestions,
he selected whatever was best; and certainly no
general ever planned his battles more judiciously.
But if deranged during the course of the action, if
any member of his plan was disloented by sudden
circumstances, he was slow in a re-adjustment. The
consequence was, that he often failed in the field,
and rarely against an enemy in station, as at Boston
and York. He was incapable of fear, meeting per-

sonal dangers with the calmest unconcern. Perhaps
the strongest feature in his character was prudence,
never acting until every circumstance, every consi-
deration was maturely weighed; refraining, if he
saw a doubt ; but, when once decided, going through
with his purpose, whatever obstacles opposed. His
integrity was most pure, his justice the most inflex-
ible I have ever known; no motives of interest or
consanguinity, of friendship or hatred, being able to
bias his decision. He was, indeed, in every sense of
the words, a wise, a good, and a great man. His
temper was naturally irritable and high-toned ; but
reflection and resolution had obtained a firm and
habitual ascendancy over it. If ever, however, it
broke its bonds, he was most tremendous in his
wrath. In his expenses he was honorable, but exact;
liberal in contributions to whatever promised utility;
but frowning and unyielding on all visionary pro-
jects and all unworthy calls on his charity. His
heart was not warm in its affections; but he exactly
calculated every man's value, and gave him a solid
esteem proportioned to it. His person, you know,
was fine ; his stature exactly what one would wish ;
his deportment easj', erect, and noble; the best
horseman of his age, and the most graceful figure
that could be seen On horseback. Although in the
circle of his friends, where he might be unreserved
with safety, he took a free share in conversation,
his colloquial talents were not above mediocrity,
possessing neither copiousness of ideas nor fluency
of words. In public, when called on for a sudden
opinion, he was unready, short, and embarrassed.
Yet he wrote readily, rather diffusely, in an easy
and correct style. This he had acquired by conver-
sation with the world, for his education was merely
reading, writing, and common arithmetic, to which
he added surveying, at a later day. His time was
employed in action chiefly, reading little, and that
only in agricultural and English history. His cor-
respondence became necessarily extensive, and, with
journalizing his agricultural proceedings, occupied
most of his leisure hours within daors. On the
whole, his character was in its mass, perfect; in no-
thing bad, in few points indifferent; and it maj'
truly be said, that never did nature and fortune
combine more perfectly to make a man great, and to
place him in the same constellation with whatever
worthies have merited from man an everlasting re-
membrance. For his was the singular destiny and
merit, of leading the armies of his country success-
fully through an arduous war, for the establishment
of its independence ; of conducting its councils
through the birth of a government, new in its forms
and principles, until it had settled down into a quiet
and orderly train; and of scrupulously obeying the
laws through the whole of his career, civil and mili-
tary, of which the history of the world furnishes no
other example.

MORALITIES.

To Tliomas Jefferson Smith, Monticello, Feb. 21, 1S25.
This letter will, to you, be as one from the dead.
The writer will be in the grave before you can
weigh its councils. Your affectionate and excellent
father has requested that I would address to you
something which might possibly have- a favorable
influence on the course of life you have to run ; and
I too, as a namesake, feel an interest in that course.
Few words will be necessary, with good dispositions
on your part. Adore God. Reverence and cherish
5'our parents. Love your neighbor as yourself, and
your country more than yourself. Be just. Be true.
Murmur not at the' ways of Providence. So shall
the life, into which you have entered, be the portal
to one of eternal and ineffable bliss. And, if to the

216

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

dead it is permitted to care for the things of this
world, every action of your life will be under my
regard. Farewell.

Monticello, February 21st, 1825.

The Portrait of a Good Man, by (he most sublime of Poets,
for your imitation.

Lord, who's the happy man that may to thy blest

courts repair ;
Sot, stranger-like, to visit them, but to inhabit there?
'T is he, whose every thought and deed by rules of

virtue moves;
"Whose generous tongue disdains to speak, the thing

his heart disproves.
Who never did a slander forge, his neighbor's fame

to wound;
Nor hearken to a false report, by malice whispered

round.

Who vice, in all its pomp and power, can treat with

just neglect ;
And piety, though eloth'd in rags, religiously respect.
"ft ho to his plighted vows and trust, has ever firmly

stcod;
And though he promise to his loss, he makes his

promise good.
Whose soul in usury disdains his treasure to employ ;
Whom no rewards can ever bribe, the guiltless to

destroy.
The man, who by this steady course has happiness

ensured,
When earth's foundations shake, shall stand, by

Providence secured.

A Decalogue of Canons for observation in practical life.

1. Never put off till to-morrow what you can do

to-day.

2. Never trouble another for what you can do

yourself.

3. Never spend your money before you have it.

4. Never buy what you do not want, because it is

cheap; it will be dear to you.

5. Pride costs us more than hunger, thirst, and

cold.

6. We never repent of having eaten too little.

7. Nothing is troublesome that we do willingly.

8. How much pain have cost us the evils that have

never happened.

9. Take things always by their smooth handle.
10. AVhen angry, count ten before you speak; if

very angry, an hundred.

NATHANAEL EMMONS
Was a native of Connecticut, born in the town
of East Haddam, county of Hartford, May 1,
1745. In his Autobiography, written towards
the close of his life, he tells us that his parents,
finding him of " a volatile, trifling spirit," as a
schoolboy, altered their purpose of sending him
to college, and determined to make a farmer
of him; a resolution which put him upon his
mettle for study. He bought a Latin accidence
and grammar with his own money, before he
attended a grammar-school. In 1763, he entered
Yale, where he was a classmate of the poet Trum-
bull, and found himself, on the completion of his
course,- by the loss of his parents, without money
■or a home. School-keeping was the obvious and
uniform resource in such cases, and Emmons
taught school for some months, till he entered the
family of the Eev. Nathan Strong, of Coventry,
Conn., teaching his children, and himself acquiring

theology. He also placed himself under the in-
struction of the Rev. Dr. Smalley.*

In 1769, he was licensed by the South Associa-
tion in Hartford county. In 1773, he was or-
dained to the pastoral care of the Second church,
in Wrentham, Mass., the name of the district from
which the town of Franklin was subsequently
organized in 1778, receiving its name in honor of
the philosopher.

After having sustained a pastoral relation with

his congregation of more than fifty years, he

retired from his ministry at the first decided

, warning of the loss of his powers, in Ma}', 1827.

J He still, however, though fully relinquishing

i his office, retained a connexion with its new

ministry, and at the time of his death had

been for seventy years, in all, connected with the

church at that place.

Emmons was thrice married ; to the first wife,
Miss Deliverance French, the daughter of Moses
French, of Braintree, Mass., who died three years
after, in 1775 ; in less than two years after, he
married the daughter of the Eev. Chester Wil-
liams, of Hadley, Mass., who was his partner till
1829, for a period of nearly fifty years; and in 1831,
in his eighty -seventh year, he was married (her
third ministerial husband) to Mrs. Abigail M. Mills,
the. widow of a clergyman of Sutton. The loss of
several children in advanced life caused him much
affliction, and drew from him, on the death of a
favorite daughter, one of the most touching pas-
sages of his discourses. His death occurred Sep-
tember 23d, 1840, in his ninety-sixth year. "While
his memory and personal vivacity and activity
were somewhat impaired, in the few latter years
of his life", he was still a great reader. " When
he was ninety years of age," says his biographer,
the Rev. A. R. Baker, " and often found it diffi-
cult to remember the name of yesterday's victor,
he would relate the contents of the last book he
read with surprising accuracy, and would make
extemporaneous criticisms upon it which would
have ornamented the pages of a quarterly .'"t

The writings of Emmons are numerous. He
published, Prof. Park tells us, "more than seven
thousand copies of nearly two hundred sermons,
besides four labored dissertations and numerous
essays for periodicals." The collection of his
works, by Ids son-in-law, Dr. Ide, containing two
hundred and twenty-two sermons, fills six large
octavo volumes ; and the editor remarks, that he
has the material for ten more in his hands, as
valuable as those which he has published.! Be-
sides these sermons, Emmons's uncollected writ-
ings include more than a hundred articles, mostly
on religious topics, in the New England Ecclesias-
tical reviews and periodicals, the Massachusetts
Missionary Magazine, the Connecticut Evangeli-
cal Magazine, the Hopkinsian Magazine, and the
Christian Magazine.

The style of Emmons as a writer is clear and

* This divine was born at Lebanon, Conn., in 1734, and died
in lS2ft. He was minister at Berlin, Conn. ; published sermons
on Natural and Moral Inability, 17G0; sermons on Connected
Subjects, 18(3, with other sermons and occasional publications.

t Memoir, Am. Quar. Beg. xv. 121.

X The Works of Kathanael Emmons, D.D., late Pastor of
the Church in Franklin, Mass., with a Memoir of his Life.
Edited by Jacob Ide, B.D. 6 vols. Svo. Boston : Crocker &
Brewster, 1L42.

NATHANAEL EMMOXS.

247

plain, direct and forcible, without richness or
ornament. His own theory on the subject is
expressed in one of his aphorisms, — "Style is
only the frame to hold our thoughts. It is like
the sash of a window; a heavy sash will obscure
the light. The object is to have as little sash as
will hold the lights, that we may not think of the
frame, but have the most light." This is true in
some respects, though genuine ornament is part of
the substance, and when the sash is provided,
much depends upon the purity of the glass and
the force of the sun.

With respect to Emmons's theological views, as
the author of his memoirs remarks, "A perusal
of his works is that only which can give the
reader a full and accurate knowledge of his
opinion-;." They involve many niceties of meta-
physical and polemical discussion on the freedom
of the will and the work of conversion. Dr. Ide
has arranged two volumes of the discourses under
the title, Systematic Theology, though the author
himself never prepared a professed sj'stem. He
appears to have engrafted on the doctrine of total
depravity a theory of "the free, voluntary, selfish
affections," and he held that "men are active and
not passive in regeneration."* When once asked,
" What is the difference between natural depravity
and original sin?" he replied, in his quick way,
" Natural depravity is the truth ; original sin is a
lie."

.His Jeroboam sermon, on the annual fast of
April 9th, 1801,+ shortly after the inauguration of
Jefferson, has been generally understood to have
been levelled at the new President. It could
hardly be mistaken, as it plays off Solomon against
the infidel Rehoboam with artful parallelism to
the new nineteenth century. It is long drawn,
solemn, and withering. Reading it with the sub-
stitution of Washington, Adams, and Jefferson
for their scriptural prototypes, and taking the
federal politics of the time into view, it is a curi-
ous analogy — for example :

Jefferson as Secretary of State. — And Solomon,
seeing the young man that lie was industrious, made
him ruler over all tlie charge of the house of Joseph.
His appointment to such an office, by such a pene-
trating prince, is an infallible evidence of his popu-
lar talents and pleasing address. These excellent
and amiable accomplishments, had they been pro-
perly directed to the public good, would have reu-
dered him a great benefit to the nation.

Jefferson in Paris. — His flight into Egypt seems to
have been the most fatal period in Jeroboam's life.
* * He could not have lived among a more dan-
gerous people than the Egyptians, who were then
the most noted nation in the world for learning, mag-
nificence, superstition, and the grossest idolatry.
Hence his residence in Egypt prepared him to return
to his native country a more bitter enemy to the
God of Israel, and a more malignant opposer of all
his sacred rites and institutions than any pagan
priest or Egyptian philosopher. Such was the omi-
nous character of Jeroboam the son of Nebat before
he reached the object of his wishes, and was placed
iu the first seat of Government.

Jeroboam's new appointments to office. — He was
resolved to shake every sacred as well as civil officer

* Schedule of doctrines found among his papers.— Ide's Me-
moir, lxxvii.
t Works, ii. 184.

from his seat rather than to lose his own. We are
not, indeed, informed whom he appointed to stand
around his person and assist him in the administra-
tioa of government; but who can doubt whether
he did not display the same corruption of heart in
appointing the officers of state which he had dis-
played in appointing the officers of religion ?

His powers of conversation. — It appears from his
character and conduct in early life, that he possessed
in a high degree the art of captivating and corrupt-
ing all sorts of people with whom he conversed.
And when he was clothed with the ensigns of roy-
alty his power and opportunity of corrupting his
subjects greatly increased. He became the standard
of taste and model of imitation. His sentiments and
manners became a living law to his subjects. In his
familiar intercourse with all around him he undoubt-
edly seized those soft moments which were the most
favorable to his malignant design of seduction. This
he could do without departing from the dignity of
his station.

If terms and phrases like these needed any
" improvement," they had it in the sequel of the
doctor's discourse :

It is more than possible that our nation may find
themselves in the hands of a Jeroboam, who will
drive them from following the Lord, and whenever
they do they will rue the day, and detest the folly,
delusion, and intrigue which raised him to the head
of the United States.

And he asks the pertinent question — ■

Who can say that men in power may not catch the
spirit of the times, and follow the example of Jero-
boam, or rather that of the late apostates in Eu-
rope? We are becoming more and more connected
with those infidel nations, whose politicians and phi-
losophers are the bold patrons and preachers of
infidelity. This mutual intercourse affords a pecu-
liar opportunity to try the whole force of their
infatuating philosophy upon us in America. And it
is beyond a doubt that our rulers are the most
exposed to their fatal delusions.

Emmons's federal politics were clearly an-
nounced in his sermon on American Independence,
July 5, 1802, in which he claims not only all the
sound principles of government for his friends, but
also the right of celebration of the National
Jubilee. " It is presumption," he said from the
pulpit, " in republicans to claim this day as their
own."*

There is a well drawn and interesting account
of Emmons, entitled Miscellaneous Reflections of
a Visiter upon the character of Dr. Amnions, in
I "a familiar lecture" to the senior class in Andover
Theological Seminary, by Prof. Edwards A. Park.
It is prefixed to the collection of the works, where it
forms forty-five closely printed octavo pages. We
may best gather from this the memorabilia of this
extraordinary man. "In person he was not more
than five feet and seven inches high, but he stood
erect, and was in all senses upright. When he
appeared in the streets of a New England city, in'
his latter days, with bis three-cornered hat, the
bright buckles on his shoe and knee, his white
locks flowing down his shoulders, the boys flocked
after him, as after a military general. System
characterized his movements. His guests would

* Works, H. 229.

.24S

CYCLOPAEDIA OF A31ERICAN LITERATURE.

a] Trays find his hat hanging' on the same nail in
the study. Every chair was in its place; every
hook on its shelf, save the one he was reading ;
ami that was put into the book-case as soon as a
visitor arrived. His style of writing was neat as
his white locks. He was always attentive to his
chirogfaphy, and wrote a better hand at the age
of seventy-five than at thirty-five."

The doctor was an odd man, but there was
method in his oddity, and his wit was not always
to be encountered. "A certain divine," Prof.
Park tells the story, "the junior of Dr. Emmons
by several years, unequal lo him in acumen and
theological knowledge, and under some peculiar
'obligation to treat him with deference, was fond,
although doubtless a very good man, of appear-
ing like a metropolitan before the minister of
Franklin, and as he was physically at least a great
man, much superior in altitude to the doctor,
he was inclined to look down on the country par-
son, as the smaller of the two. This domineering
treatment was endured with patience until
patience ceased to be a virtue. Having read Dr.
Emmons's sermon on the Atonement, a sermon
which was encountering at that time some oppo-
sition, he sent to the Franklin minister the fol-
lowing .epistle: 'May 1st. My Dear Brother,
— I have read your sermon on the Atonement,
and have wept over it. Yours affectionately,
A. B. 0.' These admonitory words were no
sooner read than the following was written and
sent to the post-office : ' May 3d. Dear Sir, — I
have read your letter and laughed at it. Yours,
Natiiaxael Em.moxs.' " To a young preacher he
said, " Your sermon was too much like Seekonk
plain, long and level." A drunken sceptic asked
him, "What is understood by the soul of man?"
"No," said the doctor, "I can't tell a man that
hasn't got any." Conversing once with a lapsing
theological opponent, whom he had pressed hard,
when the victim took refuge in the assertion,
" "Well, every tub must stand upon its own bot-
tom " — "Yes, yes," said the doctor, "but what
shall those tubs do that haven't any bottoms?"
■ H:s shrewd, vigorous sense is exhibited in many
a dogmatic utterance. On being asked what was
the best system of rhetoric for a clergyman, he
gave these two rules : — " First, have something
, to say ; second, say it." Many of his terse con-
versational aphorism? have been preserved. " Of
the two Edwardses," he said, " the father had
more reason than his son, but the son was a
greater reasoner than his father." " Great men,"
was one of his maxims, " always committed great
errors." Of the pulpit, it was his remark,
"Preach with animation er.ongh to produce a
great excitement of the natural sympathies, which
will make persons think they have some native
goodness;" and, "Be short in all religious exer-
cises. Better leave the people longing than
loathing. No conversions after the hour is out."
" A man must not only know the truth, but know
that he knows it." " The worst books," he said,
" were the best : they compel us to think."

The doctor kept a jealous eye upon his flock,
sedulously guarding them from sectarian wolves.
That we do not use the last word unadvisedly
may be learnt from an anecdote illustrating Em-
mons's downright brusque manner, preserved in
the memoir of Ide. " A very respectable clergy-

man of another denomination was solicited by a
gentleman in Franklin to come and preach at his
house, and, as Dr. Emmons thought, with .a view
to make an impression upon his people in favor
of the peculiarities of that denomination. Shortly
after receiving the invitation, this clergyman met
Dr. Emmons in Boston, and told him that he had
been invited to come and give his people a ser-
mon. The doctor very pleasantly replied, 'You
have a very important sphere of labor assigned
you where you are. You need not take the
trouble to come to Franklin. I can take care of
my own fleck.' ' But,' said the clergyman, ' you
will not object to my coming?' The doctor, un-
derstanding by this that he was still inclined to
come, notwithstanding the hint which had been
given him, made the following characteristic
reply: 'I do object, and if you come to Franklin
in our present circumstances I'll consider and
treat you as a wolf in sheep's clothing.' This
clergyman never came."

There are some interesting observations by
Prof. Park in his notes on Emmons, with respect
to the habits of study, and longevity of the clergy
of New England. " We read of the two Edwardses,
Hopkins, Smaller, Stiles, Chauney,' and Dwight,
as at their books thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, and
sometimes eighteen hours of the day. Dr. Emmons,
in this respect, equalled any of them. Mr. Stod-
dard of Northampton died at eighty-six; Dr. In-
crease Mather at eighty-four; Dr. Cotton Mather
at sixty-five; Dr. Stiles at sixty-eight; Dr. Johnson
at seventy -six ; Dr. Hopkins at eighty-three ; Dr.
Bellamy at seventy-two ; Dr. Hart at si_ty-nine;'
President Chauney, of Harvard, and Dr. Chauney,
of Boston, at eighty-two ; Dr. Smalley at eighty-
six ; Dr. AVest* at eighty-four; Dr. Strong at sixty-
eight; Dr. Lothrop at ninety. These divines
lived abstemiously, but neglected physical exercise.
'I do not ascribe my long continued health,' said
Dr. Emmons, 'to any whimsical care of my diet;
what has hurt me I have not eaten. I have
avoided stimulating liquids, have seldom drunk
coti'ee unless it were half milk and half sugar,
have been always temperate in the use of simple
food, and have secured good sleep.' "t There

* There -were three Wests of repute in the old New Erg-
land churches: fcanmel, the minister of New- Bedford, who
died in 18m, at the age of seventy-seven. He published,
among other doctrinal ■writings, "Essays on Liberty and Ne-
cessity,1' in two parts, in 17&3"and 1765, in which he reviewed
the arguments of Edwards. Another Samuel West, horn
at Martha s Vineyard, in 1738, was minister at Needham and
in Boston, lie died in l&lS, having published a number of
sermons and the Essays, in the CoiumUan Ccntiuel. of "an Old
Wan," in l&i u' and n7. Stephen West, the minister of Stock-
bridge, published an Essay on Moral Agency in 1772, and was
also the author of a Treatise on the Atonement. He was born
in Tolland. Conn,, 1730, and died in Itlil. Joseph Bellamy was
a native of Connecticut, born at New Cheshire,, in 171'.'. lie
was fifty years minister of the church at Bethlcm. He died in
1790. His works were collected in three volumes, in 1S11, and
were reprinted in two volumes octavo, in 1SS3, by the Doc-
trinal Tract and Book Society, Boston. His True Religion.
Delineated was published in 175.:.

t Emmons sat in the same study chair more than half a cen-
tury, and when about ninety years of age he relaxed the Severity
of his mental toil, he fitly consented to abandon the old aim
chair for a new and easier one. " I should like well enough to
travel," he said in his latter days of leisure* "if 1 could lake my
study with me. Habits are stubborn tilings; and I have be-
come so accustomed to this room, lo this dosk, to this chair,
and to this spot where I sit, that i do not feel at home any-
where else. 1 cannot talk anywhere else.'' He had a regufar
hour for conversation witli his students and friends; and a pe-
culiar movement of his body towards the study-table was equal
to a sheriff's order that the room should be cleared, aLd ho Le
left alone. — Prof. Paiks Notices.

JAMES MOODY.

249

was much, too, in the assurance of a settled
position, and the absorption of care in "the quiet
and -till air of delightful studies."

JAMES MOODT,

A loyalist of the American war, whom the out-
breaking of the Revolution found at his farm in
Now Jersey, lias left a well written account of his
celebrated partisan warfare, which gave much
trouble to the movements of Washington, in a
pamphlet published in London in 1783, entitled
Lieut. James Moody's fflarjvUive of his Exertions
and Sufferings in the Cause of Government, since
the year 1776, with certificates from Gov. Wm.
Franklin, of New Jersey, the Rev. Dr. Inglis of
New York, and others. He went through many
perilous, hair-breadth adventures, preserving his
life in extraordinary emergencies by his selt-pos-
session and bravery. As his pamphlet is now
very scarce, we present one or two of these
scenes in his well written narrative.* Here is
an anecdote of his ubiquitous presence; for like
the true partisan, he was everywhere, at least to
the imagination of his enemies ; with an affecting
story of a true man, who deserved a better fate . —

Returning again into 'Sussex county, he now heard
that several prisoners were confined, on various
suspicions and charges of loyalty, in the jail of that
county ; and that one of them was actually under
sentence of de:ith. This poor fellow was one of
Burgoyne's soldiers, charged with crimes ol a civil
nature, of which, however, he was generally be-
lieve! to bo innocent. But when a clergyman of
the L'hurch-of England interposed with his unrelent-
ing prosecutor, and warmly urged this plea of inno-
cence, he was sharply told, that, though he might
not perhaps deserve to die for the crime for which
he had been committed, there could be no doubt of
his deserving to die, as an enemy to America.
There was something so piteous, as well as shame-
ful, in the case of this ill-fated victim to republican
resentment, that it was determined, if possible, to
release both him and his fellow-prisoners. For this
purpose,' Mr. Moody took with him six men ; and,
late at night, entered the country town, about
seventy miles from New York. The inhabitants of
the town were but too generally disaffected. This
suggested the necessity of stratagem. Coming to
the jail, the keeper called Out from the window of
an upper room, and demanded what their business
was ? The Ensign instantly replied, He had a pri-
soner to deliver into his custody. "What! one of
Moody's fellows ?" said the jailor. " Yes," said the
Ensign. On his inquiring what the name of this
supposed prisoner was, one of the party, who was
well known by the inhabitants'of that place to be
with Mr. Moody, personated the character of a pri-
soner, and spoke for himself. The jailor gave him
a little ill language; but, notwithstanding, seemed
highly pleased with the idea of his having so noto-
rious a Tory in his custody. On the Ensign's urg-
ing him to come down, and take charge of the
man, he peremptorily refused ; alleging, that in con-
sequence of Moody's being out, he had received
strict orders to open his doors to no man after sun-
set; and that therefore he must wait till morning.
Finding that this tale would not take, the Ensign
now changed his note; and, in a stern tone, told
him, " Sirrah, the man- who ndw srjeaks to you is

* We fire indebted for a copy of this work to the courtesy
of Air. W. J. Duvis, of this city.

Moody : I have a strong party with me. and if you
do not this moment deliver up your keys, 1 will in-
stantly pull down your house about your ears."
The jailor vanished in a moment, On this Mr.
Moody's men, who were well skilled in the Indian
war-whoop, made the air resound with such a vari-
ety of hideous yells, as soon left them nothing to
fear from the inhabitants of New Town, which,
though the county town, consists only of twenty or
thirty houses. "The Indians! the Indians are
come," said the panic-struck people ; and happy
were they who could soonest escape into the woods.'
While these things were thus going on, the Ensigu
had made his way through a casement, and was met
by a prisoner, whom he immediately employed to
procure him a light. The vanquished jailor was
now again produced, and most obsequiously con-
ducted Mr. Moody to the dungeon of the poor
wretch under sentence of death.

It may seem incredible, but it is an undoubted
fact, that, notwithstanding all the horrors and
awfulness of his situation,. this poor, forlorn, con-
demned British soldier was found fast asleep, and
had slept so so.und as to have heard nothing of the
uproar or alarm. There is no possibility of describ-
ing the agony of this man, when, on being thus sud-
denly aroused, he saw before him a man in arms,
attended by persons, whom, though they were fami-
liarly known to him, so agitated were his spirits, he
waS .utterly at a loss then to recognise. The first,
and the only idea that occurred to him was, that, as
many of the friends ot Government had been pri-
vately executed in prison, the person he saw was
his executioner. On Mr. Moody's repeatedly inform-
ing him of his mistake, and that he was come to re-
lease hmi in the name of King George, the transi-
tion fro n such an abyss of wretchedness to so extra-
vagant a pitch of joy had well nigh overcome him.
Never before had the writer been present at so
affecting a scene. The image of the poor soldier,
alternately agitated with the extremes, of despair
and rapture, is, at this moment, present to his ima-
gination, as strong almost as if the object were still
before him; and he has often thought, there are few
subjects 6,i which a painter of taste and sensibility
could more happily employ his pencil. The man
looked wild, and undoubtedly was wild, and hardly
in his senses; and yet he labored, and was big with
some of the noblest sentiments and most powerful
passions by which the human mind is ever actu-
ated. In such circumstances it was with some diffi-
culty that the English got him away. At length,
however, his clothes were got on ; and he, with all
the rest who chose to avail themselves of the oppor-
tunity, were conducted into safety, notwithstanding
a warm pursuit of several days.

The humane reader, Mr. Moody persuades him-
self, will not be less affected than he himself. was, at
the mournful sequel of this poor soldier's tale. In
the course of war he was again taken, and again
conducted to the dungeon, a. id afterwards actually
executed on the same sentence on which lie had
been before convicted; though he left the world
with the most solemn asseverations of his innocence
as to any crime of which he hid been accused, ex-
cepting only an unshaken allegiance to his sove-
reign.

A few other particulars respecting this poor man,
who, though but a common soldier in a marching
regiment, was, in all the essential and best parts of
tlie character, an hero, the writer cannot excuse
himself from the relation of. His situation and cir-
cumstances in the rebel country being peculiar, Mr.
Moody not thinking it proper himself to return
thither so soon, took the earliest means he could to

250

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

have him conveyed safe to New York. But no
arguments, no entreaties could prevail with him to
leave his deliverer. " To you," said he, " I owe my
life; to you and inyourservicelet medevoteit. You
have found me in, circumstances of ignominy ; I wish
for an opportunity to convince you that you have
not been mistaken in thinking me innocent. I am,
and you shall find me, a good soldier." It was to
this fatal but fixed determination that he soon after
owed the loss of his life.

When he was brought to the place Of execution,
the persons wdio had charge of him told him they
had authority to promise him a reprieve ; and they
did most solemnly promise it to him, on condition
only that he would tell them who the loyalists in
the country were, that had assisted Moody. His
reply was most manly and noble ; and proves that
real nobility and dignity of sentiment are appropri-
ated to no particular rank or condition of life. " I
love life," he said, " and there is nothing which a
man of honor can do, that 1 would not do to save
it; but I cannot pay this price for it. The men
you wish me to betray must be good men, because
they have assisted a good man in. a good cause.
Innocent as I am, I feel this an awful moment.
How far it becomes you to tempt me to make it ter-
rible, by overwhelming me in the basest guilt, your-
selves must judge. My life is in your power; my
conscience, I thank God, is still my own."

Another extraordinary circumstance is said to
have befallen him, which, as well as the preceding,
Mr. Moody relates, on the testimony of an eye-wit-
ness, yet living. Though he was a small and light
man, yet the rope with which he was suspended
broke. Even still tins poor man's admirable pre-
sence of mind and dignity of conscious innocence
did not forsake him. He instantly addressed him-
self to the surrounding multitude, in the following
words: "Gentlemen, I cannot but hope that this
very extraordinary event will convince you of
what I again solemnly protest to you, that 1 am in-
nocent of the crime for which you have adjudged
me to die." But he still protested in vain.

The supposed crime for which he suffered was,
the plundering and robbing the house of a certain
furious and powerful rebel. But it would be unjust
to his memory not to certify, as Mr. Moody does,
that he has since learned, from the voluntary con-
fession of a less conscientious loyalist, that this
honest man was charged wrongfully, inasmuch as he
himself, without the knowledge of the other, on the
principles of retaliation and revenge, had com-
mitted the crime. The name of the above-men-
tioned honest soldier and martyr was Robert Max-
well, a Scotsman, who had had a good education.

He made a famous attempt to secure the person
of Gov. Livingston, of New Jersey, in which he
■ failed from information given by one of his com-
rades. His favorite exploit was to cut off the
American despatches, which hefrequently brought
into New York. He was taken and imprisoned
at West Point, where he found General Arnold a
rigorous jailor. Writing some time after Arnold's
treason, he naively says, " Under new masters, it
is hoped, General Arnold has learned new max-
ims. Compelled by truth, however, Mr. Moody
must bear him testimony, that lie was then faith-
ful to his employers, and abated not an iota in
fulfilling both the letter and the spirit of their
general orders and instructions." His subsequent
escape is thus told : — ■

The ways of Providence are often mysterious,

frequently bringing about its ends by the most un-
likely means. To this inhuman treatment in Gene-
ral Arnold's camp, Mr. Moody owed his future safety.
On the 1st of September, he was carried to Wash-
ington's camp, and there confined near their Libeity
pole. Colonel Skammel, the Adjutant General,
came to see him put in irons. When they had
handcuffed him, he remonstrated with the Colonel,
desiring that his legs, which were indeed in a worse
situation than even his wrists, might be examined;
farther adding only, that death would be infinitely
preferable to a repetition of the torments he had
just undergone. The Colonel did examine his legs;
and on seeing them, he also acknowledged that his
treatment had indeed been too bad; and asked if
General Arnold had been made acquainted with his
situation. Mr. Moody feels a sincere pleasure in thus
publicly acknowledging his obligations and his
gratitude to Colonel Skammel, who humanely gave
orders to the Provost Marshal to take good care of
him, and by no means to suffer any irons to be put
on his legs, till they were likely to prove less dis-
tressing.

Mr. Moody attended the rebel army in its march
over the New Bridge ; and had an opportunity of
observing their whole line, and counting their artil-
lery. Everything seemed smooth and fair; and he
felt himself much at ease, in the prospect of being
soon exchanged; when, very unexpectedly, he was
visited by an old acquaintance, one of their Colonels,
who informed him that he was in twb days' time to
be brought to trial ; that Livingston was to be his
prosecutor, and that the Court Martial was carefully
picked for the purpose. He subjoined that he
would do wrell to prepare for eternity, since, from
the evidence which he knew would be produced,
there was but one issue of the business to be
expected. Mr. Moody requested to be informed,
what it was the purpose of this evidence to prove?
It was, his well-wisher told him, that he had assassi-
nated a Captain Shaddock and a Lieutenant Hen-
drickson. These were the two officers who had fallen
fairly in battle near Black Point, as has been already
related. The Ensign replied, that he felt himself
much at ease on that account, as it could be suffi-
ciently cleared up by their own people, who had
been in, and had survived the action, as well as by
some of their officers, who were at the time prison-
ers to him, and spectators of the whole affair. "All
this," said his friend, " will be of little avail ; you
are so obnoxious ; you have been, and are likely to
be, so mischievous to us, that, be assured, we are
resolved to get rid of you at any rate. Besides,
you cannot deny, and it can be proved by incontes-
table evidence, that you have enlisted men, in this
state, for the King's service, and this, by our laws,
is death."

Ensign Moody affected an air of unconcern at this
information ; but it was too serious and important
to him to be really disregarded ; he resolved, there-
fore, from that moment, to effect his escape, or to
perish in the attempt.

Every precaution had been taken to secure the
place in which he was confined. It was nearly in
the centre of the rebel camp. A sentinel was placed
within the door of his prison, and another without,
besides four others close round, and within a few
yards of the place. The time now came on when
he must either make his escape, or lose the oppor-
tunity forever. On the night, therefore, of the 17 th
of September, busy in ruminating on his project, he
had, on the pretence of being cold, got a watch-coat
thrown across his shoulders, that he .might better
conceal, from his unpleasant companion, the opera-
tions which lie meditated against his handcuffs,

JOSIAH QUINCY, JR.

251

While he was racking his invention, to find some
possible means of extricating himself from his fetters,
he providentially cast his e\"e on a post fastened in
the ground, through -which an hole had been bored
with an auger ; and it occurred to him that it might
be possible, with the aid of this hole, to break the
bolt of his handcuffs. Watching the opportunity,
therefore, from time to time, of the sentinel's look-
ing another way, lie thrust the point of the bolt
into the above-mentioned hole, and by cautiously
exerting his strength, and gradually bending the
iron backwards and forwards, he at length broke it.
Let the reader imagine what his sensations were,
when he found the manacles drop from his hands!
He sprung instantly past the interior sentinel, and
rushing on the next, with one hand he seized his
musket, and with the other struck him to the ground.
The sentinel within, and the four others who were
placed by the fence surrounding the place of his
confinement, immediately gave the alarm ; and in a
moment the cry was general — " Moody is escaped
from the Provost." It is impossible to describe the
uproar which now took place throughout the whole
camp. In a few minutes every man was in a bustle;
every man was looking for Moody, and multitudes
passed him on all sides, little suspecting that a man
whom they saw deliberately marching along, with a
musket on his shoulder, could be the fugitive they
were in quest of. The darkness of the night, which
was also blustering and drizzly, prevented a.iy dis-
crimination of his person, and was indeed the great
circumstance that rendered his escape possible.

But no small difficulty still remained to be sur-
mounted. To prevent desertion, Washington had
surrounded his camp with a chain of sentinels, post-
ed at about forty or fifty yards' distance from each
other; he was unacquainted with their stations; to
pass them undiscovered was next to impossible ; and
to be discovered would certainly be fatal. In this
dilemma Providence again befriended him. He had
gained their station without knowing it, when luck-
ily he heard the watchword passed from one to
another — ■" Look sharp to the chain : Moody is
escaped from the Provost." From the sound of the
voices he ascertainel the respective situations of
these sentinels; and throwing himself on his hands
and knees, he was happy enough to crawl through
the vacant space between two of them, unseen by
either. Judging that their line of pursuit would
naturally be towards the British arm}1, he made a
detour into the woods on the opposite side. Through
these woods he made as much speed as the darkness
of the night would permit, steering his course, after
the Indian manner, by occasionally groping and
feeling the white oak. On the south side t!ie bark
of this tree is rough and unpleasant to the touch,
but ou the north side it is smooth ; hence it serves
the sagacious traverser of the desert, by night as
well as by day, for his compass. Through the most
dismal woods and swamps he continued to wander
till the night of the 21st, a space of more than fifty-
six hours, during which tim ■ he had. no other sus-
tenance than a few beejh leaves (which, of all that
the woods afforded, were the least unpleasant to the
taste, and least pernicious to health), which he chew-
ed and swallowed, to abate the intolerable cravings
of his hunger.

Ill every inhabited district he knew there were
friends of Government; and he had now learned
also, where and how to find them out, without
endangering their safety, which was always the first
object of his concern. From some of these good
men he received minute information how the pursuit
after him was directed, and where every guard was
posted. Thus assisted, he eluded their keenest vigi-

lance: and, at length, by God's blessing, to his
unspeakable joy he arrived safe at Paulus liook.

Moody went to England, at the close of the
war, with recommendations to Government from
Sir Henry Clinton, and afterwards settled on his
half pay in Nova Scotia, where he died at Sissi-
bou, in 1809, at the age of sixty-five.*

JOSIAH QUIXCY, JR.

Edmttn'h. the first of the name of Quincy, in New
EngUind, landed at Boston with John Cotton, the
eminent divine, in September, 1633. We hear in
1G35 of a grant of land on Mount Wollaston to
him by the town, and soon after of his death, at
the age of thirty-three. His only son, Edmund,
born in England in 1627, who lived on the lands
at Mount Wollaston, afterwards called Braintree,
was a country magistrate, and died in 16117. He
had two sons, Daniel and Edmund, both of whom
died before him. Daniel left a son John, born in
1689, who served for forty years as a representa-
tive of his district in the Provincial Legislature,
and as a member of the Executive Council, and
died a day after the birth of his great-grandson,
John Quincy Adams.

J^?

The youngest son of Daniel's brother, Edmund,
was born in 1681, and died at London in 1738,
while engaged as the agent of the colony in press-
ing her claims in the dispute as to the boundary
between her territory and that of New Hamp-
shire. During the latter part of his life he tilled
the office of Judge of the Supremo Court of Mas-
sachusetts. Josiah, the youngest of Ids two sons,
was born in 1709, and in 1755 appointed by Go-
vernor Shirley to negotiate with New York and
Pennsylvania for the establishment of the frontier
post of. Ticonderoga. He executed other impor-
tant public trusts, and died in 1784. His young-
est son, Josiah Quincy, Jr., was born at Boston,
Feb. 22, 1744, and educated at the school of Mr.
Joseph Marsh in Braintree. He entered Harvard
in 1759, and was a hard student, not only of the
Greek and Latin but also of the English classics.
A closely written manuscript of seventy pages
quarto, filled with extracts from Shakespeare, is
still extant with the date 1762. On taking Ids
Master's degree in 1766, lie delivered an English
oration on Patriotism, a fitting commencement of
his public career. He had previously bo this, in
1763, commenced the study of law with the dis-
tinguished Oxenbridge Tliacher of Boston. He
succeeded, on the death of his instructor, in July,
1765, to the care of the office, and on his admis-
sion to the bar, to a large practice. A number
of MS. volumes of Reports from his hand at this
time proves his industry and enthusiasm in his
profession. He is said to have been the first

* Sabine's Biographical Sketches of American Loyalists, p.

252

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

lawyer who put his name on a " shingle" at his
office dour.

. Quincy commenced his career as political writer
by the publication of two articles in the Boston
Gazette, in September and October, 1767, on the
recent restrictions on the commerce and enlarge-
ment of the military forces of the colonies. One
of these contains this spirited passage.

In defence of our civil and religions rights, we
dare oppose the world; with the God of armies on
our side, even the God who fought our fathers' bat-
tles, we fear not the hour of trial, though the hosts
of our enemies should cover the field like locusts.
If this be enthusiasm, we will bve and die enthu-
siasts.

Blandishments will not fascinate us, nor will
threats of a " halter" intimidate. For under God,
we are determined, that wheresoever, whensoever,
or howsoever, we shall be called to make our exit,
we will die freemen. Weil do we know that all the
regalia of this world cannot dignify the death of a
villain, nor diminish the ignominy, with which a
slave shall quit Ids existence. ]S either can it taint
the unblemished honor of a son of freedom, though
he should make his departure on the already pre-
pared gibbet, or be dragged to the newly erected
scaffold for execution. With the plaudits of his con-
science he will go off the stage. A crown of joy and
immortality shall be his reward. The history of his
life his children shall venerate. The virtues of their
sire shall excite their emulation.

He followed these by others of a similar cha-
racter during the next year. The landing of
troops in October called forth a vigorous appeal.

Oh, my countrymen ! what will our children say,
when they read the history of these times, should
they find we tamely gave away, without one noble
struggle, the most invaluable of earthly blessings?
As tiiey drag the gallir.g chain, will they not exe-
crate us ? If we have any respect for things sacred ;
any regard to the dearest treasure on earth ; — if we
have one tender sentiment for posterity ; if we would
not be despised by the whole world ; — let us, in the
most open, solemn manner, and with determined
fortitude, swear, — we will die, — if we cannot live
freemen !

Be not lulled, my countrymen, with vain imagina-
tions or idle fancies. To hope for the protection of
Heaven, without doing our duty, and exerting our-
selves as becomes men, is to mock the Deity.
"Wherefore had man his reason, if it were not to
direct him? Wherefore his strength, if it be not his
protection ? To banish folly and luxury, correct
vice and immorality, and stand immovable in the
freedom, in which we are free indeed, is eminently
the duty of each individual, at this day. When this
is done, we may rationally hope for an answer to
our prayers; for the whole counsel of God, and the
invincible armour of the Almighty.

However righteous our cause, we cannot, in this
period of the world, expect a miraculous salvation.
Heaven will undoubtedly assist us, if we act like
men ; but to expect protection from above, while we
are enervated by luxury, and slothful in the exertion
of those abilities with which we are endued, is an
expectation vain and foolish. With the smiles of
Heaven, virtue, unanimity, and firmness will insure
success. While we have equity, justice, -and God on
our side, Tyranny, spiritual or temporal, shall never
ride triumphant in a land inhabited by Englishmen.

His increasing practice prevented him from su-

pervising the printing of these essays, but an in-
scription on one of his MSS., " Let Samuel Adams,
Esq., correct the press," shows that this duty also
was in patriot hands. In October, 1769, he mar-
ried a daughter of William Phillips, a Boston
merchant, who afterwards rendered liberal finan-
cial assistance to the great cause. He still con-
tinued his communications under various signa-
tures, and on the 12th of February, 1770, said in
one of these —

From a conviction in my own mind, that America
is now the slave of Britain ; from a sense that we are
every day more and more in danger of an increase
of our burdens, and a fastening of our shackles, I
wish to see my countrymen break off, — off for ever!
— all social intercourse with those, whose commerce
contaminates, whose luxuries poison, whose avarice
is insatiable, and whose unnatural oppressions are
not to be borne. That Americans will know their
lights, that they will resume, assert, and defend
them, are matters of which I harbour no doubt.
Whether the arts of policy, or the arts of war, will
decide the contest, are problems, we will solve at a
more convenient season. He, whose heart is en-
amoured with the refinements of political artifice
and finesse, will seek one mode of relief; he whose
heart is free, honest, and intrepid, will pursue ano-
ther, a bolder, and more noble mode of redress.
This reply is so intelligible, that it needs no com-
ment or explanation.

The Boston Massacre occurred on the fifth of
March following, and Quincy, to his surprise, was
chosen by Colonel Preston, the English comman-
der, as his counsel. He accepted and discharged
the duty with his colleague, John Adams, not-
withstanding the opposition of .his friends and the
censure of an excited public opinion. That opi-
nion has long since justified a prediction con-
tained in a letter to his father, explanatory of his
course.

I dare affirm, that you and this whole people will
one day rejoice, that I became an advocate for the
aforesaid " criminals," charged with the murder of
our fellow-eitizens.

I never harboured the expectation, nor any great
desire, that all men should speak well of me. To
inquire my duty, and to do it, is my aim. Being
mortal, I am subject to error; and conscious of this,
I wish to be diffident. Being a rational creature, I
judge for myself, according to the light afforded me.
When a plan of conduct is formed with an honest
deliberation, neither murmuring, slander, nor re-
proaches move. For my single self, I consider,
judge, and with reason hope to be immutable.

There are honest men in all sects, — I wish their
approbation ;— there are wicked bigots in all par-
ties,— I abhor them.

Preston was defended and acqnitted, but the
opinions of his counsel remained unchanged on
the political bearing of the act. In a communi-
cation published February 11, 1771, he laments
"hearing so little discourse relative to a decent,
manly, and. instructive commemoration of the
melancholy tragedy of the fifth of March, 1770."
An oversight which was speedily corrected, the
"Boston Massacre Orations" having been com-
menced on the first anniversary of that event, and
continued for several years.

At the close of 1772, symptoms of pulmonary
disease having begun to develope themselves in

JEREMY BELKNAP.

253

consequence of Mr. Quincy's intense application
to business, lie sought relief in a voyage to
Charleston. He returned by land, and his jour-
nal, containing a curious though brief sketch of
the places he visited, is printed in his life by his
son. He returned in May with improved health.
During the next month the celebrated letters of
Hutchinson and others were discovered and trans-
mitted to the colonies by Franklin. Soon after
their publication Quinoy wrote a series of papers
with the. signature of Marchmont Needham, one of
which contains this passage : —

If to appear for my country is treason, and to arm
for her detene'e is rebellion,— like my fathers, I will
glory in the name of rebel and traitor, — as they did
in that of puritan and enthusiast

In May, 1774, he published a political pamph-
let, Observations on the act of Parliament, com-
monly called " The Boston Port Bill" with
Thoughts on Civil Society and Standing Armies.
It is sound and forcible in its reasoning, and con-
tains passages of much eloquence.

In September, 1774, Mr. Quinoy sailed for
England, with the double hope of reinvigorating
his constitution and effecting something for the
benefit of his country with the home government,
lie became acquainted in London with Lord
North and other leading statesmen of both par-
ties, and also with Franklin. Of the last he
writes, November 27, 1774 —

Be careful what parts of this letter you publish ;
without absolute necessity, do not publish any. Br.
Franklin and others complain much of their letters
being made public. It is a fear of that, that pre-
vents liini and many more from writing to yon.

Br. Franklin is an American in heart and soul.
You may trust him ; his ideas are not contracted
within the narrow limits of exemption from taxes,
but are extended upon the broad scale of total
emancipation. He is explicit and bold upon the
subject; and his hopes are as sanguine as my own,
of the triumph of liberty iu America.

His correspondence soon bears witness to the
hopelessness of negotiation, and the necessity of
firmness and resolution on the part of America.
He continued to reside in London, attending the
American debates in Parliament, visiting, and
now and then going to see Garriok, but without
improvement to his health. On the 16th of
March, 1775, he sailed for Boston. 'When not
more than three days at sea, he dictated to a
seaman a farewell latter to his friends at home,
anticipating that he should not live through the
voyage. In it he says : — ■

Foreseeing that there will be many inexplicable
circumstances in the way of my friends, to account
for many things relating to my conduct, I should
have been glad, if God had spared my life, to con-
verse with them once more. But this, his holy Pro-
vidence seems fully settled to deny. Some few
matters I have prevailed with a friend on board to
minute for their information.

My going to America at this time was very con-
siderably against my inclinations, especially as Boc-
tor Fothergill was of opinion that Bristol waters
would be of great advantage to me. But he did not
dissuade me from going to America, but advised it
very strongly in preference to my staying in Loudon,
or its environs.

The most weighty motive of all that determined
my conduct, was the extreme urgency of about fif-
teen or twenty most staunch friends to America, and
many of them the most learned and respectable cha-
racters in the king lorn, for my immediately pro-
ceeding to Boston. Their sentiments what ought to
be the conduct of Boston, and of the continent, at
this, and the approaching season, I hail heard very
often in the social circle; and in what things they
differed I perfectly knew. It appeared of high im-
portance that the sentiments of such persons should
be known in America. To commit their sentiments
to writing, was neither practicable nor prudent at
this time. To the bosom of a friend they could in-
trust what might be of great advantage to my coun-
try. To me that trust was committed, and I was,
immediately upon my arrival, to assemble certain
persons, to whom I was to communicate my trust,
and had God spared my life, it seems it would have
been of great service to my country. *

,* * * * ■* * *

* Ever since I have been out, almost

everything has been different from what I expected.
Instead of pleasant weather, the most inclement and
damp, which removes me entirely from the deck,
and when I was flattered with the hope of getting
into port six days ago, I am yet here, as distant
from it as when the encouragement was given me.
Had Providence been pleased that I should have
reached America six days ago, I should have been
able to converse with my friends. 1 am persuaded
that this voyage and passage are the instruments to
put au end to my being. His holy will be done !

He grew woaker and weaker, and on the
twenty-sixth of April, within sight of land, and
almost within hearing of the news of the battle of
Lexington, expired "in solitude, amidst suffer-
ing, without associate, and without witness; yet
breathing forth a dying wish for his country, de-
siring to live only to perform towards her a last
and signal service."* His remains were brought
into port in the ship at Gloucester, and the siege'
of Boston having dispersed his relatives and
friends, were buried there by kind but strange
hands. As. soon as the district was sufficiently
tranquil, they were removed by his aged father
to the burial-ground at Braintree. A monument
was raised over his resting-place after his widow
had been, in 1.798, placed beside him, with an in-
scription by John Quinoy Adams, closing with
these well-turned lines: —

STKANOEB,

Iu contemplating this monument, the frail tribute
Of filial gratitude, and affection,

Glows thy bold breast with patriotic flame?
Let his example point the paths of fame I
Or seeks thy heart, averse from public strife,
The milder graces of domestic life?
Her kindred virtues let thy soul revere,
And o'er the best of mothers drop a tear.

JEREMY BELKNAP.

I Tins eminent New England clergyman and his-

' torian was born June 4, 1744, in Boston, where

the family resided for three generations. His

habits in childhood showed the future antiquarian

and historian. At ten years of age he made neat

* Life by J. Quiacy. p. 348.

254

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

abstracts of the sermons at the Old South Church ;
and from his entrance at Harvard, at fifteen, kept,
through his life, series of interleaved annotated
almanacs, a favorite mode of diary, of the Eastern
clergyman, of which some curious specimens are
preserved. He had, too, his manuscript books,
Quotidiana Miscellanea, &c, for extracts from the
authors he read. The first entry on the first
page of these is significant of his tastes thus
early forming, from Eckard's Roman History: —
"there are required so many qualifications and
accomplishments in an historian, and so much
care and nioeness in writing an history, that some
have reckoned it one of the most difficult labors
human nature is capable of." He left Harvard
with the class of 1702, and became, like so many
others, a schoolmaster. After four years in this
employment, and when he had fully established
his resolution, he was ordained as a preacher.
He married Ruth Eliot, of Boston, and became
pastor of the church in Dover, New Hampshire,
in 1767, where he passed twenty years. His his-
torical tastes soon developed themselves ; but they
were somewhat interrupted by the openingscenes
of the Revolution, in which Belknap bore the
part of a good Whig, counselling the people by
his pen. He was chosen chaplain to the troops
of New Hampshire at Cambridge, but declined
the appointment. In 1787 he left Dover for the
charge of the Federal Street Church in Boston, a
position which he held till his death, caused sud-
denly by paralysis, June 20, 1798. He had him-
self in some lines of poetry, found among his
papers, invoked a speedy departure.

When faith and patience, hope and love,
Have made us meet for heaven above,
How blest the privilege to rise '
Snatched in a moment to the skies!
Unconscious, to resign our breath,
Nor taste the bitterness of death.
Such be my lot, Lord, if thou please,
To die in silence and at ease.
When thou dost know that I'm prepared,
O seize me quick to my reward.
But if thy wisdom sees it best
To turn thine ear from this request —
If sickness be the appointed way,
To waste this frame of human clay ;
If, "Worn with grief and racked with pain,
This earth must turn to earth again ;
Then let thine angels round me stand —
Support me by thy powerful hand;
Let not my faith or patience move,
Nor aught abate my hope or love ;
But brighter may my graces shine,
Till they're absorbed in light divine.

His distinct historical labors commenced with
his residence in New Hampshire, where he en-
gaged in the study and preparation of manu-
scripts, using great diligence in his pioneer work.
Before the Revolution, Belknap had studied his
subject in the steeple of the Old South Church,
among the books collected by his pastor, Mr.
Prince. In the preface to his first volume, Belk-
nap suggests a public repository for MSS., under
proper regulations. This first volume of his His-
■ tory of New Hampshire appeared at Philadelphia
in 1784, under the superintendence of Ebenezer
Hazard, the Postmaster-General, and compiler of
the State Papers. The second appeared at Bos-

ton in 1791, and the third in the same city, in the
following year. To assist him in the work, which
at the time of the publication of the last volume
had fallen short of the actual expenses, the Legis-
lature of New Hampshire granted him fifty
pounds. Its merits at the present day would
secure it a better reception. The first volume
comprehends the events of one complete century,
from the discovery of the river Pascataqua; the
second, seventy-five years, from 1715; the third
is occupied with a geographical description of the
state ; with sketches of its natural history, pro-
ductions, improvements, and present state of
society and manners, laws and government.

The candor and agreeable style of this work
are no less remarkable than its historical tact
and fidelity. It has long ranked at the head of
the local state histories of the country. The
author had everything to acquire and arrange.
He overcame these difficulties, and seized his sub-
ject with the grasp of an earnest thinker and ac-
complished writer. The interesting chapters in
the third volume on physical geography and
natural history show that he took no narrow view
of the relations of his subject.

On the completion of this work, an editor of a
newspaper in Keene, N.H., made the modest an-
nouncement to his readers that "to render his
paper as useful and entertaining as possible, ho
proposed to commence upon the Rev. Mr. Belk-
nap's late History of New Hampshire, and con-
tinue a small part of the same weekly. As every
member of the community is equally interested in
this much-approved History, the editor flatters
himself that the above attempt to please will
meet with the approbation of his generous patrons.
This information is given to accommodate those
who have a desire of becoming subscribers for the
Cheshire Advertiser, that they may apply in
season, and not be disappointed of the first part
of this valuable History." To which cool propo-
sition, when the author was informed of it by his
friend, Isaiah Thomas, he replied : " As I am par-
ticularly interested in the success of that literary
adventure, I beg you would set me down as a
subscriber for the Cheshire Advertiser for one
year, to commence from the first portion of the
said History which you may reprint, and send the
papers to me regularly by the post. If you are
desirous of reprinting the certificate from the
Clerk of the Federal Court, which secures the
copyright of the said History to me and my heirs,
agreeably to the laws of the United States, be so
good as to let me know it, and I will seud you an
authenticated copy."

In 1790, Belknap projected the Massachusetts
Historical Society, which became, long since an
established precedent for similar organizations
throughout the country. At the request of this
body he delivered, Oct. 23, 1792, a centennial
Discourse intended to commemorate the Discovery
of America by Christopher Columbus, on the
completion of the third century since that event.
Four dissertations are added on points raised by
the address. The whole is well filled with in-
genious philosophical suggestions.

In the same year with this address appeared in
successive numbers of the Columbian Magazine,
a production entitled The Foresters, an. American
tale, being a sequel to the history of John Bull'

JEREMY BELKNAP.

255

the Clothier, in a series of letters to a friend.
This was written by Dr. Belknap. The papers
were collected in a volume, and printed again
with two additional letters, continuing the story,
in 1796.

'£su-e-^i^-'

The Foresters is an apologue, written after the
manner of Arbuthnot's John Bull, in which the
leading states and interests of the American
continent are represented under catch-words of
easy interpretation. The Foresters themselves
are the people of the United States; Onontio is
Canada; Robert Lumber, New Hampshire; John
Codline, Massachusetts; Peter Bull-Frog, New
York ; Walter Pipeweed, Virginia ; his grand-
soil, General Washington ; Charles Indigo, South
Carolina ; Ethan Greenwood, Vermont. The
several settlements of the country are related in
neatly turned phrase, together with the incidents
of the Revolution and the circumstances out of
which it arose, followed by a graphic picture of
the new constitution, and the attempt of Genet at
French interference. There is much sly humor
in this book, hit off in a neat quiet style.*

In 1793 he published anonymously a Life of
Watts, in connexion with Kippis's Life of Dod-
dridge. In the conclusion of this life he states
what he interpreted as the views of Watts in
relation to the Trinity. This portion has been
added by his grand-daughter to the judicious
memoir she has published of Belknap.f

* This production was pleasantly revived on a late occasion
bv the poet Bryant, at the semi-centennial celebration of the
New York Historical Society. In a speech at the dinner at
the Astor House, Nov. 20, 1854, he spoke of the Foresters,
l-a work which sought to embellish our history with the
charms of wit and humor," in connexion witii the American
Biography, which he recollected as amongst his earliest read-
ing and assigned to Belknap " the high merit of being the lirst
to make American history attractive." "Sixty-two years
ago" Mr. Bryant continued, "he published the Foresters,
long a favorite at New England firesides."

+ Life of Jeremy Belknap, D.D., the Historian of New

In 1794 Belknap published the first volume of
a series of American biographical sketches — An
Historical account of those persons who have been
distinguished in America as Adventurer's, States-
men, Philosopihers, Divines, Warriors, Authors,
and other remarkable characters, comprehending
a recital of the events connected with their lives
and actions.

The second volume of the Biographies was
completed and in press at the time of the
author's death.

The next year he issued a Collection of Psalms
and Hymns, which was in use for a while with
the New England Congregational churches.
Several of these were written by himself.

In 1795 appeared Dr. Belknap's Dissertations
on the Character, Death, and Resurrection of
Jesus Christ, and the Evidence of his Gospel,
with Remarks on some sentiments advanced in a
book entitled " The Age of Reason.'1''

As an anecdote of Dr. Belknap's historical ac-
curacy, it may be mentioned, that the year be-
fore his death he sailed from New Bedford to
ascertain the island discovered by Gosnold in
1G02, which he had stated incorrectly in the
first volume of his Biographies. Finding the
exact locality on the island of Cuttyhunk, he re-
wrote the life for the second volume, and intro-
duced a description of the spot.

THE OLD CONFEDERATION — FROM TITE FORESTERS.

When the foresters had broken their connexion
with Bull, it was uncertain what connexions they
might form abroad, but it was judged expedient for
them to be united among themselves, that no one
family should connect itself in trade with any mer-
chant, or factor, without the consent of the others.
In short, it became necessary for them to enter into
a partnership for their mutual interest and conve-
nience. To do this was a nice point, and required
much delicacy. It was to them a new subject, and
they had an untrodden path before them. After
much consultation and inquiry, their ingenuity sug-
gested to them the idea of an original social compact.
" Why should we (said they) look abroad for prece-
dents, when we have enough among ourselves ?
See the beavers in our own brooks and meadows,
how they work in complete partnership, each family
has its own cell, and a number of cells arc placed in
one pond. They carry on their operations with
peace and unanimity, without even the appearance
of a master. Here is a perfect republic, a complete
equality, a striking example of order without subor-
dination, of liberty without jealousy, of industry
without coercion, of economy without parsimony,
of sagacity without overbearing influence. Every
one knows his own business and does it, their labour
goes on with regularity and decency; their united
eii'orts serve the common cause, and the interest of
every one is involved in that of the whole. Let us
go and do likewise." The hint took, and a plan of
confederation, as it was called, was drawn up on
principles of the purest equality; each family re-
taining the entire control of its own domestic con-
cerns, without any interference of the others, and
agreeing to contribute voluntarily its proportion of
labour and money to support the common interest.

This was, in theory, a very pretty device, exactly
suited to a set of people who thought themselves

Hampshire, with selections from his correspondence and other
1 writings. Collected and arranged by his grand-daughter.
Harper & Brothers. 1S47.

256

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

completely virtuous. But as it- often happens that
great ingenuity exists without much judgment or
policy, so it proved here. These foresters did not
consider that their intellects were not, like those of
the beavers, confined to a few particular objects;
that they were not, like the beavers, void of passions
and prejudices, void of ambition, jealousy, avarice,
and self-interest. With all the infirmities of hu-
manity, they were expecting to establish a commu-
nity on a plan similar to that in which no such
deformities can possibly find admittance.

Though for a while, and during the period of the
law-suit, when common danger impelled . them to
keep themselves close together, this plan answered
the end. better tnan none: yet in fact the notion of
independence 'had so intoxicated their minds, that
having cast off their dependence on Mr. Bull, they
thought themselves independent of all the world
beside. When they had got entirely clear of the
controversy with him, they were in the condition of
a young heir just come of age, who feels proud, of
his freedom, and thinks he has a right to act without
control. Each family felt its own importance, and
expected a degree of respect from the others, in pro-
portion to its numbers, its property, its exertions, its
antiquity, and other trifling considerations, which
ought never to have had any place in a partnership
of complete equality; and in consequence of this
intoxicating idea of independence, each family
claimed the right of giving or withholding its con-
sent to what was proposed by any or all of the
others.

In the club room, among a number of ingenious
devices, there was a clock, of a most curious and in-
tricate construction, by which all the common con-
cerns of the partnership were to be regulated. It
had one bell, on which thirteen distinct hummers
struck the hours. Each hammer was moved by in-
dependent wheels and weights, each set of wheels
and weights was inclosed in a separate ease, the key
of which was kept, not as it ought to have been, by
the person who represented the family at club, but
in each mansion house ; and every family claimed a
right either to keep the key at home or send it to
club, when and by whom they pleased. Kow as
this clock, like all other automatons, needed fre-
quently to be wound up, to be oiled and cleaned, a
very nice and particular adjustment of circum-
stances was necessary to preserve the regularity of
its motions, and make the hammers perform their
functions with propriety. Sometimes one or two
of the hammers would be out of order, ami when it
came to the turn of one to strike it would be silent;
then there must be a running or sending home for
the key, and the houses being at a considerable dis-
tance, much time was spent in waiting Sometimes
the messenger arrived at an unseasonable hour, when
the family was asleep, or abroad in the fields, and
it would take up a considerable time to collect them,
and lay the case before them, that they might de-
liberate and determine whether the key should be
sent or not ; and before this could be done, the clock
would get more out of order. By this means, the
club was frequently perplexed; they knew neither
the hour of the day, nor the day of the month ;
they could not date their letters, nor adjust their
books, nor do business with any regularity.

Besides this, there was another inconvenience.
For though they had a strong-box, yet it was filled
with nothing but bills of parcels, and accounts pre-
sented for payment, contracts of loans, and inden-
tures for services. No money could be had from
any of the families, but by their own voluntary
consent; and to gain this consent there was great
difficulty. Some had advanced what they supposed

to be more than their proportion ; others had paid
less. The former would give no more, till the latter
had made up their quotas, and there was no autho-
rity which could call any one to account, or make
him do his duty. Their whole estates were morl^
gaged for the money which they had borrowed of
Mr. Lewis and Mr. Frog; and yet they could carry
on no business in partnership. In fact they had
formed such an unheard of kind of partnership,
that though they could run themselves in debt, yet
they could' not oblige one another to raise any money
to 'discharge their debts.

Each family, however, carried on a separate trade,
and the5T contrived to undersell each other, both at
home and at market. Each family also had a sepa-
rate debt, whichsome were providing means to dis-
charge, and others neglected. In one or two of the
families they went to loggerheads among themselves.
John Codlme's family was, for several days, a scene
of confusion and disorder; nothing was seen or
heard, but cursing and calling names, kicking shins
aud pulling noses. John at first tried to silence
them by gentle means, but finding these ineffectual,
he at length drew his hanger, and swore he would
cut off the ears of the first that should dare to make
any more noise. This threatening drove two or
three turbulent fellows out of doors, after which the
house was tolerably quiet. Something of the same
kind happened in Robert Lumber's family, but he
made so good a use of his fist as quelled the disturb-
ance at once.

In the famity of Roger Carrier there seemed to
be a predominant lurch for knavery, for lie publicly
advertised that he was ready to pay his debts by
notes of hand, subject to a discount,-the amount of
which was indefinite, because continually increasing;
and that whoever did not take his pay, when thus
offered, might go without. The other families weie
alarmed at his conduct ; but had no power to oblige
him to deal honestly, and he carried his roguery so
far as to bid them all defiance.

In this state of debility and distraction, it became
necessary to consult on some measures for a better
plan of union. They began to be convinced that
they were not beavers, nor capable of subsisting in
such a state of society as had been' adopted from
them. Something more energetic was wanted to
compel the lazy, to cheek the knavish, to direct the
industrious, and to keep the honest from being im-
posed upon. It had been often in contemplation to
amend the mode of partnership; but now the disor-
ders in some of the families became so alarming,
that though they had been quelled for the present,
it was uncertain whether they would not break out
again, especially as one whole family seemed deter-
mined openly to patronize roguery. These conside-
rations served to hasten the change which had been
contemplated. It was accordingly moved in the
club, that each family should appoint one or more
persons to meet together and consult upon some al-
terations and improvements in the partnership.

TUF. SEW CONSTITUTION.

The professed design of the meeting was to reform
and amend the plan ; but in fact when they came to
examine it, they found themselves obliged to pass
the same sentence on it that was once delivered con-
cerning the famous poet Alexander Pope, whose
usual ejaculation was God mend me ! " Mend you,"
said a hackney coachman (looking with contempt on
his dwarfish form and hump back), " it would not be
half so much trouble to make a new one."

A newonewas accordingly entered upon, and the
fundamental principle of it was, not to suppose men
as good as they ought to be, but to take them as

JEREMY BELKNAP.

257

tliey are. "Tt is true," said tliey, " that all men are
naturally tree and equal ; it is a very good idea,
and ought to be understood in every contract and
partnership -which can be formed ; it may serve as
a cheek upon ambition and other human passions,
and put people in mind that they may some time or
other be called to account by their equals. But it
is as true that this equality is destroyed by a thou-
sand causes which exist in nature and in society.
It is true that all beasts, birds, and fishes are natu-
rally free and equal in some respects, but yet we
find them unequal in other respects, and one be-
comes the prey of another. There is, and always
will be, a superiority and an inferiority, in spite of
all the systems of metaphysics that ever existed.
How can you prevent one man from being stronger,
or wiser, or richer than another? and will not the
strong overcome the weak? will not the cunning
circumvent the foolish ? and will not the borrower
become servant to the lender ? Is not this noble,
free and independent creature man, necessarily sub-
ject to lords of his own species in every stage of his
existence? When a child, is he not under the com-
mand of his parents? Send him to school, place
him out as an apprentice, put him on board a ship,
enrol him in a company of militia, must he not be
subject to a master? Place him in any kind of so-
ciety whatever, and he lias wants to be supplied,
and passions to be subdued; his active powers need
to be directed, and his extravagances to be con-
trolled, and if he will not do it himself, somebody
must do it for him. Self-government is indeed the
most perfect form of government in the world ; but
if men will not govern themselves, they must have
some governors appointed over them, who will keep
them in order, and make them do their duty. Now
if there is in fact such an inequality existing among
us, why should we act as if no such thing existed?
We have tried the braver scheme of partnership long
enough, and find it will not do. Let us then adopt
the practice of another kind of industrious animals
which we have among us — Let us imitate the bees,
who are governed by one supreme head, and, under
that direction, conduct their whole economy with
perfect order and regularity."

)n this principle tliey drew up an entire new
plan, in which there was one chief steward, who
was to manage their united interest, and be respon-
sible to the whole for his conduct. He was to have
a kind of council to advise and direct him, and seve-
ral inferior officers to assist him, as there might be
• o.'cas;on; and a certain contribution was to be
levied ou the trade, or on the estates of the whole,
which was to make a common stock for the support
of the common interest, and they were to erect a
tribunal among themselves, which should decide and
determine all differences. If nine of the families
should agree to this plan, it was to take place ; and
Ih ■ othcis might or might not adopt it ; but if any
0.1C should finally refuse, or if any should adopt it
and afterward fill from it, he was to be looked upon
as an outcast, and no person was to have any con-
nexion with him.

The meeting having continued a long time, every-
body became extremely anxious to know what they
were about ; the doors were kept shut, and no per-
son whatever was let into the secret till the whole
was completed. A copy was then sent to each
family, for them to consider at their leisure.

Though curiosity was now gratified, yet anxiety
was not relaxed. The new plan of partnership
went by the name of the fiddle ; those who were in
favour of it called themselves fiddlers, and those
who opposed it were styled antifiddlers. The former
said it was the best plan that human wisdom had

VOL. I.— IT

ever contrived. The latter imagined it "pregnant
with mischief." The former compared it to a strong
fence about a rich field of wheat The latter com-
pared it to the whale that swallowed up Jonah.

In each family a consultation was held on the
question, Whether it should be adopted or not? and
liberty was given for every one to speak his mind
with the utmost freedom. The objections, answers,
replies, rejoinders, and rebutters, which were pre*
duced on this occasion, would make a curious collec-
tion, and form an important page in the history of
man. The fiddlers were extremely fond of having
it examined, because they said it was like a rich
piece of plate, which the more it be rubbed shines
the brighter. The antifiddlers said it was like a
worm-eaten bottom of a ship, the defects of which
would more evidently appear, the more it was
ripped to pieces; they were therefore for rejecting
it at once, without any examination at all.

When they were urged to point out its defects,
they would say, " It is dangerous to put so much
power into the hands of any man, or set of men,
lest they should abuse it. Our liberty and property
will be safe whilst we keep them ourselves, but
when we have onee parted with them, we may never
be able to get them back again."

If the plan was compared to a house, then the
objection would be made against building it too high,
lest the wind should blow it down. How shall we
guard it against fire? how shall we secure it against
robbers? and how shall we keep out rats and mice?

If it was likened to a ship, then it would be asked,
how shall we guard it against leaking ? how shall
we prevent it from running on the rocks and quick-
sands?

Sometimes it would be compared to a clock, then
the question was, how shall we secure the pendulum,
the wheels and the balance from rust? who shall
keep the key, and who shall we trust to wind it up?

Sometimes it was represented by a purse, and
then it was said to be dangerous to let any one hold
the strings. Money is a tempting object, and the
best men are liable to be corrupted.

In short, the whole of the arguments against it
might be summed up in one word — jealousy ;
which is well known to be the highest degree of re-
publican virtue.

To show the futility of these arguments, it was
observed by the opposite party, that it was impossi-
ble to put it into any man's power to do you good,
without at the same time putting it into his power
to do you hurt. If you trust a barber to shave
your beard, you put it into his power to cut your
throat. If j'ou trust a baker to make your bread,
or a cook to dress your meat, you put it into the
power of each to poison you ; nay, if you venture
to lie in the same bed with your wife, you put it
into her power to choak you when you are asleep.
Shall we therefore let our beards grow till they are
long enough to put into our pockets, because we are
afraid of the barber? shall we starve ourselves be-
cause the baker and the cook map poison us? and
snail we be afraid to go to bed with our wives?
Fie, fie, gentlemen, do not indulge such whims: Be
careful in the choice of your barbel's, your bakers,
your cooks, and your wives ; pay them well, and
treat them well, and make it their interest, to treat
you well, and you need not fear them.

After much debate and discussion, some of the
families adopted it without exception, but in others,
the opposition was so strong that it could not be
made to pass, but by the help of certain amendments,
which were proposed; and of these amendments
every family which thought proper to make any,
made as many as they pleased. The new plan with.

258

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

its appendage of amendments, cut such a grotesque
figure, that a certain wng in one of the families, like
Jotham, the son of Gideon, ridiculed it in the fol-
lowing fable:

:' A certain man hired a taylor to make him a pair
of small clothes ; the taylor measured him and made
the garment. When he had brought it home, the
man turned and twisted and viewed it on all sides ;
it is too small here, said he, and wants to be let out;
it is too big hero, and wants to be taken in ; I am
afraid there will be a hole here, and you must put
on a patch ; this button is not strong enough, you
must set on another. He was ;^oing on in this man-
ner, when his wife overhearing him, said, have you
put on the small clothes, my dear ? No, 6aid he.
How then, replied she, can you possibly tell whether
they will fit you or not ? If I had made such objec-
tions to a gown or a pair of stays before I had put
them on, how would you have laughed at my female
wisdom ? The man took his wife's advice, and
3aved the taylor a deal of trouble."

In like manner the new plan of partnership was
tried on, and was found to fit very well. The
amendments were thrown by, for future considera-
tion ; some of them have been since adopted, but
\hey are so few and so trifling, as to make no essen-
tial difference.

ELIJAH FITCH.

Elijah Pitch was born in 1745. He was edu-
cated at Yale, and received an honorary degree
of A.M., from Harvard, in 1770. He became a
clergyman at Hopkinton, Massachusetts, where
he died, as we learn from a notice accompanying
his poems, " on the sixteenth of December, 1788,
in the forty-third year of his age, and seventeenth
of his ministry." He wrote The Beauties of
Feliijion, a poem addressed to youth, in five
books, and a short poem entitled The Choice,
which were published at Providence in 1789.

The objects of the principal poem are concisely
stated in the "Advertisement of the Author."
" The design of these Essays is to paint religion in
her native beauties. They are principally in-
tended for youth, to give them just views of re-
ligion, and to persuade them to love and practise
it. The subject required me to stud}- perspicuity
more than elegance, and truth more than poetical
embellishments."

In the first three books the desires of the soul,
the sufficiency of the Gospel to supply its long-
ing, the goodness of God in the material creation,
and the need of religion to hallow it to our use,
the happiness of a holy life, the evils produced
by sin, especially war, are enforced, with oc-
casional narrative episodes. Book IV. contains
the soliloquy of an infidel, who, " after a debauch,
awakes with a resolution to pursue nothing but
the pleasures of the world." He is unable to
escape the rebukes of conscience, and expires in
misery. An animated description then follows
of the beauty and variety of nature, and the
sufficiency of harmless pleasures to secure hap-
piness. In the last book the "soliloquy of a
believer" is given, in which the happiness of a
holy life of devout meditation and participation
in the ordinances of public worship is dwelt upon.

THE TRUE CHRISTIAN.

See now the man of wond'rous birth,
Lorn from above, but dwells on earth,
Whose heart religion fills:

By wisdom guided in his way,
On wings of faith he mounts to-day
Towards everlasting hills.

Lord of himself, his noble mind,
From fetters free and unconfined,

A flight sublime maintains ;
But little his concern to know,
"What's done by mortals here below,

Who drag about their chains.

Pleased with himself and satisfied,
While streams of pleasure gently glide

From fountain-head on high;
Possesses all beneath the sun,
And smiles to see how mortals run,

To catch those things which fly.

Pleased with the present, he enjoys
Himself at ease, nor wants those toys

Which little minds call great ;
Crowns, riches, honours, and such things,
Which please the vulgar, yea and kings,

He treads beneath his feet.

In love with that fair Goddess bright,
Who sits enthroned in realms of light,

No meaner flame can burn;
'Tis she that leads to Jesus' arms,
And gives possession of bis charms;

Christ and religion's one.

Love this fair Goddess ; and serene

She'll make you pass thro' life's dark scene,

And gild your passing day :
Grace your last moments with her light,
Then waft your snul to regions bright,

To join angelie lays.

THE CHOICE.

Would Heaven's high sov'reign condescend

To crown my wish, and let me spend

The days on earth he's pleased to give,

In that fair place I'd choose to live,

Where upon a rising ground,

A little distance from the town,

Far beyond the noisy rout

Of carts and waggons driv'n about.

Or the more confounded din

Of men contending for a pin :

Where Aurora spreads her light

First in the morn, and last at night ;

Where sweet Zephyr's breath is pure,

Which all diseases helps to cure,

Fresh at ev'ry hour should come,

Wafting spices, myrrh, and gum ;

And at eve more fragrant grows,

Like the sweet-briar and the rose.

A placid stream with gentle tide,

Meand'ring thro' a mead, should glide,

Enamel'd o'er with every hue,

Which on the earth yet ever grew,

And lofty pine and oak in rows,

And the elm with careless boughs,

On each side should raise their head,

Shading fishes in their bed.

To the east this stream should run,

As emulous to meet the sun,

Whose beams, reflected from that glass.

Make double morn my life compass;

While pleasure-boats, with silken sails,

And streamers gay, delight the vales.

Men of all professions there

Should issue forth to take the air;

Two or three in ev'ry line,

Should be invited to my wine:

Such whose tempers were serene,

And had with books familiar been.

LINDLEY MURRAY.

259

A garden interspersed with trees,
Waving to the gentle breeze,
Laden with all kinds of fruit
Which the climate e'er could suit:
Peaches, apples, plums and chenis,
Pears and apricots, with berries,
Creeping latent through the grass
All other pleasure should surpass,
Surprising oft the eye with joy,
And to the grateful touch not coy.
A purling rill, with winding course,
Now gentle, and then sounding hoarse,
Thro' arbours and by pleasant walks,
Where flowers should grow on all their stalks,
The pink, and rose, and daffodil,
Lady's delight, which crowns the hill,
Narcissus fair, with tulip gay,
Which finely dress themselves in May.
With all the summer's shining train,
Which breathe more fragrant for the rain,
And afford a sweet repast
For busy bees which love their taste;
There humming-birds, with plumage gay,
Shining bright as flnw'rs in May,
Around my head should sprightly play ;
On nimble wings they seem to dance,
Suspended still without advance,
And then away as swift as light,
So sudden that they 'scape the sight ;
Their plumes of scarlet, gold and green,
A lively hue as e'er was seen ;
These o'er my flow'rs should rove at plensir ',
Partake the joy, not spoil the treasure,
But with their little tube-like bill
From op'ning blossoms drink their fill:
And on farina fine they feed,
Which fully satisfies their need.

Frequent here would I resort,
To enjoy the blissful sport,
And to view with pleasing eye
All that blooms beneath the sky;
See where the primrose dips her bill
Amo.ig the dew-drops on the hill,
Anil where the lily hangs her head
O'er the violet's purple bed ;
All bestrew'd with green and gold,
Where pretty birds sweet dalliance hoM.
There the lark his mate invites
To pass with him the summer nights,
And early in the morn awake.
Together the first dawn partake,
And on their silver pinions rise,
And sing their mattms to the skies ;
With sweetest notes theyT fill the air,
And call forth shepherds to their care.
I'd hear the bleating flocks of sheep,
When the dawn begins to peep,
And from my couch would rise alert,
To join aird share the sweet concert;
Hear the dulcet harmony
Warble sweet from ev'ry tree,
From the meads and from the vales,
On the hills and in the dales;
Various notes of flocks and herds,
Mingling with the singing birds,
Should echo fast from hill to hill,
Till ev'ry part of air they fill.

I'd have a little grove fast by,
There to repair in milder sky •
My morn and ev'uing walk should be,
To view the birds perch'd on the tree,
Their shiny glossy plumes would fill
My ravish'd eye with pleasure still.

There the linnet, thrush, and quail,
There the mock-bird, feme and male,
There the sparrow, with robin-hood,
And ev'ry bird that loves the wood,
Should live at ease, secure from fear,
No cruel fowler should come near;
The whip-poor-will should cheer the night
With her sweet notes, which sleep invite;
About my farm tame fowls should rove,
Geese and turkeys, ducks and dove;
Nor would I want the guinea-hen,
Which imitates the chatt'ring wren ;
And the proud cock, who struts and crows
Defiance to his neighb'ring foes.
Martins and swallows, chatt'ring sweet,
In friendship round my house should meet;
The peacock, with majestic mien,
And richest plumes, should oft be seen,
Spreading his waving glories high,
With dazzling lustre charm the eye.

Nor would I want those joys refin'd,
With holy wedlock which are join'd;
For Hymen's mystic knot unites
Sublimest joys and sweet delights.

With one fair iu love I'd join,
Whose pleasing words should cheer like wine;
Whose soul to mine so near was grown,
No striking difference could be known,
But blended in sweet bands of love,
In concert both should always move,
And dimpled smiles, with mutual glance,
Should joys reciprocal advance.

To crown the whole, and give a relish

To all the pleasures life embellish,

On holy days I would not lose

The pleasure which from worship flows;

And near my house should be the seat

Where those who love to praise should meet,

To tread the courts of God most high,

And hear his message from the sky,

From one who knows how to dispense

The joyful truths sent down from thence,

And join with those whose souls were graced

With love, and truth, and righteousness;

To pray and praise, adore and sing

Loud anthems to th' eternal King ;

With joy myr heart should more dilate,

Than all the favours of the great.

But give me such a pleasing spot,

And I'll not envy kings their court.

LINDLEY MITERAY.
The reader who takes up the autobiography of
Lindley Murray with no other previous prepara-
tion than his early schoolboy recollections of the
grammar, will have a sensation as agreeable as mi-
expected. It is likemeeting the schoolmaster after
we have grown up, and finding him a pleasant
courteous gentleman instead of the monster we
had, so often vowed to thrash on arriving at the
vigor of manhood prerequisite for the achieve-
ment.

Lindley Murray made a dolorous entrance into
life : for six months after his birth, in 1745, he
was, says the editor of his autobiography, "al-
most perpetually crying." After that time he
grew healthier. In 1753, he removed with his
parents from Swetara, near Lancaster, Pa., to the
city of New York. After receiving the rudiments
of an English education he was placed in the
counting-house of his father, a prosperous mer-
chant, who was naturally desirous that his son

260

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

^n

should step into the opening he had provided for
him. This, however, did not suit the son's wishes,
which were bent upon the law. He ascribes his
dislike to his father's calling to the strictness of
the rule to which that parent subjected him, a
strictness which led to an outbreak on the son's
part, the only ripple in the placid stream of his
existence.

I have sometimes hesitated, respecting the pro-
priety of communicating this little piece of my his-
tory. But as it is intimately connected with events
of this period, and contains some traits of disposition
and character in early life, I have at length conclud-
ed to relinquish my scruples on this subject. The
following is the occurrence to which I allude.

Though my father, as the events already mention-
ed demonstrate, had an earnest desire to promote
my interest and happiness, yet lie appeared to me,
in some respects, and on some occasions, rather too
rigorous. Among other regulations, lie had, with
true parental prudence, given me general directions
not to leave the house, in an evening, without pre-
viously obtaining his approbation. I believe that
his permission was generally and readily procured.
But a particular instance occurred, in which, on ac-
count of his absence, I could not apply to him. I
was invited by an uncle to spend the evening with
him; and trusting to this circumstance, and to the
respectability of my company, I ventured to break
the letter, though I thought not the spirit, of the in-
junction which had been laid upon me. The next
morning, I was taken by my father into a private
apartment, and remonstrated with for my disobedi-
ence. In vain were my apologies. Nothing that I
could offer, was considered as an extenuation of mv
having broken a plain ai:d positive command. In
short, I received a very severe chastisement; and
was threatened with a repetition of it, for every
similar offence. Being a lad of some spirit, I felt
very indignant at such treatment, under circum-
stances which, as I conceived, admitted of so much
alleviation. I could not bear it ; 1 resolved to leave
my father's house, and seek a distant country, what
I conceived to be an asylum, or a better fortune.
Young and ardent, I did not want confidence in my
own powers: and I presumed that, with health and

strength which I possessed in a superior degree, I
| could support myself, and make my way happily
■ through life. 1 meditated on my plan ; and came to
the resolution of taking my books and all my pro-
perty with me, to a town in the interior of the coun-
try, where 1 had understood there was an excellent
seminary, kept by a man of distinguished talents and
learning. Here I purposed to remain, till I had
learned the French language, which I thought would
be of great use to me ; and till I had acquired as
much other improvement as my funds would admit
With this stock of knowledge, I presumed that I
should set out in life under much greater advantages
than I should possess by entering immediately into
business, with my small portion of property, and great
inexperience. I was then about fourteen years of age.
My views being thus arranged, I procured a new suit
of clothes, entirely different from those which I had
been accustomed to wear, packed up my little all
and left the city, without exciting any suspicion of
my design, till it was too late to prevent its accom-
plishment.

In a short time 1 arrived at the place of destina-
tion. I settled myself immediately as a boarder in
the seminary, and commenced my studies. The
prospect which I entertained was so luminous and
cheering, that, on the whole, I did not regret the
part I had acted. Past recollections and future
hopes combined to animate me. The chief uneasi-
ness which I felt in my present situation, must have
arisen from the reflection of having lost the society
and attentions of a most affectionate mother, and of
having occasioned sorrow to her feeling mind. But
as I had passed the Rubicon, and believed I could
not be comfortable at home, I contented myself with
the thought, that the pursuit of the objects before
me was better calculated than any other, to produce
my happiness. In this quiet retreat, I had as much
enjoyment as my circumstances were adapted to
convey. The pleasure of study, and the glow of a
fond imagination, brightened the scenes around me.
And the consciousness of a state of freedom and in-
dependence undoubtedly contributed to augment
my gratifications, and to animate my youthful heart.
But my continuance in this delightful situation was
not of long duration. Circumstances of an appa-
rently trivial nature concurred to overturn the vi-
sionary fabric I had formed, and to bring me again
to the paternal roof.

I had a particular friend, a youth about my own
age, who resided at Philadelphia. I wished to pay
him a short visit, and then resume my studies. We
met according to appointment, at an inn on the road.
1 enjoyed his society, and communicated to him my
situation and views. But before I returned to my
retreat an occurrence took place which occasioned me
to go to Philadelphia. When I was about to leave
that city, as I passed through one of the streets,
I met a gentleman who hnd some time before dined
at my father's house. He expressed great plea-
sure on seeing me; and inquired wdicn I expected
to leave the city. I told him I was then on the
point of setting off. He thought the occasion very
fortunate for him. He had just been with a letter to
the post-office ; but found that he was too late. The
letter, he said, was of importance ; and he begged
that I would deliver it with my own hand, and as
as soon as I arrived at New-Y'ork, to the person for
whom it was directed. Surprised by the request,
and unwilling to state to him my situation, I en-
gaged to take good care of the letter.

My new residence was at Burlington, about twen-
ty miles from Philadelphia. I travelled towards it
rather pensive, and uncertain what plan to adopt
respecting the letter. I believe that I sometimes

LINDLEY MURRAY.

2G1

thought of putting it into tlie post-office; sometimes, I
of hiring a person to deliver it. But the confidence j
which had been reposed in me; the importance of j
the trust; and my tacit engagement to deliver it
personally ; operated so powerfully on my mind,
that after 1 had rode a few miles, I determined,
Whatever risk and expense I might incur, to hire a
carriage for the purpose, to go to Mew York as
speedily as possible, deliver the letter, and return
immediately. My design, so far as it respected the j
charge of the letter, was completely accomplished.
I delivered it, according to the direction, and my j
own engagement. I was, however, obliged to re-
main in New York that night, as the packet boat, in j
which [ had crossed the bay, could not sail till next
morning. This was a mortifying circumstance, as I
wished to return very expeditiously. The delay
was, however, unavoidable. I put up at an inn,
near the wharf from which the packet was to sail in
the morning, and waited for that period with some
anxiety.

I thought I had conducted my business with so
much caution, that no one acquainted with me had
known of my being in the city. I had, however,
been noticed by some person who knew me; ami, in
the evening, to my great surprise, my uncle, whom
1 have mentioned before, paid me a visit. He treat-
ed me affectionately, and with much prudent atten-
tion: and, after some time, strenuously urged me to
go with him to my father's house; but I firmly re-
fused to comply with his request. At length he told
me, that my mother was greatly distressed on ac-
count of my absence; and that [ should be unkind
and undutiful, if 1 did not see her. This made a
strong impression upon me. I resolved, therefore,
to spend a short time with her, and then return to :
my lodgings. The meeting which 1 had with my
dear and tender parent was truly affecting to me.
Every thing that passed, evinced the great affection
she had for me, and the sorrow into which my de-
parture from home had plunged her. After 1 had
been some time in the house, my father unexpected-
ly came in : and my embarrassment, under these cir-
cumstances, may easily be conceived. It was, how-
ever, instantly removed, by his approaching me in
the most affectionate manner. He saluted me very |
tenderly; and expressed great satisfaction on seeing
me again. Every degree of resentment was imme-
diately dissipated. I felt myself happy, in pereeiv- j
ing the pleasure which my society could afford to
persons so intimately connected with me, and to !
whom I was so much indebted. We spent the even-
ing together in love and harmony : and I abandoned
entirely, without a moment's hesitation, the idea of
leaving a house and family, which were now dearer
to me than ever.

He resumed his studies under the charge of a
private tutor, and his father at last granted him
permission to pursue the profession of his choice.
He was a fellow student with John Jay ; was ad-
mitted and commenced practice with good suc-
cess, which continued until the commencement of
the American Revolution, when finding nothing
to do in the courts, and wishing to recruit his
health, he retired with his wife (he had become
a married man some years hefore) to lslip, Long
Island. Here he remained four years, and then
becoming tired of country sports and comparative
inaction, returned to the city and entered into
mercantile business with such success, that at the
close of the war he found himself possessed of a
handsome property. He retired from business to
a beautiful country-scat, Hellevue, then a few

miles from the city, but long since included in its
limits, where he resided for three years. He was
then forced to leave this pleasant home in quest
of health. After passing some time with the Mo-
ravians at Bethlehem, he sailed to England by the
advice of his physicians, in order to avoid the
rigors of a New York winter. His sojourn was
not designed to be extended beyond a year; but,
though he earnestly desired to return to his na-
tive country, the state of his health would not
permit the change, and he passed the remainder
of his long life in England, at a small country-seat
in the vicinity of York. The disease with which
he was afflicted was a weakness in the lower
limbs, which precluded him from walking, and
after a time from any exercise whatever. His
Christian fortitude and cheerfulness, however,
enabled him to hear up against this calamity:
and just at the time when his life seemed about to
become useless to himself, it began to be pre-emi-
nently useful to others. With a well educated and
active mind, he naturally turned to literature as a
pursuit, and he has recorded the beneficial results
to his health which this course produced.

In the course of my literary labours, I found that
the mental exercise which accompanied them, was
not a little beneficial to my health. The motives
which excited me to write, and the objects which I
hoped to accomplish, were of a nature calculated to
cheer the mind, and to give the animal spirits a
salutary impulse. I am persuaded, that if I had
suffered my time to pass away, with little or no em-
ployment, my health would have been still more im-
paired, my spirits depressed, and perhaps my life
considerably shortened. I have therefore reason to
deem it a happiness, and a source of gratitude to Di-
vine Providence, that I was enabled, undermy bodily
weakness and confinement, to turn my attention to
the subjects which have, for so many years, afforded
me abundant occupation. I think it is incumbent
upon us, whatever may be our privations, to cast
our eyes around, and endeavour to discover, whe-
ther there are not some means yet left us, of doing
good to ourselves and to others; that our lights may,
in some degree, shine in every situation, and, if pos-
sible, be extinguished only with our lives. The
quantum of good which, under such circumstances,
we do, ought not to disturb or affect us. If we per-
form what we are able to perform, how little soever
it may be. it is enough ; it will be acceptable in the
sii^lit of Him, who knows how to estimate exactly all
our actions, by comparing them with our disposition
and ability.

His debut in literature was a modest one. He
prepared a work, The Power of Religion, on the
Mind, giving the testimony of many eminent men
'■ in recommendation of religion, as the great pro-

' moter of our happiness here and hereafter," and
printed five hundred copies at his own expense,
which he presented anonymously to the principal
inhabitants of the vicinity. It was so well re-

| ceived that the author was induced to publish it

j in the ordinary maimer. It met with a large
sale ; other editions were called for, and on the

j issue of the sixth, he was induced to put his name
to the title-page.

His next work was the English Grammar. This
originated in the following manner. A school
had been established in York for the education of

. young ladies. Mr. Murray was desirous that the

262

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

close study of the English language should form
a portion of the course pursued. As the young
teachers at first employed themselves needed in-
struction in this branch of knowledge, lie assem-
bled them in his own house for oral instruction.
They found themselves so much benefited by his
exertions, that they urged him to write an Eng-
lish grammar for the use of their pupils. This he
consented to do. The work was published in
1795, and was followed by a volume of exercises,
and a key explanatory of their construction.
These were published in 1797, and an abridgment,
by the author, of his grammar for the use of
schools appeared the same year.

The series was completed by the i-sue of a vo-
lume of extracts from the best authors of the lan-
guage, under the title of the English Hauler. Ik-
soon after published a volume of similar character
devoted to French literature.

The author's autobiography* closes with the
year 1809. It was continued by the Friend to
whom it was addressed, Elizabeth Frank, to the
close of his lung life of 81 years, February 10,1826.
His wife, to whom he was tenderly attached, sur-
vived him. They had no children. His will pro-
vided for the investment of Iris-property, after the
death of his wife, in the hands of trustees in the
city of New York, and the expenditure of its
yearly income

In liberating black people who may be held in
slavery, assisting them when freed, and giving their
descendants or the descendants of other black per-
sons, suitable education: in promoting the civiliza-
tion and instruction of the Indians of North America;
in the purchase and distribution of books tending to
promote piety and virtue, and the truth of Chris-
tianity, and it is his wish that " The Power of Reli-
gion on the ilind, in Retirement, Affliction, and at
the Approach of Death," with the author's latest cor-
rections and improvements, may form a considerable
part of those books ; and in assisting and relieving
the poor of any description, in any manner that may
be judged proper, especially those who are sober,
industrious, and of good character.

The lines " To my "Wife" have been generally
attributed to Lindley Murray. They were pub-
lished in the Southern Literary Messenger, for
October, 1836, from a manuscript copy, endorsed
Lindley Murray to his Wife, "apparently written
as far back as 1783," found among a parcel of let-
ters from the sisters of the grammarian to a lady
friend. They, however, appear, with the excep-
tion of the last stanza, in the Weccamieal Chaplet,
a selection of original poetry, comprising smaller
Poems, serious and comic ; classical trifles ; son-
nets, inscriptions, and epitaphs ; songs and ballads;
mock heroics ; epigrams, fragments, &c. Edited
by George Huddesford. Cr. 8vo., pp. 223, 6s. bds.
Leigh & Sotheby, 1805; a collection which de-
rives its name from the circumstance, that all its
contributors were educated at Winchester school,
founded by William of Wickham. The Poem in
question, with the title, " Song — Mutual Love," is
quoted as one of the novelties, or new poems, of
this publication in the Monthly Review, for Feb-
ruary, 1806 ; and is stated to be, with many of

* Memoirs of tlie Life and Writings of Lindley "Murray, in a
Series of Letters, written by himself ; with a preface, and a
continuation of the Memoirs. By Elizabeth Frank. New
York. 1S27.

the best pieces of the volume, by Huddesford, who
is spoken of as a " legitimate (literary) descendant
of Mat Prior."

Huddesford published in 1801, Poems, including
Salmagundi, Topsy Turvy, Bubble and Squeak,
and Crainbe Repetita, Lond. 1801. 2 vols. 8vo.
12s. Most of these had previously appeared in a
separate form. The shorter pieces are interspers-
ed with poems by his friends. In 1805, he pub-
lished his Champignons du Diable, or Imperial
Mushrooms, amock heroic poem in five cantos ; in-
cluding a Conference between the Pope and the
Devil, on his Holiness' Visit to Paris, illustrated
with Notes. 12mo. (Noticed in Monthly Re-
view, 38, p. 272.)

Huddesford's Poems show great ease and spirit
in versification, with abundant wit. He seems to
have thrown off effusions on subjects of the
day, being probably a gentleman of easy fortune,
writing for amusement. His Chaplet is dedi-
cated by permission to Lord Loughborough : and
among his school associates at Winchester were
the present Archbishop of Canterbury, and other
distinguished persons.* His claim to the verses
in question appears superior to ' that of Murray,
but neither deserves any greater praise than that
(•fan adapter, as the lines in question are taken
with slight alteration from the song, "Matrimo-
nial Happiness," by John Lapraik, a Scotchman,
who was born in 1727; published a volume of
Poems in 1778; and died the keeper of the post-
office at the village of Muirkirk, in 1807. Burns
hearing the song sung at a " rockin, to ca' the
crack and weave the stockin," was so struck with
its beaut}', that he addressed a rhyming epistle
to the author. In it he says,

There was ae sang amang the rest,
Aboon them a 'it pleased me best.
That some kind husband had addrest

To some sweet wife';
It thrill'd the heart strings through the bresst,

A' to the life.

I've scarce heard ought described sae wee!.
What generous manly bosoms feel ;
Thought I, can this be Pope, or Steele,

Or Beattie's work ?
They tould me 'twas an odd kind ehiel

About Muirkirk. •

The letter, as it well might, led to a correspon-
dence, which includes two other poetical Epislles
by Burns,t between the poets. Burns says that
Lapraik "often told him that he composed the
song one day when his wife had been fretting o'er
their misfortunes," which consisted in the loss of
their small estate at Dalfram, nearMuirkirk ; "which
little property he was obliged to sell, in consequence
of some connexion, as security, for some persons
concerned in that villanous bubble, The Ayr
Bank.'"

Having thus traced the poem to the original
source, we present it in its successive stages.

MATHIMONIAL HAPPINESS.

[Btj John Lapraik.}
When I upon thy bosom lean,
And fondly clasp thee a' rny ain,

* Southern Lit. Messenger. April, 1S3T.
t Chambers's Life ar.d Works of Burns, i. 115, 119, 1S9.
Book of Scottish Sols:, p. 3ol.

JOHN JAY.

263

I glory in the sacred ties

That make us one, wha anee "were twain.
A mutual flame inspires us baith,

The tender look, the meltin kiss:
E'en years shall ne'er destroy our love,

But only gi'eus change o' bliss.

Ha'e I a wish ? It's a' for thee !

I ken thy wish is me to please ;
Our moments pass sae smooth away,

That numbers on us look and gaze ;
Weel pleased they see our happy days,

Nor envy's sel' finds aught to blame ;
Aud aye, when weary cares arise,

Thy bosom still shall be my hame.

I'll lay me there and tak' my rest;

And, if that aught disturb my dear,
I'll bid her laugh her cares away,

And beg her not to drop a tear.
Ha'e I a joy ? it's a' her ain !

United still her heart and mine ;
They're like the woodbine round the tree,

That's twined till death shall them disjoin.

BONG — MTTUAL LOVE.

[Fro7)i the Weccamical CJuqjlei.]
When on thy bosom I recline,
Enraptur'd still to call thee mine,

To call thee mine for life,
I glory in the sacred ties,
Which modern wits and fools despise,

Of husband and of wife.

One mutual flame inspires our bliss,
The tender look, the melting kiss.

Even years have not destroyed ;
Some sweet sensation ever new,
Springs up, and proves the maxim true,

That love can ne'er be eloy'd.

Have I a wish ? 'tis all for thee.
Hast thou a wish ? 'tis all for me.

So soft our moments move,
That angels look with ardent gaze,
Well pleased to see our happy days,

And bid us live and love.

If cares arise — and cares will come. —
Thy bosom is my softest home;

I'll lull me there to rest;
And is there aught disturbs my fair ?
I'll bid her sigh out every care,

And lose it in my breast.

Additional stanza, added in the copy attributed
to Dudley Murray : —

Have I a wish ? 'tis all her own ;
All hers and mine are roll'd in one,

Our hearts are so entwined,
That, like the ivy round the tree,
Bound up in closest amity,

Tis death to be disjoin'd.

JOIIX JAY.
The literary reputation of Jay is incidental to his
political career, and attaches "to the national state
papers which he sent forth from the Conti-
nental Congress, which did much to prepare the
way for American liberty, and to his contribu-
tions to the Federalist, by which he assisted in
permanently securing that liberty which he was
one of the first to promote. His "Address to
the people of Great Britain," in 1774, called
forth the admiration of Jefferson. It is marked
by moral earnestness and patriotic fervor, quali-

ties shared by his address to the inhabitants of
Canada and the people of Ireland. The appeal
of the Convention of the State of New York to
the people in 1776, anil the address of Congress
to the country in 1799f meeting the financial
condition of the times, and his Address to the
people of the State of New York, in support of
the adoption of the Constitution, are his other
chief productions of this kind. He. wrote five
papers of the Federalist; the second, third,
fourth, and fifth, on Dangers from foreign force
and influence, and the sixty-fourth on the treaty-
making power of the senate. He would have
furnished others had he not received an injury
in the interim, in hisvindication of the law in the
Doctors' mob of the city of New York.

Of Huguenot descent, Jay was a native of the
city of New York, born December 12, 1745, a
graduate of Columbia College, a delegate to the
first revolutionary Congress at the age of twenty-
eight, three years later Chief Justice of Ins State,
Minister of Spain and negotiator of the peace
with Great Britain, Secretary of State, Chief
Justice of the United States, Governor of his own
State : abundant honors and employment, which
still left him nearly thirty years of rural retire-
ment at Bedford, where he died May 17, 1829, at
the age of eighty-four. Moral worth and sober
judgment have had no finer exemplification in
our best political annals. His life, written by
his son William Jay, contains a Selection from
his Correspondence.

FKOM THE ADDRESS OP TirE NEW Y0KK CONVENTION, 1776.

" Under the auspices and direction of Divine
Providence, your forefathers removed to the wilds
and wilderness of America. By their industry,
they made it fruitful — and by their virtue, a happy
country. And we should still have enjoyed the
blessings of peace and plenty, if we had not forgot-
ten the source from which these blessings flowed;
and permitted our country to be contaminated by
the many shameful vices which have prevailed
among us.

" It is a well known truth, that no virtuous people
were ever oppressed ; and it is also true, that a
scourge was never wanting to those of an opposite
character. Even the Jews, those favourites of
Heaven, met with the frowns, whenever they for-
got the smiles of their benevolent Creator. By ty-
rants of Egypt, of Babylon, of Syria, and of Rome,
they were severely chastised; and those tyrants
themselves, wdien they had executed the vengeance
of Almighty God, their own crimes bursting on
their own heads, received the rewards justly due
to their violation of the sacred rights of mankind.

" You were born equally free with the Jews, and
have as good a right to be exempted from the
arbitrary domination of Britain, as they had from
the invasions of Egypt, Babylon, Syria, or Rome.
But they, for their wickedness, were permitted to
be scourged by the latter; and we, for our wicked-
ness, are scourged by tyrants as cruel and im-
placable as those. Our case, however, is peculiarly
distinguished from theirs. Their enemies were
strangers, unenlightened, and bound to them by no

264

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

ties of gratitude or consanguinity. Our enemies, on
the contrary, call themselves Christians. They are
of a nation and people bound to us by the strongest
ties. A people, by whose side nfe have fought and
bled ; whose power we have contributed to raise ;
who owe much of their wealth to our industry, and
whose grandeur has been augmented by our ex-
ertions. *******

" You may be told that your forts have been
taken ; your country ravaged ; and that your
armies have retreated ; and that, therefore, God
is not with you. It is true, that some forts have
been taken, that our country hath been ravaged,
and that our Maker is displeased with us. But it is
also true, that the King of Heaven is not, like the
king of Britain, implacable. If we turn from our
sins, He will turn from his anger. Then will our
arms be crowned with success, and the pride and
power of our enemies, like the arrogance and pride
of Nebuchadnezzar, will vanish away. Let a gene-
ral reformation of manners take place — let universal
charity, public spirit, and private virtue be incul-
cated, encouraged, and practised. Unite in preparing
for a vigorous defence of your country, as if all de-
pended on your own exertions. And when you
have done all things, then rely upon the good Provi-
dence of Almighty God for success, in full confidence
that without his blessing, all our efforts will inevi-
tably fail. ****** *

" Cease, then, to desire the flesh-pots of Egypt,
and remember her task-masters and oppression. No
longer hesitate about rejecting all dependence on a
king who will rule you with a rod of iron : freedom
is now in your power — value the heavenly gift:
remember, that if you dare to neglect or despise it,
you offer an insult to the Divine bestower — nor
despair of keeping it. After the armies of Rome
had been repeatedly defeated by Hannibal, that
imperial city was besieged by this brave and ex-
perienced general, at the head of a numerous and
victorious army. But, so far were her glorious citi-
zens from being dismayed by the loss of so many
battles, and of all their country — so confident were
they in their own virtue and the protection of
Heaven, that the very land on which the Cartha-
ginians were encamped, was sold at public auction
for more than the usual price. These heroic citi-
zens disdained to receive his protections, or to regard
his proclamations. They invoked the protection of
the Supreme Being — they bravely defended then-
city with undaunted courage — they repelled the
enemy and recovered their country. Blush, then,
ye degenerate spirits, who give all over for lost, be-
cause your enemies have marched through three or
four counties in this and a neighbouring State — ye
who basely fly to have the yoke of slavery fixed on
your necks, and to swear that you and your chil-
dren shall be slaves for ever. * * *

" Rouse, brave citizens ! Do your duty like men ;
and be persuaded that Divine Providence will not
permit this western world to be involved in the hor-
rors of slavery. Consider, that from the earliest
ages of the world, religion, liberty, and reason have
been bending their course towards the Betting sun.
The holy gospels are yet to be preached in these
western regions; and we have the highest reason to
believe that the Almighty will not suffer slavery and
the gospel to go hand in hand. It cannot, it will
not be.

" But if there be any among us, dead to all sense
of honour, and love of their country; if deaf to all
the calls of liberty, virtue, and religion ; if forget-
ful of the magnanimity of their ancestors, and the
happiness of their children ; if neither the exam-
ples nor. the success of other nations — the dictates

of reason and of nature ; or the great duties
they owe to their God, themselves, and their pos-
terity, have any effect upon them — if neither the
injuries they have received, the prize they are con-
tending for, the future blessings or curses of their
children — the applause or the reproach of all man-
kind— the approbation or displeasure of the Great
Judge — or the happiness or misery consequent upon
their conduct, in this and a future state, can move
them; — then let them be assured, that they deserve
to be slaves, and are entitled to nothing but anguish .
and tribulation. Let them banish from their remem-
brance the reputation, the freedom, and the happi-
ness they have inherited from their forefathers. Let
them forget every duty, human and divine; remem-
ber not that they have children: and beware how
they call to mind the justice of the Supreme Being:
let them go into captivity, like the idolatrous and
disobedient Jews; and be a reproach and a by-word
among the nations. But we think better things of
you, — we believe and are persuaded that you will
do your duty like men, and cheerfully refer your
cause to the great and righteous Judge. If success
crown your efforts, all the blessings of freemen will
be your reward. If you fall in the contest, you will
be happy with God in heaven."

BENJAMIN ETJSH.
The benevolent and ingenious Dr. Benjamin
Rush, the friend of Franklin, was born on his
father's farm near Philadelphia, December 24,
1745. One of his ancestors, John Rush, a captain
of horse under Cromwell, emigrated from England
to the state among its first settlers. In his boy-
hood he was fortunate, after .the death of his
father, in being placed under the instruction of
his aunt's husband, Dr. Finley, afterwards Presi-
dent of Princeton, then at Nottingham, a country
town in Maryland, remarkable for the simplicity
and purity of its people. At fourteen lie entered
the College at Princeton, then presided over by the
eloquent and patriotic Davies. He was graduated
the next year, studied medicine with Dr. Redman,
translated the aphorisms of Hippocrates, and
wrote a Eulogy on the Rev. Gilbert Tennent, the
associate of Whitefield, at Philadelphia, passed to
Edinburgh, where he took his degree in 1768, re-
turning the next year to America after a residence
in London and Paris. He then became connected
with the College of Philadelphia as Lecturer on
Chemistry, and afterwards, when that institution
became the University of Pennsylvania, as a Pro-
fessor of the Institutes and Practice of Medicine,
delivering courses of medical lectures for forty-
four years. His theories, and the story of his
success in the treatment of the yellow fever of
1793, in which he derived aid from the acumen of
Dr. Mitchell of Virginia,* of which he published
an account in 1794, belong to the annals of me-
dical science.

His political principles were displayed in his
zeal on the breaking out of the Revolution, when

* John Mitchell, an Englishman, Fellow of the Royal Soci-
ety, settled in Virginia as physician about 17( 0, wrote on bo-
tany, aud also an Essay on the Causes of the Different Colours
of People of Different Climates, attributing the variation to
climate, published in the Philosophical Transactions. His pi-
per on the Yellow Fever of Virginia, in MS., was commuri-
cated by Franklin to Bush, who made one of its hints on tl.e
use of purgatives, the basis of his medical practice in that
disease, lie died about 1750. — Ramsay's Eulogy on Eu;h,
Tuacher's Med. Biog. Miller's Retrospect, i. Sis.

BENJAMIN RUSH.

2G5

lie sat in Congress and signed the Declaration of
Independence. He bore a medical appointment
in the military service. In 1787 he was a mem-
ber of the State Convention for the adoption of
the Federal Constitution. In the latter years of
his life he held the government appointment of
Treasurer of the Mint. He was greatly honored
and esteemed at home and abroad. His death
occurred at Philadelphia, April 19, 1813, in his
sixty-eighth year. Jefferson, writing to John
Adams the ensuing month, says, " Another of
our friends of seventy-six is gone, my dear sir,
another of the co-signers of the Independence of
our country : and a better man than Rush could
not have left us, more benevolent, more learned,
of finer genius, or more honest."

Of his numerous professional writings, his
Medical Inquiries and Observations form a series
of four volumes. This work, which was pub-
lished in a third edition, revised and enlarged by
the author, in Philadelphia, in 1809, with a num-
ber of special medical topics, includes the Inquiry
into the Cause of Animal Life, the Natural
History of Medicine amour/ the North American
Irdians, the Influence 'of Physical Causes upon
the Moral Faculty, a paper On the State of the
Body and Mind in Old Age, and the ingenious
Account of the Influence of the Military and
Political Even ts of the American Revolution upon
the Human Body*

His Medical Inquiries and Observations upon
the Diseases of the Mind, following the same gene-
ral title, form another volume, which appeared in
1812, not long before his death ; a book which is
of interest to the general reader by the variety
of its topics and its frequent personal anecdotes.

His reading was various, and all brought to
bear on his medical studies. It was his constant
object to popularize and render attractive the
principles of medicine. His Introductory Lec-
tures to Courses of Lectures upon the Institutes
and Practice of Medicine, connect many impor-
tant moral topics with the science which he dis-
cussed.

There is a pleasant early volume of his Essays,
Literary, Moral, and Philosophical, collected by
him in an octavo, in 1798, chiefly from his pa-
pers in the Museum and Columbian Magazine
of Philadelphia. It is a favorable display of his
tastes and powers. His habits of intellectual in-
dustry were ingenious and unceasing. He was
greatly influenced by the example of Franklin,
of whose conversation lie meditated writing a
volume, an undertaking which it is much to be
regretted he did not execute. He was always in
company with a book — if not a written volume,
at least, as his eulogist Dr. Ramsay remarked,
the book of nature. He kept with him a note-
book, in one part of which he inserted facts, in
another, ideas and reflection-, as they arose in his
own mind, or were the suggestions of others.
He advised his pupils to lay every person they
met with in stage-coaches, packets, or elsewhere,
under contribution for facts in the physical sci-
ences. It was a saying of his, which reminds

* Corvisart. in his Essay on the Disease* antl Organic Le-
sions of tin' Heart and great Vessels, notices the increase of
affections of that nature under the excitement of the French
devolution.

one of his free use of the lancet, " that ideas,
whether acquired from books or by reflection,
produced a plethora in the mind, which can only
be relieved by depletion from the pen or tongue."
His judgment was not, however, always equally
sound, his restless inquisitiveness of knowledge
being sometimes at fault. The Rev. Dr. Staugh-
ton, who delivered a funeral sermon on his death,
said, " His intellect was a Columbus, mistaking
sometimes the nature and extent of discovery,
but delighting in the voyage, calm, persevering,
and successful." One of these false discoveries
in intellectual geography, was the notion ex-
pressed in his Observations on the Study of the
Latin and Greek Languages, of the worthlessness.
of that branch of education. His zeal carried
him so far on this point, as to advance the thesis,
" the cultivation of these languages is a great ob-
stacle to the cultivation and perfection of the
English language."

Schoolboys had in him a good friend. His
paper On the Amusements and Punishments pro-
per for Schools* resolutely opposes corporal
punishment, as his Essay on the Punishment of
Crimes by Death, does hanging, for he thought
the best means of prevention to be, "by living,
and not by dead examples." His Paradise of
Negro Slaves — A Dream, the vision appended to
his notice of the Life of Anthony Benezet, is a
dramatic and highly pathetic appeal for humanity
to the African. His benevolence was shown in
his efforts to improve the condition of prisons ;
and his practical Christianity, by the disposition
which he made of his Sunday fees. He gave
i them entirely to objects of charity. His gene-,
rosity led him, in the yellow fever time, to com-
municate freely to the public the remedies, the
success of which had brought him a great acces-
sion of practice. When he received five thou-

* He thought the study of grammar was too early forced
upon tfic attention of children. lie recommended geography
and natural history as primary studies. " By making natural
history the first study of a boy," says he, with great beauty,

I "we imitate the conduct of the first teacher of man. The
first lesson that Adam received from his Maker in Paradise,

! was upon Natural History."

2GG

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

sand dollars in the libel suit against Cobbett, he
gave the money to the poor.*

His religion was inwrought with his love of
country. A Christian, he said, could not fail of
being a republican. Ills Inquiry into the Effect
of Ardent Spirits upon the Human Body and
Mind places him among the earliest promoters
of the Temperance cause.

The amiable activity of Rush was shown in
his causing Beattie, the poet, to be elected a
member of the American Philosophical Society,
and sending him a certificate subscribed by Frank-
lin. This was in 1786. His letter to the poet
commences : " The American Revolution, which
divided the British empire, made no breach in the
republic of letters.'"t

A pleasing instance of the happy sympathe-
tic turn of Rush is in his short biographies of the
Quaker Benezet and the eccentric Benjamin Lay,
as well as in his Account of the Life and Charac-
ter of Christopher Ludicicl; "the baker-general
of the army of the United States during the Revo-
lutionary war," which lie wrote in Poulsou's
American Daily Advertiser, in 1801. J

The personal description, in Sanderson's Lives
of the Signers, answering to the portrait by Sully,
represents him as " above the middle size ; of a
slender but well proportioned figure. The dia-
meter of his head, from back to front, was un-
commonly large. He had a prominent forehead ;
aquiline nose; highly animated blue eyes, with
a chin and mouth expressive and comely; his
look was fixed, his aspect thoughtful. ''§ John
Adams, who met him in Philadelphia, during the
Congress of 177-1-5, notices his residence upon
Water street, and the fine prospect of Delaware
River and New Jersey, from his window; and

* The eagerness of "Hush led him to carry his theories and
notions to excess. Cobbett seized upon souie of his weak
points for annoyance, and committing his pen to a libel, was
mulcted by an indignant jury of the good Doctor's townspeo-
ple (encouraged by his counsel, Joseph Hopkinson, tiie author
of "Hail Columbia,") in the sum of five thousand dollars,
which, with the sacrifices of his property and the incidental
damages, he sets down in the Rush- Li >jht at eight thousand.
This was his famous rejoinder to the libel suit, and was pub-
lished at Kew York, in 1800, in a periodical 12mo. pamphlet,
in four numbers, in which he brings all his artillery of squib
and detraction against the Doctor. It had a large sale, for the
public relishes witty personality, and Cobbett had a method
of always getting readers for his writings. Perhaps the com-
parison of Rush to Sangrado, in his bleeding practice, sup-
ported by parallel passages taken from Gil Bias and the Doc-
tor's writings, and the eulogies by his friends, is the best por-
tion. He soon left for England, when Frenean celebrated his
departure with an allusion to his extinguished Rush-light, and
the popular charge of his pension from England as a supporter
of monarchical ideas in America, and an enemy to free insti-
tutions.

Five thousand dollars, we may guess,
Have made his pension something less —
So, Peter left us — in distress,

+ Life of Beattie, by the P.ev. Alexander Dyce.

% Ludwick was a man of mark, a German, who, after va-
rious adventures, as a soldier in the wars of the Austrians
against the Turks, and a sailor out of England, reached Phila-
delphia in 1758. With the proceeds of a small mercantile ven-
ture he went to London, and learned the business of a ginger-
bread baker and confectioner; returning to Philadelphia in
1774 with a stock of gingerbread prints, with which he be-
came famous for his manufacture of that article. He joined
the Revolution at its outset, and sacrificed his property in the
cause. He assisted the commissariat with his skill as a baker.
He died in 18(1, in his eightieth year, leaving a considerable

?roperty for benev >lent uses, mainly for charity s -hoois. In
831. tiie newspaper account of him, by Ru>h. was revised and
republished, by direction of the Philadelphia Society for the
establishment and support of charity schools, in a linn 18mo.
volume.
§ Biography of the Signers, iv, 285.

describes his person characteristically — " an ele-
gant, ingenious body ; a sprightly, pretty fellow.
He is a republican ; he lias been much in Lon-
don; acquainted with Sawbridge, Macaulay,
Burgh, and others of that stamp. Dilly sends
him books and pamphlets, and Sawbridge and
Macaulay correspond with him."*

He married in his thirty-second year, in 1776,
the daughter of the Hon. Judge Stockton, by
which marriage he had thirteen children.

AN ACCOUNT OF THE INFLUENCE OF TTTE MILITARY ANP POLITICAL
EVENTS OF TUE AMEP.ICAN REVOLUTION UPON THE HUMAN
BODY.

There were several circumstances peculiar to the
American revolution, which should be mentioned
previously to an account of the influence of the
events which accompanied it upon the human body.

1. The revolution interested every inhabitant of
the country of both sexes, and of every rank and age
that was capable of reflection. An indifferent, or
neutral, spectator of the controversy was scarcely to
be found in any of the states.

2. The scenes of war and government which it
introduced were new to the greatest pait of the
inhabitants of the United states, and operated with
all the force of novelty upon the human mind.

3. The controversy was conceived to be the most
important of any that had ever engaged the atten-
tion of mankind. It was generally believed, by the
friends of the revolution, that the very existence of
freedom, upon our globe, was involved in the issue
of the contest in favour of the United States.

4. The American revolution included in it the
cares of government, as well as the toils and dan-
gers of war. The American mind was. therefore,
frequently occupied, at the same time, by the diffi-
cult and complicated duties of political and military
life.

5. The revolution was conducted by men who had
been born free, and whose sense of the blessings of
liberty was of course more exquisite than if they
had just emerged from a state of slavery.

6. The greatest part of the soldiers in the armies
of the United States had family connections and
property in the country.

7. The war was carried on by the Americans
against a nation, to whom they had long been tied
by tiie numerous obligations of consanguinity, laws,
religion, commerce, language, interest, and a mutual
sense of national glory. The resentments of the
Americans of course rose, as is usual in all disputes,
in proportion to tiie number and force of these
ancient bonds of affection and union.

8. A predilection to a limited monarchy, as an
essential part of a free and safe government, and an
attachment to the reigning king of Great Britain
(witli a very few exceptions) were universal in every
part of the United States.

9. There was at one time a sudden dissolution of
civil government in all, and of ecclesiastical esta-
blishments in several, of the states.

10. The expenses of the war were supported by
means of a paper currency, which was continually
depreciating.

From the action of each of these causes, and fre-
quently from their combination in the same persons,
effects might reasonably be expected, botii upon the
mind and body, which have seldom occurred ; or if
they have, I believe were never fully recorded in
any age or country.

It might afford some useful instruction, to point

* Adams's Diary, Works, ii. 880, 427.

BENJAMIN RUSH.

267

out the influence of the military and political events
of the revolution upon the understandings; passions,
and morals of the citizens of the United States ; but
my business in the present inquiry is only to take
notice of the influence of those events upon the
human bod}T, through the medium of the mind.

I shall first mention the effects of the military,
and, secondly, of the political events of the revolu-
tion. The last must be considered in a two-fold
view, accordingly as they affected the friends, or
the enemies, of the revolution.

I. In treating of the effects of the military events,
I shall take notice, first, of the influence of actual
•war, and, secondly, of the influence of the military
life.

In the beginning of a battle, I have observed
thirst to be a very common sensation among both
officers an.l soldiers. It occurred where no exercise,
or action of the body, could have excited it.

Many officers have informed me, that after the
first onset in a battle they felt a glow of heat, so
universal as to be perceptible in both their ears.
This was the case, in a particular manner, in the
battle of Princeton, on the third of January, in the
year 1777, on which day the weather was remark-
ably cold.

A veteran colonel of a New England regiment,
whom I visited at Princeton, and who was wounded
in the hand at the battle of Monmouth, on the 28th
of June, 1778 (a day in which the mercury stood
at 90' of Fahrenheit's thermometer) after describing
his situation at the time he received his wound, I
conclude! his story by remarking, "that fighting
■was hot work on a cold day, but much more so
on a warm day." The many instances which
appeared after that memorable battle, of soldiers
who were found among the slain without any
marks of wounds or violence upon their bodies,
were probably occasioned by the heat excited in the
body, by the emotions of the mind, being added to
that of the atmosphere.

Soldiers bore operations of every kind, immedi-
ately after a battle, with much more fortitude than
they did at any time afterwards.

The effects of the military life upon the human
body come next to be considered under this head.

In another place I have mentioned three cases
of pulmonary consumption being perfectly cured by
the diet and hardships of a camp life.

Doctor Blane, in his valuable observations on the
diseases incident to seamen, ascribes the extraordi-
nary healthiness of the British fleet in the month of
April, 1782, to the effects produced on the spirit of
the soldiers and seamen, by the victory obtained
over the French fleet on the 12th of that month ;
and relates, upon the authority of Mr. Ives, an
instance, in the war betwueu Great Britain and the
combined powers of France and Spain, in 1744, ill
■which the scurvy, as well as other diseases, were
checked by the prospect of a naval engagement.

The American ami}' furnished an instance of the
effects of victory upon the human mind, which may
serve to establish the inferences from the facts
related by Doctor Blane. The Philadelphia militia
"who joined the remains of General Washington's
arm}', in December, 1776, and shared with them a
few days afterwards in the capture of a large body
of Hessians at Trenton, consisted of 1500 men, most
of whom had been accustomed to the habits of a
city life. These men slept in tents and barns, and
sometimes in the open air, during the usual colds of
December and January; and yet there were but
two instances of sickness, and only one of death, in
that body of men in the course of nearly six weeks,
in those winter months. This extraordinary healthi-

ness of so great a number of men, under such trying
circumstances, can only be ascribed to the vigour
infused into the human body by the victory of
Trenton having produced insensibility to all the usual
remote causes of diseases.

Militia officers and soldiers, who enjoyed good
health during a campaign, were often affected by
fevers and other diseases, as soon as they returned
to their respective homes. I know one instance of a
militia captain, who was seized with convulsions the
first night he lay on a feather bed, after sleeping
several months on a mattress, or upon the ground.
These affections of the body appeared to be pro-
duced only by the sudden abstraction of that tone
in the system, which was excited by a sense of
danger, and the other invigorating objects of a
military life.

The nostalgia of Doctor Cullen, or the home-
sickness, was a frequent disease in the American
army, more especially among the soldiers of the
New England states. But this disease was sus-
pended by the superior action of the mind, under
the influence of the principles which governed com-
mon soldiers in the American army. Of this
General Gates furnished me with a remarkable
instance in 1776, soon after his return from the
command of a large body of regular troops and
militia at Ticonderoga. From the effects of the
nostalgia, and the feebleness of the discipline which
was exercised over the militia, desertions jvere very
frequent and numerous in his army, in the latter
part of the campaign ; and yet during the three
week.* in which the general expected every hour an
attack to be made Upon him by General Burgoyne,
there was not a single desertion from his army,
which consisted at that time of 10,000 men.

The patience, firmness, and magnanimity, with
which the officers and soldiers of the American army
endured the complicated evils of hunger, cold and
nakedness, can only be ascribed to an insensibility
of body produced by an uncommon tone of mind,
excited by the love of liberty and their country.

Before I proceed to the second general division
of this subject, I shall take notice, that more instan-
ces of apoplexies occurred in the city of Philadel-
phia, in the winter of 1774-5, than had been known
in former years. I should have hesitated in record-
ing this fact, had I not found the observation sup-
ported by a fact of the same kind, and produced by
a nearly similar cause, in the appendix to the prac-
tical works of Doctor Baglivi, professor of physic
and anatomy at Rome. After a very wet season in
the winter of 1694-5, he informs us, that "apoplex-
ies displayed their rage ; and perhaps (adds our
author) some part of this epidemic illness was
owing to the universal grief and domestic care,
occasioned by all Europe being engaged in a war.
All commerce was disturbed, and all the avenues of
peace blocked up, so that the strongest heart could
scarcely bear the thoughts of it." The winter of
1774-5 was a period of uncommon anxiety among
the citizens of America. Every countenance wore
the marks of painful solicitude for the event of a
petition to the throne of Britain, which was to
determine whetherreconciliation, or a civil Avar, with
all its terrible and distressing consequences, were
to take place. The apoplectic fit, which deprived
the world of the talents and virtues of Peyton
Randolph, while he rilled the chair of 'Congress, in
1775, appeared to be occasioned in part by the pres-
sure of the uncertainty of those great events upon
his mind. To the name of this illustrious patriot,
several others might be added, who were affected
by the apoplexy in the same memorable year. At
this time a difference of opinion upon the subject of

268

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

the contest with Great Britain had scarcely taken
place among the citizens of America.

II. The political events of the revolution pro-
duced different effects upon the human body,
through the medium of the mind, according as
they acted upou the friends or enemies of the revo-
lution.

I shall first describe its effects upon the former
class of citizens of the United States.

Many persons, of infirm and delicate habits, were
restored to perfect health, by the change of place,
or occupation, to which the war exposed them.
This was the case in a more especial manner with
hysterical women, who were much interested in the
successful issue of the contest. The same effects of
a civil war upon the hysteria, were observed by
Doctor Cullen in Scotland, in the years 1745 and
1746. It may perhaps help to extend our ideas of
the influence of the passions upon diseases, to add,
that when either love, jealous}', grief, or even devo-
tion, wholly engross the female mind, they seldom
fail, in like manner, to cure or to suspend hysterical
complaints.

An uncommon cheerfulness prevailed everywhere,
among the friends of the revolution. Defeats, and
even the loss of relations and property, were soon
forgotten in the great objects of the war.

The population in the United States was more
rapid from births during the war, than it had ever
been in the siime number of years since the settle-
ment of the country.

I am disposed to ascribe this increase of births
chiefly to the quantity and extensive circulation of
money, and to the facility of procuring the means
of subsistence during the war, which favoured mar-
riages among the labouring part of the people.*
But I have sufficient documents to prove, that mar-
riages were more fruitful than in former years, and
that a considerable number of unfruitful marriages
became fruitful during the war. In 1783, the year
of the peace, there were several children born of
parents who had lived many years together without
issue.

Mr. Hume informs us, in his History of England,
that some old people, upon hearing the news of the
restoration of Charles II., died suddenly of joy.
There was a time when I doubted the truth of this
assertion ; but I am now disposed to believe it, from
having heard of a similar effect from an agreeable
political event, in the course of the American revo-
lution. The door-keeper of Congress, an aged man,
died suddenly, immediately after hearing of the
capture of Lord Cornwallis's army. His death was
universally ascribed to a violent emotion of political
joy. This species of J03' appears to be one of the
strongest emotions that can agitate the human mind.

Perhaps the influence of that ardour in trade and
speculation, which seized many of the friends of the
revolution, and which was excited by the fallacious
nominal amount of the paper money, should rather
be considered as a disease, than as a passion. It un-
hinged the judgment, deposed the moral faculty, and
filled the imagination, in many people, with airy
and impracticable schemes of wealth and grandeur.
Desultory manners, and a peculiar species of extem-
pore conduct, were among its characteristic symp-
toms. It produced insensibility to cold, hunger, and
danger. The trading towns, and in some instances
the extremities of the United States, were frequently

* Wheat, which was sold before the war for seven shillings
and sixpence, was sold for several years during the war for
four, and iit some places for two and sixpence Pennsylvania
currency, per bushel. Beggars of every description disap-
peared in the year 17T6, and were seldom seen till near the
elose of the war.

visited in a few hours or days by persons affected
by this disease ; and hence, " to travel with the
speed of a speculator," became a common saying in
many parts of the country. This species of insanity
(if I may be allowed to call it by that name) did not
require the confinement of a Bedlam to cure it, like
the South-Sea madness described by Doctor Mead.
Its remedies were the depreciation of the paper mo-
ney, and the events of the peace.

The political events of the revolution produced
upon its enemies very different effects from those
which have been mentioned.

The hypochondriasis of Doctor Cullen occurred, in
many instances, in persons of this description. In
some of them, the terror and distress of the revolu-
tion brought on a true melancholia.* The causes
which produced these diseases may be reduced to
four heads. 1. The loss of former power or influ-
ence in government. 2. The destruction of the hier-
archy of the English church in America. 3. The
change in the habits of diet, and company, and man-
ners, produced by the annihilation of just debts by
means of depreciated papier money. And 4. The
neglect, insults, and oppression, to which the loyal-
ists were expjosed, from individuals, and, in several
instances, from the laws of some of the states.

It was observed in South Carolina, that several
gentlemen, who had protected their estates by swear-
ing allegiance to the British government, died soon
after the evacuation of Charleston by the British
army. Their deaths were ascribed to the neglect
witli which they were treated by their ancient
' friends, who had adhered to the government of the
United States. The disease was called, by the com-
mon people, the protection fever.

From the causes which produced this hypochon-
driasis, I have taken the liberty of distinguishing it
by the name of revolutiana.

In some cases, this disease was rendered fatal by-
exile and confinement; and, in others, by those per-
sons who were afflicted with it seeking relief from
spirituous liquors.

The termination of the war by the peace in 1783
did not terminate the American revolution. The
minds of the citizens of the United States were
wholly unprepared for their new situation. The
excess of the passion for liberty, inflamed by the
successful issue of the war, produced, in many peo-
ple, opinions and conduct, which could not be re-
moved by reason nor restrained by government.
For a while, they threatened to render abortive the
goodness of Heaven to the United States, in deliver-
ing them from the evils of slavery and war. The
extensive influence which these opinions had upon
the understandings, passions, and morals of many of
' the citizens of the United States, constituted a form
: of insanity, which I shall take the liberty of distin-
guishing by the name of anarchia.

I hope no offence will be given by the freedom of
: any of these remarks. An inquirer after philosophi-
cal truth should consider the passions of men in the
same light that he does the laws of matter or mo-
tion. The friends and enemies of the American
revolution must have been more, or less, than men,
if they could have sustained the magnitude and ra-
pidity of the events that characterised it, without
discovering some marks of human weakness, both in
body and mind. Perhaps these weaknesses were
' permitted, that human nature might receive fresh
I honours in America, by the contending parties (whe-
ther produced by the controversies about independ-
ence or the national government) mutually forgiving

i * Insania partialis sine dyspepsia, of Doctor Cullen.

BENJAMIN RUSH.

269

each other, and uniting in plans of general order and
happiness.

EIOGBArmCAL ANECDOTES OF ANTHONY BENE7.ET.

This excellent man was placed by his friends in
early life in a counting-house, but finding commerce
opened temptations to a worldly spirit, he left his
master, and bound himself as an apprentice to a
cooper. Finding this business too laborious for his
constitution, he declined it, and .devoted himself to
school-keeping; in which useful employment he
continued during the greatest part of his life.

He possessed uncommon activity and industry in
every thing he undertook. He did every tiling as
if the words of his Saviour were perpetually sound-
ing in his ears, " wist ye not, that I must be about
my Father's business?"

He used to say, " the highest act of charity in the
world was to bear with the unreasonableness of
mankind."

He generally wore plush clothes, and gave as a
reason for it, that after he had worn them for two
or three years, they made comfortable and decent
garments for the poor.

He once informed a young friend, that his me-
mory began to fail him; " but this," said he, "gives
me one great advantage over thee — for thou canst
find entertainment in reading a good book only once
— but I enjoy that pleasure as often as I read it;
for it is always new to me."

He published several valuable tracts in favour of
the emancipation of the blacks, and of the civilizing
and christianizing the Indians. He also published a
pamphlet against the use of ardent spirits. All
these publications were circulated with great indus-
try, and at his own expense, throughout every part
of the United States.

He wrote letters to the queen of Great-Britain,
and to the queen of Portugal, to use their influence
with their respective courts to abolish the African
trade. He accompanied his letter to the queen of
Great-Britain with a present of his works. The
queen received them with great politeness, and said
after reading them " that the author appeared to be
a very good man."

He also wrote a letter to the king of Prussia, in
which he endeavoured to convince him of the unlaw-
fulness of war.

During the time the British army was in posses-
sion of the city of Philadelphia, he was indefatigable
in his endeavours to render the situation of the per-
sons who suffered from captivity as easy as possible.
He knew no fear in the presence of his fellow men,
however dignified they were by titles or station,
and such were the propriety and gentleness of his
manners in his intercourse with the gentlemen who
commanded the British and German troops, that
when he could not obtain the objects of his requests,
he never failed to secure their civilities, and fre-
quently their esteem.

So great was his sympathy with every thing that
was capable of feeling pain, that he resolved, towards
the close of his life, to eat no animal food. Upon
coming into his brother's house one day, when his
family was dining upon poultry, he was asked by
his brother's wife, to sit down and dine with them.
"What! (said he) would you have me eat my
neighbours?"

This misapplication of a moral feeling was sup-
posed to have brought on such a debility in his sto-
mach and bowels, as produced a disease in those
parts of which he finally died.

Few men, since the days of the apostles, ever lived
a more disinterested life. And yet, upon his death-

bed, he said, he wished to live a little longer, that
" he might bring down self."

The last time he ever walked across his room, was
to take from his desk six dollars, which he gave to a
poor widow whom he had long assisted to maintain.

He bequeathed after the death of his widow, a
house anil lot in which consisted his whole estate, to
the support of a school for the education of negro
children, which he had founded and taught for seve-
ral years before his death.

He died in May, 1784, in the "71st year of his age.

His funeral was attended by persons of all reli-
gious denominations, and by many hundred black
people.

Colonel J n, who had served in the American

army during the late war, in returning from the
funeral, pronounced an eulogiumupon him. It con-
sisted only of the following words: "I would ra-
ther," said he, " be Anthony Benezet in that coffin,
than George Washington with all his fame."

July 15, 1788.

BIOGRAPHICAL ANECDOTE OF BENJAMIN LAY.

There was a time when the name of this celebrated
Christian philosopher wras familiar to every man,
woman, and to nearly every child, in Pennsylvania.
His size, which was not much above four feet, his
dress, which was always the same, consisting of
light-coloured plain clothes, a white hat, and half-
boots; — his milk-white beard, which hung upon his
breast ; and, above all, his peculiar principles and
conduct, rendered him to many, an object of admi-
ration, and to all, the subject of conversation.

He was born in England, and spent the early part
of his life at sea. His first settlement was in Bar-
badoes, as a merchant, where he was soon convinced
of the iniquity of the slave trade. He bore au open
testimony against it, in all companies, by which
means he rendered himself so unpopular, that he left
the island in disgust, and settled in the then pro-
vince of Pennsylvania. He fixed his home at Abing-
tou, ten miles from Philadelphia, from whence he
made frequent excursions to the city, and to differ-
ent parts of the country.

At the time of his arrival in Pennsylvania, he
found many of his brethren, the people called Qua-
kers, had fallen so far from their original principles,
as to keep negro slaves. He remonstrated with
them, both publicly and privately, against the prac-
tice ; but, frequently with so much indiscreet zeal, as
to give great offence. He often disturbed their
public meetings, by interrupting or opposing their
preachers, for which he was once carried out of a
meeting-house, by two or three friends. Upon this
occasion he submitted with patience to what he con-
sidered a species of persecution. He lay down at
the door of the meeting-house, in a shower of rain,
till divine worship was ended; nor could he be
prevailed upon to rise, till the whole congregation
had stepped over him in their way to their respect-
ive homes.

To show his indignation against the practice of
slave-keeping, he once carried a bladder filled with
blood into a meeting; and, in the presence of the
whole congregation, thrust a sword, which he had
concealed under his coat, into the bladder, exclaim-
ing, at the same time, "Thus shall God shed the
blood of those persons who enslave their fellow-
creatures." The terror of this extravagant and un-
expected act, produced swoonings in several of the
women of the congregation.

He once went into the house of a friend in Phila-
delphia, and found him seated at breakfast, with his
family around him. Being asked by him to sit down
and breakfast with them, he said, " Dost thou keep

270

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

slaves in thy house ?" Upon being answered in the
affirmative, he said, " Then I will not partake with
thee, of the fruits of thy unrighteousness."

He took great pains to convince a farmer and his
wife, in Chester county, of the iniquity of keeping
negro slaves, but to no purpose. They not only
kept their slaves, but defended the practice. One
day he went into their house, and after a short dis-
course with them upon the wickedness, and parti-
cularly the inhumanity of separating children from
their parents, which was involved in the slave trade,
he seized the only child of the family, (a little girl
about three years old) and pretended to run away
with her. The child cried bitterly, " I will be good
— I will be good," and the parents showed signs of
being alarmed. Upon observing this scene, Mr. Lay
said, very emphatically, " You see and feel now a
Utile of the distress you occasion every daj*, by the
inhuman practice of slave-keeping."

This singular philosopher did not limit his pions
testimony against vice, to slave-keeping, alone. He
was opposed to every species of extravagance. Upon
the introduction of tea, as an article of diet, into
Pennsylvania, his wife bought a small quantity of
it, with a set of cups and saucers, and brought them
home with her. Mr. Lay took them from her,
brought them back again to the city, and from the
balcony of the court-house scattered the tea, and
broke the cups and saucers, in the presence of many
hundred spectators, delivering, at the some time, a
striking lecture upon the folly of preferring that
foreign herb, with its expensive appurtenances, to
the simple and wholesome diet of our country.

He possessed a good deal of wit, and was quick at
repartee. A citizen of Philadelphia, who knew his
peculiarities, once met him in a crowd, at a funeral,
in Germantown. Being desirous of entering into a
conversation with him that should divert the com-
pany, the citizen accosted him, with the most re-
spectful ceremony, and declared himself to be " his
most humble servant." "Art thou my servant?"
saidMr. Lay; " Yes, I am!" said the citizen. "Then,"
said Mr. Lay, (holding up his foot towards him,)
" clean this shoe." This unexpected reply turned the
laugh upon the citizen. Being desirous of recovering
himself in the opinion of the company, he asked him
to instruct him in the way to heaven. " Dost thou
indeed wish to be taught?" said Mr. Lay. " I do!"
said the citizen. " Then," said Mr. Lay, " do justice,
love mercy, and walk humbly with thy God."

He wrote a small treatise upon negro-slavery,
which lie brought to Dr. Franklin to be printed.
Upon looking over it, the Doctor told him that it
was not paged, and that there appeared Jo be no
order or arrangement in it. " It is no matter," said
Mi'. Lay, "print any part thou pleasest first." This
book contained many pious sentiments, and strong
expressions against negro slavery; but even the ad-
dress and skill of Dr. Franklin were not. sufficient to
connect its different parts together so as to render
it an agreeable or useful work. This book is in the
library of the city of Philadelphia.

Mr. Lay was extremely attentive to young people.
He took great pleasure in visiting schools, where lie
often preached to the youth. He frequently carried
a basket of religious books witli him, and distributed
them as prizes among the scholars.

He was fond of reading. In the print of him,
which is to be seen in many houses in Philadelphia,
he is represented with " Tryon on Happiness" in his
hand, a book which he valued very much, and which
he frequently carried with him in his excursions
from home.

He was kind and charitable to the poor, but had
no compassion for beggars. He used to say, " there

was no man or woman, who was able to go abroad
to beg, that was not able to earn four pence a day,
and this sum, he said, was enough to keep any per-
son above want or dependence in this country."

He was a severe enemy to idleness, insomuch that
when he could not employ himself out of doors, or
when he was tired of reading, he used to spend his
time in spinning. His common sitting-room was
hung witli skeins of thread, spun entirely by him-
self. All his clothes were of his own manufactory.

He was extremely temperate in his diet, living
chiefly upon vegetables. Turnips boiled, and after-
wards roasted, were his favourite dinner. His drink
was pure water. From a desire of imitating our Sa-
viour in every thing he once attempted to fast for
forty days. This experiment, it is said, had nearly
cost him his life. He was obliged to desist from it
long before the forty days were expired ; but the
fasting, it was said, so much debilitated his body as
to accelerate his death. He lived above eighty •
years, and died in his own house in Abington, about
thirty years ago.

In reviewing the history of this extraordinary
man, we cannot help absolving him of his weak-
nesses, when we contemplate his many active vir-
tues. He was the piioneer of that war, which has
since been carried on so successfully against the
commerce and slavery of the negroes. Perhaps the
turbulence and severity of his temper were neces-
sary to rouse the torpor of the human mind, at the
period in which he lived, to this interesting subject.
The meekness and gentleness of Anthony Benezet,
who completed what Mr. Lay began, would pro-
bably have been as insufficient for the work per-
formed by Mr. Lay, as the humble piety of De
Renty, or of Thomas A'Kempis, would have been to
have accomplished the works of the zealous Luther,
or the intrepid Knox, in the sixteenth century.

The success of Mr. La}-, in sowing the seeds of a
principle which bids fair to produce a revolution in
morals, commerce, and government, in the new and
in the old world, should teach the benefactors of
mankind not to despair, if they do not see the fruits
of their benevolent propositions, or undertakings,
during their lives. No one seed of truth or virtue
ever perished. "Wherever it may be sowed, or even
scattered, it will preserve and carry with it the
principle of life. Some of these seeds produce their
fruits in a short time, but the most valuable of them,
like the venerable oak, are centuries in growing;
but they are unlike the pride of the forest, as well
as all other vegetable productions, in being incapa-
ble of a decay. They exist and bloom for ever.
February 10th, 1790.

COLLEGE OF NEW JEKSEY.
In the division of the Presbyterian Church, con-
nected with the Whitefield revival or agitation,
which occurred in America in 1741, the future
education of the clergy became a matter of im-
portant consideration ; and New Jersey belonging
to the Synod of New York in the separation
from the Synod of Philadelphia, it was determined
to establish a seat of learning in the former state.
The religious education of the new Church party
had been more effectively than ostentatiously
provided for at the school established by the Rev.
William Tennent at Neshaminy, known as the
Log College, which had sent forth from its hum-
ble doorway several eminent divines and preach-
ers.* The decline of this seminary with the age

* Its history has been ivritten by Dr. Archibald Alexander.
"WillUun Tennent, Se-n'r, was a native of Ireland and belonged

COLLEGE OF NEW JERSEY.

271

of its founder, and the unfortunate expulsion of
the pious Brainerd from Yale, hastened the work
of preparation for the College of New Jersey.
A charter was obtained with difficulty in 1740,*
the peculiar religions interests of the applicants
being little regarded in New Jersey. Jonathan
Dickinson, a native of Massachusetts and gradu-
ate of Yale, acted as its first President, at Eliza-
bethtown, where he was settled as a clergyman
for a short time, till his death in 17-17, within a
year of the organization. He was a man of
ability as a preacher, and left a large number of
sermons and theological publications. A new
charter was now obtained from Governor Bel-
cher! in 1748, and the Rev. Aaron Burr was
chosen President. This pious man, the friend of
"Whitefield, and the son-in-law of Jonathan Ed-
wards, was the father of the subsequent unhappy
politician who bore his name, lie was born in
Connecticut in 1716, and arrived at the College
of New Jersey through his settlement as a cler-
gyman at Newark, where the College was held
during his life. He died in 1757, in which year
the institution was removed to Princeton. Burr's
character is spoken of with great admiration for
his energy in allairs, his happy temper and pulpit
eloquence.}: President Burr prepared a Latin

originally to the Episcopal Church. Whitefield visited his
school at Neshaminy in 1730, and speaks of "the place wherein
the young men study, in con tempt called the College." It was
a simple back-country structure i>f the log-cabin order.

* Hist. Sketch of the Origin of the College of New Jersey,
by Ashbel Green. Notes to. Discourses, 2S3.

t Jonathan Belcher was a man of spirit in the Colonial annals.
He was born in 1681, of a good family at Cambridge, Mass.,
was graduated at the College, travelled in Europe, and lived
at Boston as a merchant on his return, till he was appointed to
the Government of Massachusetts in 1730. He was a good
scholar. His frankness and energy caused his removal from
office, when the Government of New Jersey was given him,
where he lived ten years, dying in office in 1757. "His friend
Aaron Burr at Princeton preached bis sermon a few days only
before his own death.

X Burr is buried in the graveyard at Princeton, where his
son at last came to be laid beside him. The Latin inscription
on his monument is of more than usual eloquence. The ceno-
taphs at Princeton are noticeable in this particular.

Quasris Viator qualis quantusque fuit?

Perpaucis accipe.

Vir corporcparvo et tenui,

Studiis, vigiliis, assiduisque laboribus,

Macro.

Sagacitate, Perspicacitate, Agilita'.e,

Ac Solertia (si fas dieere),

Plusquam humana, pene

Angelica,

Animii ferine totus.

Omnigena Lileratuia instructus,

Theologia pnestantior :

Concionator volubilis, suavis et suadus :

Orator faeundus.

Moiibus facilis, candidus et jueumlns,

Vita egregie liberalis ac beneficus :

Supra vero omnia emicaerunt

Pietas et Benevoleotia.

Sed ah ! quanta et quota Ingenii,

Industrial, Prudentise, Patientiie,

Caiterarumque omnium Virtutnm

Exemplar! a,

Marmoris sepulclualis August ia

Reticebit.

Multum desideratus, multum

Dilectus,

Human! generis Delieia1.

0! infandum sni Desiderium,

Gemit Ecclcsia. plorat

Academia:

At Ccelum plaudit, dum ille

Ingreditur

In Gaudium Domini

Dulce loqucntis,
Euge bone et fidelts _\
Serve! , ,

AM Viator tuam rospice Bta

grammar, published in New York in 1752, which
was u-edin the College and known as the." New-
ark Grammar ;" and as a specimen of his La-
tinity there is extant in manuscript an oration in
that language which he delivered in Newark be-
fore the Board of Trustees on the death of Dr.
Philip Doddridge, who had been a friend of the
College.* The Eulogium on his Death, by Wil-
liam Livingston, celebrates his virtues and acute-
ness with animated panegyric.t

Burr was succeeded by the eminent metaphysi-
cian, Jonathan Edwards, who arrived from Stock-
bridge in 1758, and whose death occurred, when
he had scarcely entered upon his new duties, but
a few months later. The Rev. Samuel Davies, a
native of Pennsylvania, was called from Virginia,
where he had passed a distinguished career as a
faithful and eloquent preacher, to the post in 1758.
He had previously visited England with the Rev.
Gilbert Tennent,! in a successful tour for contribu-
tions. The College building erected in 1756 with
the funds thus collected, was at first to be called
Belcher Hall, but the "Governor, modestly setting
aside his own claims, gave it the name of Nassau
Hall, in honor of the great Protestant hero Wil-
liam III. It has been said to have been the best
college structure in its time in the country, and
the largest single edifice in the colonies.§ De-
clining this first appointment Davies was elected
again in 1759, when he left Hanover, where his
intluence was very great, and entered upon the
duties of the Presidency, which he held till his
death, only a year and a half after, in 1701, at
the early age of thirty-six. His reputation as an
ardent missionary and zealous preacher was very
great, and his personal character greatly strength-
ened the college. His early discourses on the
Expedition of Braddock, in a note to one of which
in August, 1755, entitled u Religion and Patriot-
ism the Constituents of a Good Soldier," he pro-
phetically "points out to the public that heroic
youth, Col. Washington, whom I cannot but hope
Providence has hitherto preserved in so signal a
manner for some important service to his country,11
and a third addressed to the Militia of Hanover

*Dr. J. F. Stearns's Hist. Discourse relating to the First Pres-
byterian Church in Newark, p. 1*8. There are numerous dis-
tinct ami forcible notices of Burr in this book.

t A Funeral Eulogium on the Reverend Mr. Aaron Burr,
late President of the "College of New Jersey, by William Liv-
ingston, Esq.

Of comfort no man speak !
Let's talk of graves, and worms, and epitaphs,
Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes,
Write sorrow in the bosom of the earth. Siiaks,

Stat sua euique dies; breve et irreparabile tempus
Omnibus est vita? : sed famam cxtcudere factis,
Hoc virtutis opus.

New York, Printed: Boston; Reprinted by Green and Rus-
sell in Queen street, for J. Winter, iu Union-street 175$. 4to.
pp. 23.

t Tennent was of much celebrity in his day ns a follower of
Whitefield. He affected some eccentricity in his preaching,
entering the pulpit on liis New England tour in an overcoat
bound with a leathern girdle, and with long hair. His elo-
quence was in the line of the terrific. Whitefield, who was
with Tennent in New York in 1739, has described his preach-
ing: " never before heard I such a searching sermon. He went
to the bottom, indeed, and did not d;mb with untempered mor-
tar. He is 'a son of thunder,' and does not regard the face of
man." With his energy he sometimes forgot courtesy and
Christian humility, and was very abusive. Dr. Alexander fur-
nishes a list of his publications. — History of the Log College,
91-94.

§ Dr. Jns. W. Alexander's MS. Centennial Discourse at
Princeton, 1S46.

272

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Co., at a general muster in May, 1759, when his
eloquence at once filled the ranks, have connected
his name with the public history of his country.
He published numerous sermons, a collection of
■which in three volnmes " on the most useful and
important subjects" has been much read. His
style was warm and passionate.

Davies was not only an energetic declaimer of
poetic prose, but wrote verses of considerable ex-
cellence. His elegy on the death of his old pre-
ceptor, Samuel Blair,* with its warmth of feeling
shows a modern taste in composition which may
be contrasted with the cramped effusions of a simi-
lar character of which we have given specimens
in the old Puritan literature.

Blair is no more — then this poor world has

lost
As rich a jewel as her stores could boast;
Heaven, in just vengeance, has recalled again,
Its faithful envoy, from the sons of men,
Advanced him from his pious toils below,
In raptures there, in kindred plains to glow.

0 had not the mournful news divulged,
My mind had still the pleasing dream indulged —
Still fancied Blair, with health and vigor blessed,
With some grand purpose laboring in his breast.
In studious thought, pursuing truth divine,
Till the full demonstration round him shine;
Or, from the sacred desk, proclaiming loud,
His Master's message, to the attentive crowd,
While heavenly truth with bright conviction glares,
And coward error shrinks, and disappears;
While quick remorse, the hardy sinner feels,
And Calv'ry's balm, the bleeding conscience heals. f

In 1769, the Rev. Dr. Thomas Gibbons, who
was the London editor of Davies's Sermons, pub-
lished a Collection of Hymns in which there are
fifteen assigned to Davies. These were found
among the manuscripts of the latter. Two of
them may be quoted as well for their historical
as their devotional interest.

NATIONAL JUDGMENTS DEr-EECATEP, AND NATIONAL JIEECTES
PLEADED.^

While o'er our guilty land, 0 Lord,
We view the terrors of thy sword ;
While heav'n its fruitful sliow'rs denies,
And nature round us fades and dies ;

* Samuel Blair was born in Ireland, came to America as a
youth, and was educated at the Log College. He was settled
as a preacher at Shrewsbury, New Jersey, and in New Lon-
donderry, or Fogg's Manor, in Pennsylvania, where lie formed
a classical school in which Davies, the Rev. John Eodgers, and
other divines, were educated. He died young, at 1 he age of
thirty-nine. His tomb at Fogg's Manor bears the inscription —

In yonder sacred house I spent my breath,-
Now sileiit, mouldering, here I lie in death;
These lips shall wake aiid yet declare,
A dread amen to truths they published there.

John Blair, his brother, was Professor of Divinity at the College
of New Jersey, 17G7 to 1769. One of his sisters married the
Kev. Robert Smith of Pequea, the father of President Smith of
the College, of John Blair Smith, and of the Rev. William
Smith.

t We are indebted for this extract to Dr. Alexander's Log
College, as we are for the knowledge of the hymns which' fol-
low, to his son, Dr. James W. Alexander. Davies's elegy was
published in a volume of the writings of the Rev. Samuel Blair,
Philadelphia, 1754.

% This and the following Hymn were printed by the Author,
with two Discourses on Amos iii. 1-6. entitled Virginia's.Zlo"?!-
ger and Iirtnedy^niX occasioned by the severe Drought in sun-
dry Parts of that Country, and the defeat of General Brad-
doek, 1756.— Gibbon's note.

While clouds collecting o'er our head
Seem eharg'd with wrath to smite us dead,
Oh! whither shall the helpless fly ?
To whom but thee direct our cry ?

m.

The helpless sinner's cries and tears
Are grown familiar to thine ears;
Oft has thy mercy sent relief,
When all was fear and hopeless grief:

rv.
On thee our guardian God we call,
Before thy throne of grace we fall ;
And is there no deliv'rance there ?
And must we perish in despair ?

v.
See, we repent, we weep, we mourn,
To our forsaken God we turn ;
0 spare our guilty country, spare
The church which thou hast jilanted here !

VI.

Revive our with'ring fields with rain, ,

Let peace compose our land again,
Silence the horrid noise of war!
0 spare a guilty people, spare !

vn.

We plead tliy grace, indulgent God,
We plead thy Son's atoning blood,
We plead thy gracious promises,
And are they unavailing pleas?

vm.

These pleas, by faith urg'd at thy throne.
Have brought ten thousand blessings down
On guilty lands in helpless woe;
Let them prevail to save us too !

ON THE SAME,

I.

While various rumours spread abroad,
And hold our souls in dread suspense,

We look, we fly to thee our God ;
Our refuge is thy Providence.

it.
This wilderness, so long untill'd,

An hideous waste of barren ground,
Thy care has made a fruitful field,

With peace and plenty richly erown'd.

in.
Thy Gospel spreads an heav'nly day

Throughout this once benighted land,
A Land once wild with beasts of prey,

By impious heathen rites profan'd ;

IV.

Thy Gospel, like a gen'rous vine,
Its branches wide began to spread,

Refresh'd our souls with heav'nly wine,
And bless'd us with its cooling shade ;

A:id shall these mercies now remove ?

SJltall peace and plenty fly away?
The laud, that Ilenv'n did thus improve,

Wil.' Heav'n give up an helpless Prey?

VI.

0 must we bid our God adieu?

And must the Gospel take its flight?
0 shall r L children never view

The 'flniejfngs of that heav'nly light?

COLLEGE OF NEW JERSEY.

Forbid it, Lord ; with arms of faith

We'll holil thee fast, and thou slialt stay

We'll cry while we have life or breath,
Our God, do not depart away I

VIII.

If broken hearts and weeping eyes
Can find acceptance at thy throne,

Lo, here they are; this sacrifice

Tliou wilt accept thro' Christ thy Son.

The Rev. Samuel Finley succeeded to the Pre-
sidency at Princeton. He was of Irish birth,
coming early to America, had taken part in the
White-field revival, and was settled as a clergyman
at Nottingham in Maryland for seventeen years,
when he was called to the office. Ho instituted
an academy at Nottingham, where his scholar-
ship had brought around him a number of pupils
who afterwards became men of distinction.* Fin-
ley was an assiduous College President, and when,

as with his predecessors, his term of office was
briefly closed, his remains were carried to his grave
at Philadelphia where he died, borne, according
to his request, by eight members of the senior
class of the College of New Jersey.

Finley's death occurred in 1766, when Dr.
Witherspoon was invited to the Presidency from
Scotland. He came and was inaugurated in 1768.
He enlarged the field of the college by promoting
the study of mathematics and mental philosophy.
During the Revolution the President was trans-
ferred in Congress to a wider sphere.

Immediately after the battle of Princeton, in
1777, the College became the scene of a conflict
between its British occupants and a portion of the
army of Washington. In the chapel iii Nassau Hall
hung at this time a portrait of George II., which
was destroyed by an American cannon-shot parsing
through the canvas. Within the same frame now
hangs a portrait of Washington, painted by Peale,
and purchased with the fifty guineas which were
presented to the College by the General after the
conflict. The British plundered the library. Some
of the books were afterwards found in North Caro-
lina, left there by the troops of Cornwallis.*

There is a picture of the College in the opening

* Ashbel Green's Memoirs, pp. 136, 144. This old North
College, the original Nassau Hall, which had thus suffered the
attack of the troops, was nearly destroy* d by fire in 1812.
Again, in 1S55, on the evening of March 9 it was entirely
burnt, the walls only being left standing. The pictures in the
College Gallery were fortunately preserved.
VOL. I. — 18

days of the Revolution, by John Adams, in his diary
of the date of Aug. 26, 1774, when the young law-
yer was on his way to the Continental Congress.

The college is conveniently constructed; instead
of entries across the building, the entries are from
end to end, and the chambers are on each side of
the entries. There are such entries, one above
another, in every story; each chamber hns three
windows, two Btudies with one window in ench, and
one window between the studies to enlighten the
chamber. Mr. Euston, the Professor of Mathematics
and Natural Philosophy, showed us the library; it
is not large, but, has some good books. He then led
us into the apparatus ; here we saw a most beauti-
ful machine — an orrery or planetarium, constructed
by Mr. Rittenhouse of Philadelphia. By this time
the bell rang for prayers; we went into the chapel;
the President soon came in. and we attended. The
scholars sing as badly as the Presbyterians at New
York, After prayers the President attended us to
the balcony of the college, where we have a pros-
pect of a horizon of about eighty miles' diameter.

On the establishment of peace, Dr. Samuel
Stanhope Smith, the vice-president, became the
acting governor of the College, and on the death
of Witherspoon in 1794, its head. He held the

* "His method of instruction in the Latin anil Greek lan-
guages was thorough and accurate. Dr. Finley boarded most
of the scholars in his own house, and when they were at meals
he was in the habit of relaxing from the severity of the peda-
gogue, and indulging in facetious remarks, saying that nothing
more helped digestion than a hearty laugh. His own temper
was remarkably benignant and sweet, and his manners affable
and polite.'' — Alexander's Log College, p. 306.

274

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

position until he resigned it, from the infirmities
of age, in 1812. •

Samuel Stanhope Smith, "whose accomplish-
ments were the delight of the lust generation of
scholars and divines, was the son ot a minister in
Pennsylvania, Br. Robert Smith, of Scoto-Irish
descent, who can.e to this country in his child-
hood,— a man oi' education ami character. Two
erf his sons became quite noted in the literary and
religious affairs of America : John Llair Smith, an
eloquent preacher in Virginia, and the first presi-
dent of Union College ; and Samuel Stanbope
Smith, the president of Princeton. The latter
was born at Pequea, Lancaster county, Pennsyl-
vania, the seat of his father's pastoral duties,
March 16, 1750; studied at Princeton; was the
first head of the Presbyterian Theological College
of Hampden Sidney, in Viiginia; was called in
1799 to the chair of moral philosophy at Prince-
ton, and succeeded Witherspoon, his father-in-law,
in the presidency, on his death in 1794. He re-
signed this office on account of ill health in 1812.
He died August 21, 1819.

The best known of bis literary productions is
his Essay on the Causes of the Variety of Com-
plexion and Figure in the Human Species, which
he published in 1788, and a second edition of
which, enlarged with a reply to his English
critic, Charles White, and some strictures on
Lord Karnes's Discourse on the Original Diversity
of Mankind, appeared in 1810. Tbe argument
of this work is, a defence of tbe unity of the race,
accounting for the varieties by the influences of
climate, of the state of society, and tbe manner of
living. Though superseded by other works in
tbe great advance of the knowledge of facts and
study of Ethnology, this work may still be read
with interest for the amenity of its style and the
ingenuity of its views.

The late Dr. Alexander, in his memoirs, lias
left us a distinct account of the impression of
President Smith upon his contemporaries. He
describes his appearance at Prineeton in 1801 :
"Certainly, viewing him as in his meridian, I
have never seen his equal in elegance of person
and manners. Dignity and winning grace were
remarkably united in his expressive countenance.
His large blue eye hail a penetration which com-
manded the respect of all beholders. Notwith-
standing the want of health, his cheek had a
bright rosy tint, and his smile lighted up the
whole face. The tones of his elocution had a
thrilling peculiarity, and this was more remarka-
ble in his preaching, where it is well known that
he imitated the elaborate polish and satirical
glow of the French school.''*

Ashbel Green, who succeeded to President
Smith, was a native of New Jersey, horn at
Hanover, July 6, 1702. He was a graduate of
the College of 1783; entered the ministry; was
professor of mathematics and natural philosophy
in Princeton from 1785 to 1787 ; was chaplain
to Congress in Philadelphia from 1792 to 1800, a
position which brought him into relation with
Washington, whom he had seen in the field in his

* The Life of Archibald Alexander, p 2f5. Dr. James W.
Alexander notices Smith's bearing at Princeton, and his
French style, '■ in which endeavor his most celebrated pupil
was the Itev. Dr. Henry Kollock. one of the most ornate yet
vehement orators whoih our country has produced." lb. p. 309.

early militia days in New Jersey, and the best
society of the day ; was e ected to the presidency
of the College of New Jersey in 1812, which he
occupied for ten years, — the marked incidents of
his career being the great insubordination and re-
vival ; on his retirement, conducting a Pre>byte-
rian religious journal, the Christian Advocate, in
Philadelphia, for twelve years; in his subset] tunt
leisure preparing amemoir of Witherspoon, which
is still in manuscript; and at the age of tighty-
two commencing an autobiography, which he
continued to write till within two years of his
death, which occurred in his eighty-sixth year,
May 19, 1848. His chief publications are the
periodical which we have mentioned, his posthu-
mous autobiography, and a collectim of his dis-
courses, with an appendix, containing among
other articles a history of his college, and
tributes to its presidents, which appeared in
Philadelphia in 1822. He had been also engaged
in revising for the American market the articles
in Eees's and tin. Edinburgh Encyclopaedias, for
which, he tells us, he received as compensation a
set of the works. His autobiography ci nlains
much devotional matter, a few anecdotes of
Washington and ins early "court" days, and
an interesting diary of a tour which he made into
New England in the summer of 1791* He was
a polished writer. His portrait shows a fine
dark eye, which, though he was an amiable man,
contributed to the severity of bis countenance,
according to the college reputation of his austere
appearance.f

Dr. Green was succeeded in the year 1823 1 yT the
Eev. James Carnahan, D.D., who held the chair
more than thirty years; probably the period most
marked by prosperity ; which it has largely e wed
to tbe fidelity, diligence, wisdom, and txem] lary
gentleness of this excellent man. President Car-
naban is reputed an excellent classical scholar,
and a sound leather of philosophy and religion.
Less brilliant than his predecessors, he brought to
the service erf education a balance and constancy
of solid qualities, and an administrative talent in
finance which, joined to proverbial truth and
uprightness, have made his green old age pecu-
liarly honorable. His agreeable retirement is
within sight of the Tusculum of Witherspoon,

Tbe tenth president is the Eev. John Maclean,
D.D., who was inaugurated in 1854. The pre-
sent condition of Princeton College is prosperous
in a high degree. In the departments of Mathe-
matics and Physical Science, it has acquired some
iclat from the methods and labors of Professor
Henry, now of the Smithsonian Institution, but
again professor elect in the college, and the
eminent astronomer, Stephen Alexander. The
beauty of the grounds, presenting a certain clois-
tered shadiness, reminding one e>f certain scenes
in Oxford, together with a position midway be-
tween tbe great cities, continues to make this a
favorite re-ort. The entire number of alumni
has been 3,390, of whom 2,023 are now living.
Among its graduates, besides some named above,

* It was published with a continuation after his death : —
"The Life of Ashbel Green, V. D. M., berun to be written by
himself in his S2d year, and continued till his Mih. Pr. pared
for the press, at the authors request, by Joseph II. Jones.
New York. 1S49."

t Parish and other Pencilliugs, by Kirwan, p. 135.

JOHN WITHERSPOON.

275

are the two Richard Stocktons, President Reed
of Pa.', Dr. Benjamin Rush, William Patterson,
Tapping Reeve, Francis Ilopkinson, David Ram-
say, Oliver Ellsworth, Dr. Samuel Spring, Pier-
pont Edwards, Hugh H. Braekenridge, James
Madison, Pres. of U. S., Aaron Bnrr, Henry Lee,
Morgan Lewis, Edward Livingston, John Ser-
geant, Samuel L. Southard, and Theodore Freling-
huysen.

Of the old professors in this institution, Dr.
John Maclean was one of the most distinguished.
He rilled the chairs of Chemistry and Natural
History, and of Mathematics and Natural Philoso-
phy, with much distinction, from 1795 to 1812.
He was a native of Scotland, and had studied
the sciences in Paris. Dr. Archibald Alexander
speaks of him as " the soul of the Faculty " at
Princeton, and records his claim as "one of
the first to reproduce in America the views of the
new French school in Chemistry, a subject on
which he waged a successful war with Dr.
Priestley, the great champion for phlogiston.''*

Walter Minto was professor in the College of
New Jersey from 1787 to 1796. He was a
Scotchman of good family and great science.
His early life had been eventful ; for after his
university curriculum, he became tutor of the
two sons of the Hon. George Johnstone, M.P.,
well known in Jamaica, and as Commissioner to
this country in 1778; and with them he travelled
over much of Europe, and lived awhile at Pisa.
Here he became acquainted with Dr. Slop, the
astronomer, and through him with the then
novel applications of the higher analysis to the
heavenly motions. Quarrelling with the boys
and their father, he remained some years at Pisa,
and never afterwards redded in his native
country. His only publication was an Inaugu-
ral Address on the Mathematical Sciences ; but
the college library contains some careful and
curious MSS. on Mathematical Analysis.t

Among the benefactors of the institution have
been Col. Henry Rutgers and his family, of New
York ; Elias Boudinot, who founded a cabinet
of Natural History, and bequeathed the sum of
eight thousand dollars and four thousand acres of
land; and Dr. David Hosack, one of its alumni,
who gave a valuable mineralogical cabinet. In
the Philosophic Hall there are preserved the
electrical machine of Franklin, and the orrery of
Rittenhou.-.e.

JOHN WITIIERSPOON.

One of the happiest instances of sterling charac-
ter transplanted from the old world to bear genial
fruit in the new, at the period of the Revolution,
was John Witherspoon, President of the College of
New Jersey, and signer of the Declaration of Inde-
pendence. He was a man of native force and vigor,
which were not overlaid by education or society,
though no one knew better how to appreciate both.
He had good blood in his veins for the reforma-
tion of abuses, since he was lineally descended from
old John Knox by his daughter Elizabeth. His
father was minister of the parish of Yester, near
Edinburgh, where the son was born February 5,

* Lire of A. Alexander, 2BT.

t Fur a memoir of Dr. Minto see Princeton Majrazino, vol.
1. 53-47.

1722. At fourteen he entered the University of
Edinburgh, where he remained employed in its
studies till he was twenty-one, when he was
licensed as a preacher. He declined dependence
upon his father as his assistant, and became set-
tled at Beith, in the west of Scotland. While he
was at this parish, the Pretender landed in Scut-
land. Witherspoon took the part of his country,
and stimulated the raising of a corps of militia,
of which he put himself at the head, and marched
to Glasgow. He was taken ' prisoner at the
battle of Falkirk, and imprisoned in Doune Castle,
where he remained until after the battle of Cul-
loden; so that he had already acted the patriotic
part in the old country* which he was not back-
ward in repeating in America. In an effort to
escape from the battlements of the castle in which
he was imprisoned, with a party of seven, by a
rope from the wall, he fortunately drew the lot
for the last. Four of the company got safely
down; the rope broke with the fifth, and the
sixth was much injured, when Witherspoon gave
up the attempt.

Leaving Beith, he became minister in Paisley,
whence he was called to the presidency of the
college at Princeton, in New Jersey, a post which
he accepted, though a rich old bachelor friend
offered to make him his heir to a large property
if he would remain in Scotland. Benjamin Rush,
then a young student at Edinburgh, was dele-
gated by the college, of which he was an alumnus,
to urge his coming to America. His tastes and
principles led him in search of a simpler and more
earne-t religious society than presented itself at
that time in Scotland, the features of which he
set forth with strength and humor in a work,
published while he was at Paisley, entitled Eccle-
siastical Characteristics,^ and which was admired
by Warburton. It was levelled at the moderate
party, at the head of whom stood Dr. Robertson,
the historian. It is in a series of maxims, ironi-
cally bandied, exposing the worldliness of a por-
tion of the clergy — a paragraph of which will
show his delicate raillery. Pie is rebuking the
indifference as to religious services : —

Sometimes, indeed, it may happen, by a concur-
rence of circumstances, that one of us may, at bed-
time, be unequally yoked with an orthodox brother,
who may propose a little unseasonable devotion be-
tween ourselves, before we lie down to sleep: but
there are twenty ways of throwing cold water upon
such a motion ; or, if it should be insisted upon, I
could recommend a moderate way of complying with
it, from the example of one of our friends, who, on a
like occasion, yielded so far, that he stood up at the
back of a chair, and said : " 0 Lord, we thank thee
for Mr. Bayle's Dictionary. Amen." This was so
far from spoiling good company, that it contributed
wonderfully to promote social mirth, and sweetened
the young men in a most agreeable manner for their
rest.f

The irony of the Characteristics appears to
have been misunderstood in some quarters ; at
any rate, it drew from the writer A Serious

* Blackwood's Magazine, ii. 433.

t Ecclesiastical Characteristics: or, the Arcana of Church
Policy — beiriL' an Humble Attempt to open the Mystery of
Moderation, likewise is shewn a plain and easy way of attain-
ing to the character of a Moderate Man, as at present in repute
in the Church of Scotland.

276

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

Apology for the Ecclesiastical Characteristics,
by the real Author of that Performance, in which
the use of satire of that kind is defended, and its
application in the particular instance enforced.
He instances passages of irony from the sacred
•writings, and " from the most grave and venera-
ble of the fathers," and urges the necessity of
making some provision for the levity and sloth
of the readers of the day. Another motive was
to meet the worldliness of the times on its own
terms: —

The great patron and advocate for these was Lord
Shaftesbury, one of whose leading principles it is,
that " Ridicule is the test of truth." This principle
of his had been adopted by many of the clergy ; and
there is hardly any man conversant in the literary
world, who has not heard it a thousand times de-
fended in Conversation. I was therefore willing to
try how they themselves could stand the edge of
this weapon ; hoping, that if it did not eo?iviiice
them of the folly of the other parts of their conduct,
it might at least put them out of conceit with this
particular opinion. The last of these I do really
think the publication of the Characteristics has in
a great measure effected ; at least within my narrow
sphere of conversation. It is but seldom we now
hear it pretended, that ridicule is the test of truth.
If they have not renounced this opinion, they at
least keep it more to themselves, and are less inso-
lent upon it in their treatment of others.

He takes care, however, to state that he does
not adopt the test of ridicule as a criterion of
what is true and excellent.

Another apologue, somewhat similar in idea to
the Characteristics, was his History of a Corpora-
tion of Servants, discovered a few years ago in
the interior parts of South America, containing
some very Surprising Events and Extraordinary
Characters, which is a narrative, under a plea-
sant disguise, of the Church History of Great
Britain.

His Serious Enquiry into the Kature and
Effects of the Stage originated with the perform-
ance, in Edinburgh, of Douglas, written by the
clergyman Home.*

Witherspoon arrived in America, and was
inaugurated president at Princeton, August 17,
1768. He improved the finances of the institu-
tion, and extended its literary and philosophical
instruction by his courses on Moral Philosophy
and Rhetoric, in which he anticipated the pub-
lished works of Reid and Blair. These lectures
are included in his works, and are highly finished
productions for their day, of this species of writ-
ing.

On the opening of the war, the college, on
the highroad of hostilities, was broken up for the
time, when Witherspoon was elected delegate to
the Convention of New Jersey for the formation
of a state constitution, and being sent by the
Provincial Congress to the General Congress at
Philadelphia, took his seat in time to sign the
Declaration of Independence. To a member of
Congress, who said that the country was not

* Witherspoon's Serious Inquiry into the Nature and Effects
of the Stage, and a Letter respecting Play Actors, ■with a Ser-
mon by Dr. Samuel Miller, on the Burning of the Theatre at
Richmond, with an Introductory Address, were published in
a suiall volume, by Whiting & Watson, New York, 1S12.

ripe for such a declaration, he replied, " In my
judgment, sir, we are not only ripe but rotten."
He attended Congress with exemplary punctuality
throughout the war, and was actively engaged in
its committees. He was a member of the Secret
Committee and of the Board of War, in which
latter capacity he brought before Congress a
report respecting the cruel treatment of prisoners
by the British in New York, and was one of a
committee who prepared a protest on the subject.
He visited the camp at head-quarters, to improve
the state of the troops, and was sent to the East
to assist in the adjustment of the New Hampshire
grants. He wrote the Congressional addresses
to the people, recommending fasts and Thoughts
on American Liberty, and several war topics in the
newspapers. He was thoroughly identified with
the American cause. " No man," we quote the
words of Dr. J. W. Alexander in his Princeton
Address, " thinks of Witherspoon as a Briton,
but as an American of the Americans: as the
friend of Stockton, the counsellor of Morris, the
correspondent of Washington, the rival of Frank-
lin in his sagacity, and of Reed in his resolution ;
one of the boldest in that Declaration of Indepen-
dence, and one of the most revered in the debates
of the Congre.-s."*

Witherspoon's Essay on Money was a repro-
duction of his speeches in Congress, where he op-
posed the repeated issues of paper currency. His
memory was very great; he carefully matured
his speech, and lay in wait with it in his mind
till opportunity arose, when he prefaced it with
extempore remarks, and surprised his audience
by his fulness and method. In 1781 he wrote
several periodical essays on social and literary
topics, the corruptions of languages and other
matters, with the title, TJie Druid.

On the revival of the college it was mainly left
in the hands of his son-in-law, Dr. Samuel Stan-
hope Smith, who succeeded him in the office of
President at his death. In 1783 he was induced
to visit England for the purpose of collecting
funds for the institution ; a rather early applica-
tion after the war, which was unsuccessful. He
returned the next 3*ear. Some time afterwards,
when he was about seventy, he occasioned much
comment among Ids friends by marrying a lady
of twenty-three.t He married his first wife in
Scotland, by whom he had a son who became a
major in the Revolutionary army, and was killed
at the battle of Germantown. Ramsay, the his-
torian, married his daughter. He resided at a
country-seat near Princeton, to which he gave the
name of Tusculum. Within the last two years
of his life he was afflicted with blindness. He
died, Nov. 15, 1794.

His portrait by Pine shows a fine, manly coun-

i tenance. His personal appearance, being six feet
in height, was impressive, and he has been in this

; respect compared with Washington. He spoke
with a strong Scottish accent. His sermons,

* J. W. Alexanders MS. Centennial Address at Princeton.

+ Ashbel Green has this entry in his Diary, July 29, 1791 : —
M Spent this day at Princeton. After making several calls, I
went with Dr. 'Smith and Dr. Stockton to Tusculum. in the
afternoon, to take tea with Dr. Witherspoon, and to pay my
respects to his young wife. I had heard her represented as
verv handsome. She is comely; but to my apprehension,
nothing more. The Doctor treated us with great politeness."

JOHN WITHERSPOON'.

277

which were evangelical, simple" in matter and
methodical in arrangement, were well delivered,
though a dizziness to which he was subject re-
strained his expression of emotion. " He had a
small voice," Ashbel Green tells us, " and used
but little gesture in the pulpit, but his utterance
was very distinct and articulate ; and his whole
manner serious and solemn." While sitting in
Congress he always wore his clerical dress. In
his general course, he has the merit of having
equally avoided flattery and scandal. His sa-
gacity was shown in the old Continental Con-
egress, when he earnestly opposed the appointment
"of Thomas Paine as Secretary to the Committee
of Foreign Affairs, whom he already distrusted,
though fresh in the success of the " Crisis."* A
turn of his self-reliant character is given in his
remark to Braekenridge, afterwards the witty
judge, then a student at Princeton, who, com-
plaining of his straitened fortunes, quoted the line
of Juvenal —

Hand facile emergunt quorum virtutibus obstat
Res angusta dorni.

" There yon are wrong, young man," said the
Doctor; "it is only your res-angvsta-domi men
that do emerge.1'!

Witherspoon was never deficient in ardor when
it was properly called for ; at other times he was
not lightly to be moved from his balance. Gray-
don, in his memoirs, tells a story of a cool reception
of an effort which he made with him for the
liberation of one of his Scottish countrymen, a
young officer who had got into jail through a
street encounter with the Whigs of the day.
Witherspoon was then member of Congress, and
had some power in the matter. Graydon met him
at dinner, and made his appeal. " I counted," he

says, " something upon the national spirit, sup-
posed to be so prevalent among North Britons;
and yet more, upon the circumstance of knowing
from Dunlap and two other young Scotchmen, his
fellow prisoners, that Doctor Witherspoon had
been well acquainted with their families. I did not
find, however, that the Doctor was much melted
to compassion for the mishap of his countryman,
as he contented himself with coldly observing, that
if I could suggest any substantial ground for him
to proceed upon, he would do what he could for
the young man. It appeared to me, that enough
had been suggested, by my simple relation of the
facts ; and I had nothing more to offer. But
whether or not my application was of any benefit
to its object, my presentation of the laddies to the
recollection of the Doctor, seemed to have some-
thing of national interest in it; and had the effect
to incite him to a shrewd remark, according to his
manner. He told me he had seen the young meu
soon after they had been taken, and was sur-
prised to find one of them, whose name I forget,
so much of a cub. His father, said he, was a
very sprightly fellow, when I knew him. This
lad is the fruit of a second marriage ; and I im-
mediately concluded, when I saw him, said the
Doctor, that Jemrriey, or Sawney something, men-
tioning the father's name, had taken some clumsy
girl to wife for the sake of a fortune."*

Dr. Ashbel Green give? an account of his pas-
sage with Governor Franklin in Congress: — "Dr.
Witherspoon was a member of the Provincial
Congress with my father, when Governor Frank-
lin was brought before it, under a military guard.
The governor treated the whole Congress with
marked indignity, refused to answer any questions
that were put to him, represented it as a lawless
assembly, composed of ignorant and vulgar men,
utterty incapable of devising anything for the
public good, and who had rashly subjected them-
selves to the charge and deserved punishment of
rebellion. When he finished his tirade of abuse,
Dr. Witherspoon rose and let loose upon him a
copious stream of that irony and sarcasm which
he always had at command ; and in which he did
not hesitate to allude to the governor's illegitimate
origin, and to his entire want, in his early train-
ing, of all scientific and liberal knowledge. At
length he concluded, nearly, if not exactly, in
these words — 'On the whole, Mr. President, I
think that Governor Franklin has made us a
speech every way worthy of his exalted birth and
refined education.' "t

When General James Wilkinson made his tardy
appearance on the floor of Congress with the
standards which he had been delegated to carry
there by General Gates after the victory of Sara-
toga, it was moved by a member to honor the
laggard messenger with a costly sword, when
Witherspoon rose and proposed, that in place of
a sword lie should bo presented with a pair of
golden spurs. {

At his death his eulogy was pronounced by Dr.
John Rodgers of New York, and his works were
collected in 1802 at Philadelphia, in four octavo
volumes.

* John Adams's Autobiography, Works, ii. 507.
t Biog. Notice of 11. H. Brackenrid-re. Modern Chivalry.
1646. VoL ii. 158.

* Graydon's Memoirs, pp. 30G-7.

t Life of Green, p. 61.

i Sanderson's Biog. of the Signers, v. 180.

278

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

MAXIM V. — FROM THE CHARACTERISTICS.

A minuter must endeavor to acquire as great a degree
of politeness, in his carriage and behavior, and to
catch as much of the air and manner of a fine gen-
tleman, as possibly he can.

This ia usually a distinguishing mark between the
moderate and the orthodox; and how much we
have the advantage in it is extremely obvious.
Good manners is undoubtedly the most excellent
of all accomplishments, and in some measure supplies
the place of them all when they are wanting. And
surely nothing can be more necessary to, or more
ornamental and becomii g in a minister: it gains
him easy access into the world, and frees him from
that rigid seventy which renders many of them 60
odious a;id detestable to the polite part of it. In
former times, ministers were so monkish and recluse,
for ordinary, and so formal when they did happen
to appear, that a!l the jovial part of mankind, parti-
ctilaily rakes and libertines, shunned and fled from
them ; or, when unavoidably thrown into their coin-
pa y, were constrained, and had no kind of confi-
dence to repose in them : whereas now, let a
moderate, modern, well-bred minister go into pro-
miscuous company, they stand in no manner of awe,
and will even swear with all imaginable liberty.
This gives the minister an oppoitui.ity of under-
stand] g their character, and of perhaps sometimes
reasoning in an easy and genteel manner against
swearing. This, though indeed it seldom reforms
them, yet it is as seldom taken amiss; which shows
the counsel to have been administered with pru-
dence.

How is it possible that a minister can understand
wickedness, unless he either practises it himself (but
much of that will not yet pass in the world) or
allows the wicked to be bold in his presence? To
do otherwise, would be to do in practice what I
have known narrow-minded bigoted students do
as to speculation, viz. avoid reading their adver-
saries' books because they were erroneous; whereas
it is evident no error can be refuted till it be under-
stood.

The setting the different characters of ministers in
immediate opposition, will put this matter past all
doubt, as the sun of truth rising upon the stars of
error, darkens and makes them to disappear. Some
there are, who may be easily known to be ministers
by their very dress, their grave demure looks, and
their confined precise conversation. How contempt-
ible is this! and how like to some of the meanest
employments among us ; as sailors, who are known
by their rolling walk, and taylors, by the shivering
shrug of their shoulders! But our truly accom-
plished clergy put off so entirely everything that is
peculiar to their profession, that were you to see
them in the streets, meet with them at a visit, or
spend an evening with them in a tavern, you would
not once suspect them for men of that character.
Agreeably to this, 1 remember an excellent thing
said by a gentleman, in commendation of a minister,
that " he had nothing at all of the clergyman about
im.

I shall have done with this maxim, when I have
given my advice as to the method of attaining to it;
which is, That students, probationers, and young
clergymen, while their bodies and minds are yet
flexible, should converse, and keep company, as
much as may be, with officers of the army under
five and twenty, of whom there are no small num-
ber in the nation, and with young gentlemen of for-
tune, particularly such as, by the earl}' and happy
death of their parents, have come to their estates
before they arrived at the years of majority.
Scarce one of these but is a noble pattern to form

! upon; for they have had the opportunity of follow-
i ing nature, which is the all-comprehensive rule of
| the ancients, and of acquiring a free manner of
I thinking, speaking, and acting, without either the
i pedantry of learning, or the stiffness contracted by
j a strict adherence to the maxims of worldly pru-
j dence.

After all, I believe I might have spared myself
j the trouble of inserting this maxim, the present ris-
[ ing generation being of themselves sufficiently dis-
i posed to observe it. This I reckon they have either
t constitutionally, or perhaps have learned it from the
inimitable Lord Shaftsbury, who in so lively a
manner sets forth the evil of universities, and
recommends conversation with the polite Peripa-
tetics, as the only way of ai riving at true know-
ledge.

JAMES EIYINGTON,
The Royal Printer of New York during the
Revolution, if not a man of much literature in
himself, was the prolific cause of literature in
others, having excited by his course some of the
best effusions of Witherspoon, Hopkinson, and
Freneau. He was from London, where he. had
attained considerable wealth as a bookseller,
which he had lost by his gay expenses at New-
market. He failed in business and came to Ame-
rica in 1760. #He was at first a bookseller in
Philadelphia, and the next year opened a store in
Wall street in New York, where he took up his
residence, in 1763 entering upon the printing
business. He commenced his newspaper, the
New York Gazetteer ; or the Connecticut, New
Jersey, Hudson's River and Quebec Weekly Ad-
vertiser, April 22, 1773, " at his ever open and
uninfluenced press." He received support from
the government and advocated British interests;
not always to the acceptance of the popular feel-
ing. In 1775 he appears to have been confined
by order of Congress, when he addressed to that
body a very submissive remonstrance and petition,-
" humbly presuming that the very respectable
gentlemen of the Congress now sitting at Phila-
delphia, will permit him to declare, and, as a man
j of honor and veracity, he can and does solemnly
j declare, that however wrong and mistaken he
1 may have been in his opinions, he has always
meant honestly and openly to do his duty as a
servant of the public. * * It is his wish and
ambition to be an useful member of society. Al-
i though an Englishman by birth, he is an Ameri-
! can by choice, and he is desirous of devoting his
life, in the business of his profession, to the ser-
vice of the country he has adopted for his own.''*
In Nov. 1775, Oapt. Isaac Sears, a representative
of the sons of liberty, who had retired to Con-
necticut, returned with a troop of seventy -five
light horse, which he had got together, " beset"
j the habitation of Rivington, destroyed his press
j and carried off his types, which were converted
! into bullets. Rivington then left for England,
| procured a new press, and was appointed King's
] Printer in New York. Oct. 4, 1777, he recom-
menced the Gazette with the old title, which he
soon exchanged to Rivington's New York Loyal
Gazette, and December 13 to the Royal Gazette,
which became so notorious in his hands, and

* The letter is given in Sabine's Loyalists, pp. 553-560.

JAMES RIVINGTON'.

279

■which he continued till 178?.. On the with-
drawal of the British, Rivington remained in
New York, a circumstance which surprised the
returning Americans till it became known that
he had been, during the latter days of the war, a
spy for Washington. He wrote his communica-
tions on thin paper, and they found their way
bound in one of the books in which he dealt to
the American camp, by the hands of agents igno-
rant of the service. He continued his paper
with the royal arms taken down, and the title
changed to Rivingtorfs New York Gazette and
Universal Advertiser, but it was considered "a
wolf in sheep's clothing;" support dropped off,
and the paper soon stop >ed in 1783. Rivington,
in reduced circumstances, lived till 1802, when
he died at the age of seventy-eight. There is a
portrait of him by Stuart in the possession of
the Hunter family in Westchester Co., New
York.

The Royal Gazette undoubtedly bore a very had
character for its statements. People were accus-
tomed to call it the Lying Gazette. The resolu-
tions of the Rhode Island Whigs at Newport on
this head are sufficiently explicit: " Whereas, a
certain James Rivington, a printer and stationer
in the city of New York, impelled by the love of
sordid pelf and a haughty, domineering spirit,
hath for a long time in the dirty Gazette, and in
pamphlets, if possible still more dirty, uniformly
persisted in publishing everv falsehood," &c*
"Even the royalists," says Isaiah Thomas, " cen-
sured Rivington for Ins disregard to truth. Dur-
ing the war, a captain of militia at Horseneck,
with abqut thirty men, marched to Kingsbridge,
and there attacked a house within the British
lines, which was garrisoned by refugees, and took
most of them prisoners. Rivington published an
accmmt of this transaction which greatly exag-
gerated the affair in favor of the refugees; he
observed, that 'a large detachment of rebels at-
tack ;d the house, which was bravely defended
by a refugee colonel, a major, a quartermaster,
and fifteen privates — and, that after they were
taken and carried off, another party of refugee
dragoon*, seventy-three in number, pursued the
rebels, killed twenty-three of them, took forty
prisoners, and would have taken the whole rebel
force, had not the refugee horse been jaded to a
stand-still' "t

Rivington's Royal Gazette was conducted for
the Tory side with cleverness, and Rivington
must have been, in many ways, a man of talent
and ability. I The paper was well put together
and supplied with news from abroad, and was
constantly replenished with poetical and prose
squibs directed at the rebels. There was no
lack of very pretty poems full of facetiousness
at the expense of the Revolutionary leaders and
their French allies. Gov. Livingston, in particu-
lar, was honored with many humorous epithets as
the Don Quixote of the Jerseys, the Itinerant

'* Sabine's American Loyalists, p. 553, where several otherpro-
cecdings of this kind are given.
I Thomas's Hist. Printing, ii. 314.

J '-He knew how to get money, and as well knew how to
spend it; being facetious, companionable, and still fond of
high living; but, like a man acquainted with the world, he
distinguished the guests who were his best customers." — Tho-
mas's Hist. Printing, ii. 112.

Dey of New Jersey, trie Knight of the most
honorable Order of Starvation and Chief of the
Independents. "If Rivington is taken," Gov.
Livingston wrote about 1780, " I must have one
of his ears ; Governor Clinton is entitled to the
other, and General Washington, if he pleases,
may take his head." Writing to a friend in 1779,
he says, " If I could send you any news I should
do it with pleasure ; and to make it, you know,
is the prerogative of Mr. Rivington."*

Rivington's Gazette relishes of many other
things besides war and politics. The officers lived
well and daintily, it we may judge from his adver-
tising columns. " Ratafia and Liqueurs to be sold
in boxe-i. Enquire of the Printer." " Wanted.
A Very Good Fiddle. Enquire of the Printer,"
are advertisements of 1779. His own bookselling
stock was at the same time daintily set forth —
"Novels, New Plays, and other Bagatelles, just
imported and sold by James Rivington — as The
Memoirs of Lady Audley — The Journey of Dr.
Robert Bon Gout and his lady to Bath, and plays
of the very pleasant Master Samuel Foot, now
first. published." We have also " Dr. Smollett's
pleasant expedition of Humphrey Clinker," — and
" the facetious history of Peregrine Pickle." All
tilings are as pleasant as possible to his friends
in Rivington's paper. But as a salad is worth
nothing without a few drops of vinegar, that in-
gredient is supplied at the cost of the great Dr.
Johnson. There is advertised, in 1780- — ■" a Jour-
ney to the Western Isles of Scotland, a very sour
performance published by the celebrated Dr. Sa-
muel Johnson, author of a lu-tv Dictionary of the
English language." In his paper of May 3, 1780,
Rivington offers for sale "Lord Clarendon's His-
tory of the Grand Rebellion which the vandals
of America are apeing;" but this, perhaps, was
a treasonable compliment to the "rebels," with a
wink over the pen to Washington I

He had not, however, all the laughter to him-
self. The grave and venerable Witherspoon, who
never threw away a joke in an unprofitable way,
though lie had always wit at command, wrote a

Supplication of J. P , a parody of Rivington's

Petition to Congress, which must have stirred the
gall of its victim, as it tickled the midriff of all
who knew the man. It purports to be addressed
to his Excellency Henry Laurens, Esquire, Presi-
dent and others, the members of the Honorable
the American Congress, &e., and thus at the open-
ing, Respectfully Sheweth : —

That a great part of the British forces has already
left this city, and from many symptoms there is rea-
son to suspect, that the remainder will speedily fol-
low them. Where they are gone or going, is per-
haps known to themselves, perhaps not; certainly,
however, it is unknown to us, the loyal inhabitants
of the place, and other friends of government
who have taken refuge in it, and who are therefore
filled with distress and terror on the unhappy oc-
casion.

That as soon as the evacuation is completed, it
is more than probable the city will be taken pos-
session of by the forces of your high mightinesses,
followed by vast crowds of other persons — whigs by
nature and profession — friends to the liberties, and

: Sedgwick's Livingston, pp. 247, 338.

280

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

foes to the enemies of America. Above all, it will
undoubtedly be tilled with shoals of Yanki.es, that
is to say, the natives and inhabitants (or as a great
lady in this metropolis generally expresses it, the
'wretches) of New-hngland.

That from several circumstances, there is reason to
fear that the behavior of the wretches aforesaid, may
not be altogether gentle to such of the friends of
government as shall stay behind. What the govern-
ment powers of the state of New-York may do also,
it is impossible to foretell. Nay, who knows but we
may soon see, propria perso?ta, as we have often
heard of Hortcnsius, the governor of New-Jersey, a
gentleman remarkable for severely handling those
whom he calls traitors, and indeed who has exalted
some of them (quanquam animus meminisse horret
lectuque refugit) to a high, though dependent station,
and brought America under their feet, in a sense
very different from what Lord North meant when he
first used that celebrated expression.

That your petitioner, in particular, is at the great-
est loss what to resolve upon, or how to shape his
course. He has no desire at all, either to be roasted
in Florida, or frozen to death in Canada or Nova
Seotia. Being a great lover of iresli cod, he has had
thoughts of ti'3-n.g a settlement in Newfoundland,
but recollecting that the New-England men have
almost all the same appetite, he was obliged to re-
linquish that project entirely. If he should go to
Great-Britain, dangers no less formidable present
themselves, Having been a bankrupt in London, it
is not impossible that he might be accommodated
with a lodging in Newgate, and that the ordinary
there might oblige him to say his prayers, a practice
from which he hath had an insuperable aversion all
his life long.

He urges " sundry reasons " for leniency, one of
"which is the following : —

Any further punishment upon me, or any other of
the unhappy refugees who shall remain in N. York,
will be altogether unnecessary, for they do suffer and
will suffer from the nature of the thing, as much as
a merciful man could wish to impose upon his great-
est enemy. By this I mean the dreadful mortifica-
tion (after our past puffing and vaunting) of being
under the dominion of the Congress, seeing and
hearing the conduct and discourse of the friends of
America, and perhaps being put in mind of our own,
in former times. You have probably seen many of
the English newspapers, and also some of mine, and
you have among you the few prisoners who by a
miracle escaped death in our hands. By all these
means you may learn with what infinite contempt,
with what provoking insult, and with what unex-
ampled barbarity, your people have, from the begin-
nir.g to the end, been treated by the British officers,
excepting a very small number, but above all by the
tories and refugees, who not having the faculty of
fighting, were obliged to lay out their whole wrath
and malice in the article of speaking. I remember,
when one of the prisoners taken after the gallant
defence of Fort Washington had received several
kicks for not being in his rank, he said, is this a way
of treating a gentleman ? The answer was. gentle-
man ? G d — your blood, who made you a

gentleman ? which was heard by us all present with
unspeakable satisfaction, and ratified by general ap-
plause. I have also seen one of your officers, after
long imprisonment, for want of clothes, food and
lodging, as meagre as a skeleton and as dirty and
shabby as a London beggar, when one of our friends
would say with infinite humour, look you there is
one of King Cong's ragged rascals. You must re-

member the many sweet names given you in print,
in England and America, Rebels, Rascals, Ragga-
muffins, Tatterdemallions, Scoundrels, Blackguards,
Cowards, and Poltroons. You cannot be ignorant
how many and how complete victories we gained
over you, and what a fine figure you made in our
narratives. We never once made you to retreat,
seldom even to fig as a routed army, but to run off
into the woods, to scamper away ihrougli the fields,
and to take to your heels as usual. You will proba-
bly soon see the gazette account of the defeat of
Mr. Washington at Monmouth. There it will appear
how you scampered off, and how the English followed
you and mowed you down, till their officers, with
that humanity which is the characteristic of the na-
tion, put a stop to this carnage, and then by a
masterly stroke of generalship, stole a march in the
night, lest you should have scampered back again
and obliged them to make a new slaughter in the
morning.

Now, dear gentlemen, consider what a miserable
affair it must be for a man to be obliged to apply
with humility and self-abasement to those wtiom he
hath so treated, nay, even to beg life of them, while
his own heart upbraids him with his pnst conduct,
and perhaps his memory is refreshed with the repe-
tition of some of his rhetorical flowers. It is gene-
rally said that our friend Burgoyne was treated with
abundance of civility by General Gates, and yet I
think it could not be verj* pleasing to him to see and
hear the boys when he entered Albany, going before
and crying Elbow Room for General Burgoyne there.
Fear and trembling have already taken hold of many
of the Refugees and friends of government in this
place. It would break your hearts to hear poor

bam. 8 , of Philadelphia, weeping and

wailing, and yet he was a peaceable Quaker who
did nothing in the world but hire guides to the Eng-
lish parties who were going out to surprise and

butcher you. My brother of trade, G is so

much affected, that some say he has lost, or will
soon lose, his reason. For my own part I do not
think 1 run any risk in that respect. All the wis-
dom that I was ever possessed of is in me still,
praised be God, and likely to be so. * * * *
I have heard some people say that dishonor was
worse than death, but with the great Saneho Pancha,
I was always of a different opinion. I hope, there-
fore, your honors will consider my sufferings as suffi-
cient to atone for my offences, and allow me to con-
tinue in peace a:id quiet, and according to the North-
British proverb, sleep in a whole skin.

And does not forget his lighter accomplishments :

I beg leave to suggest, that upon being received
into favor, I think it would be in my power to serve
the United States in several important respects. I
believe many of your officers want politeness. They
are like old Cinciunatus, taken from the plow; and
therefore must still have a little roughness in their
manners and deportment. Now, I myself am the
pink of courtesy, a genteel, portly, well-looking fel-
low, as you will see in a summer's day. I under-
stand and possess the bienseance, the manner, the
grace, so largely insisted on by Lord Chesterfield ;
and may without vanity say, I could teach it better
than his lordship, who in that article has remarkably
failed. I hear with pleasure, that your people are
pretty good scholars, and have made particularly
very happy advances in the art of swearing, so
essentially necessary to a gentleman. Yet 1 dare say
they will themselves confess, that they are still in
this respect far inferioi to the English army. There
is, by all accounts, a coarseness and sameness in their

JAMES RIVINGTON.

2Sl

expression ; whereas there is variety, sprightliness,
and figure, in the oaths of gentlemen well educated.
Dean Swift says very justly, " a footman may swear,
but he cannot swear like a lord." Now we have
many lords in the English army, all of whom, when
here, were pleased to honor me with their friendship
and intimacy; so that I hope my qualifications can
hardly be disputed. I have imported many of the
most necessary articles for appearance in genteel
life. I can give them Lavornitti's soap-balls, to wash
their brown hands clean, perfumed gloves, paint,
powder, and pomatum. I can also furnish the New-
England men with rings, seals, swords, canes, snuff-
boxes, tweezer-cases, and many other such notions,
to carry home to their wives and mistresses, who will
be nation-g\dd to see them. You are also to know
that I import a great many patent medicines, which
may be of use to your army. It is said that some
of them are exceedingly liable to a disorder called
by physicians the rancomania, which is frequently
followed by the two twin diseases of plumbophobia
and siderophobia. If they will but submit to a strict
regimen, and take the tincture drops and pills which
I prepare, I am confident the cure in most cases
would be infallible.

Nor his capacity as an editor: —

Finally, I hope I may be of service to the United
States, as a writer, publisher, collector, and maker
of news. I mention tins with some diffidence; be-
cause perhaps you will think I have foreclosed
myself from such a claim, by confessing (as above)
that my credit as a news-writer is broken by over-
stretching. But it is common enough for a man in
business, when his credit is wholly gone in one
place, by shifting his ground, and taking a new
departure, to flourish away, and make as great or
greater figure than before. How long that splendor
will last is another matter, and belongs to an after
consideration. I might therefore, though my credit
is gone in New-York, set up again in the place which
is honored with your residence. Besides, I might
write those things only or chiefly, which you wish
to be disbelieved, and thus render you the most
essential service. This would be aiming and arriving
at the same point, by manoeuvring retrograde. Once
more, as I have been the ostensible printer of other
people's lies in New-York, what is to hinder me
from keeping incog, and inventing or polishing lies,
to be issued from the press of another printer in
Philadelphia? In one, or more, or all of these ways,
I hope to merit your approbation. It would be end-
less to .mention all my devices; and therefore I will
only say further, that I can take a truth, and so puff
and swell and adorn it, still keeping the proportion
of its parts, but enlarging their dimensions, that you
could hardly discover where the falsehood lay, in
case of a strict investigation.

Francis Hopkinson published one of his wittiest
papers at Eivington's expense in the following

ADVERTISEMENT EXTRAORDINARY. BY JAMES RIVINGTON.*

New York, Nov, 1, 1781.
The late surrender of Lord Cornwallis and his
army, together with a variety of other circum-

* EST JAMES E1VINGT0N, printer of the Eovnl Gazette
at New York, whilst the British troops were in possession of

that city, had been exceedingly virulent, abusive, and illiberal
in his publications against the Americans, their congress their
army, their officers, and their measures : Every paper abound-
ed with the grossest falsities, misrepresentations, and insults-
till at last, facts repeatedly contradicting his positive intelli-
gence, the Royal Gazette lost all credit, even in Europe where
his accounts of the events of the war were cbictly intended to

stances, having rendered it convenient for the sub-
scriber to remove to Europe, all those who are
indebted to, or have any demands against him, are
earnestly requested to make as speedy a settlement
of their accounts as possible.

Notice is also hereby given, that the subscriber
will dispose of his remaining stock in trade by pub-
lic auction. The sales to begin at his store on Mon-
day, the 19th instant, and will be continued from
day to day (Sundays excepted) from the hours of ten
to one in the forenoon, until the whole shall be dis-
posed of.

It is well known that his store is furnished with
not only an extensive library of the most approved
authors, but also a greater variety of curious and
valuable articles than hath ever been exhibited in
one collected view on this side of the Atlantic. The
scanty limits of an advertisement are by far insuf-
ficient to admit of an adequate display of his extra-
ordinary and miscellaneous collection. The sub-
scriber must, therefore, content himself with
selecting, for the present, a few articles for public
attention : but a complete catalogue is now under
the press, and will be distributed at the time and
place of sale.

BOOKS.

THE History of the American War: or, The
glorious exploits of the British Generals, Gage, Howe,
Burgoyne, Cornwallis, and Clinton.

7 lie Royal Pocket Companion : being a New Sys-
tem of Policy, founded on rules deduced from the
nature of man, and proved by experience : whereby
a prince may in a short time render himself the
abhorrence of his subjects, and the contempt of all
good and wise men.

Select Fables of jEsop, with suitable Morals and
Applications — Amongst which are, The Dog and the
Shadow — The Man and his Goose, which laid a
Golden Egg, <fec, etc.

A New System of Cruelty ; containing a variety
of Modern Improvements in that Art. Embellished
with an elegant Frontispiece, representing an Inside
View of a Prison Ship.

The Right of Great Britain to the Dominion of
the Sea — a poetical Fiction.

The State of Great Britain in October 1760 and
October 1781, compared and contrasted.

A Geographical, Historical, and Political History
of the Rights and Possessions of the Crown of Great
Britain in North America. This valuable Work did
consist of thirteen Volumes in Folio: but is now
abridged by a royal Author to a single Pocket Duo-
decimo ; for the greater convenience of himself, his
successors, and subjects.

The Lam of Nations, revised and amended. To
which is added, by way of Appendix, a full and true
account of the Capture of the Island of St. Eustatia,
by Admiral Rodney.

The Conquest of the four Southern rebel Colonies,
with Notes critical and explanatory by Earl Corn-
wallis.

A narrative of the Ship-wreck of 'Lord Rawdon,
in his voyage from Charlestown, South Carolina, to
London.

operate. This conduct of Mr. Eivingtnn, and of those who
countenanced and assisted him, provoked some sarcasms in
return— amongst which was this publication. — AicOun"a Note.
To appreciate fullvtlie humor of this ironical inventory, the
reader should consult the files of Eivington's paper and note
the provocation to mirth, in the glowing advertisements,
arranged pretty much according to Eopkinson's order, of the
royal printer's pamphlets, maps," charts, views and plans of bat-
tles, musical instruments. <fcc. There is a complete set of Eiv-
ington's Gazette in the Library of the New York Historical
Society.

282

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Miracles not ceased: or, an instance of the remark-
able Interposition of Providence in causing the Moon
to delay her setting for more than two hours, to
favour the retreat of General Joshua and the British
Army after the battle of Monmouth.

Tears of Repentance : or, the present state of the
loyal Refugees in IN'ew York, and elsewhere.

Tli e political Liar : a weekly Paper, published by
the Subscriber, bouud in Volumes.

WEST Point Preserved : or, The Plot discovered.

Miss M'Crea: A Tragedy.

Burgoyne's Address to the people of Saratoga.
The sleeveless Errand : or, the Commissioners of Peace.
The march to the Valley Forge ; or much ado about
nothing. The unsuccessful attempt by Gov. Johnson.
The amorous Hero and contented Cuckold, by Gen.
Howe and Mr. Loring — Comedies.

The Meschianza: a pantomime.

The Battle of the Kegs : a Farce.

Who'd have thought it? or, the Introduction of 24
Standards to the rebel Congress. A procession.

MAPS AND PP.INT8.

AN elegant Map of the British empire in North
America, upon a very small scale.

Ax accurate Chart of the Const of North America
from IS'ew Hampshire to Florida ; with the Sound-
ings of all the principal Inlets, Bays, Harbours, and
Rivers. This work was undertaken and completed
by his Majesty's special command ; and at a national
expense of many millions of Guineas, thousands of
Men, and hundreds of Merchantmen and ro\-al Ships
of War.

A Survey of Lord Cornwallis's Rout through the
Southern Colonies: beginning at Charlestown, in
South Carolina, and terminating at York in Virginia.
As the preceding Chart gives an accurate descrip-
tion of the Sea Coast, so it was intended to form a
correct Map of the interior parts of this Country ;
but the rude Inhabitants grew jealous of the opera-
tion, and actually opposed his Lordship's progress.

The Battle of Saratoga, and the Surrender at
York ; two elegant Prints, cut in Copper, and dedi-
cated to the Kii g.

British Representations of the principal Transac-
tions of the present War, highly coloured by eminent
hands. These pieces are so ingeniously contrived,
th:it by reversing any one of them, it will exhibit an
American or a French view of the same subject
uncoloured.

A very humourous Representation of the memora-
ble Procession of Brigadier General Arnold ; with
his Friend and Counsellor, through the streets of
Philadelphia.*

The limes: A satyrical Print, representing the
British Lion blind in boih Eyes, thirteen of his
Teeth drawn, and his Claws pared off; with Lord
North, in the character of a Farrier, bleeding himin
the Tail for his recovery.

PHILOSOPHICAL APPAP.ATUS.

A curious neio invented magic Laniliorn : very
useful for those who are at the head of affairs. This

* After the Discovery and Failure of General Arnold's trea-
sonable design to betiay the whole garrison of West-point, with
the person of Gen. "Washington, the ministerof France, Baron
Steuben, and other principal Characters, into the hands of the
Enemy ; an effigy of t tie General, as larire as the life, was con-
structed by an able artist at Philadelphia, and seated in a cart,
with the figure of the Devil at his elbow, holding a Lanthorn
tip to the face of Arnold to show Dim to the people. The cart
was paraded a whole evening through the streets of the City,
with Drums and Fifes playing the Rogue's march, and other
marks of Infamy, and attended by a vast concourse of People,
—Author's Kotc,

Machine was constructed by an able Artist, under
Lord North's immediate direction, for the amuse-
ment of the good people of England. The Specta-
tors are gratified with an illuminated view of the
fictitious objects presented, but kept totally in the
dark with respect to the real objects around tnern.

Multiplying Glasses ; whereby the numbers of an
Enemy ma}' be greatly encreased to cover the dis-
grace of a Defeat, or enhance the glory of a Victory.

Microscopes, for mag lifyuig small objects, furnish-
ed with a select set ready fitted for use. Amongst
these are a variety of real and supposed Successes
of the British Generals in America.

A complete Electrical Apparatus, with improve-
ments, for the use of the King and his Ministers.
This Machine should be exercised with great caution ;
otherwise, as experience hath shown, the operator
may unexpectedly receive the shock he intends to
give — Pocket glasses for short-sighted Politicians.

PATENT MEDICINES.

Aurum Potabile. This preparation was formerly
supposed to be a never failing Specific; but has
been found not so well adapted to the American Cli-
mate, having been frequently tried here without
effect: But its reputation is again rising, as it has
lately been administered with success in the case of
General Arnold.

Vivifying Balsam : excellent for weak Nerves,
Palpitations of the Heart, over Bashfulness and Dif-
fidence. In great demand for the Officers of the
Army.

Sp. Mend. : Or the genuine spirit of Lying, ex-
tracted by distillation from many hundreds of the
Royal Gazette of New York. Other papers have
been subjected to the same process, but the success
did not answer the Expence and Trouble of the
operation, the produce being of an inferior quality
— Therefore beware of Counterfeits. The Ink and
Paper of the Royal Gazette can alone furnish this
excellent Sp. Mend, in its greatest perfection. By
administering due proportions of this admirable
Medicine, Lies may be formed which will operate for
a day, a week, a month or months ; near at hand or
at a distance; in America, or in Europe, according
to the design of the party. K. B. The true Sp.
Mend, is authenticated by the Seal of the Subscriber,
who is the Inventor and Patentee thereof.

Cordial Drops for low spirits, prepared for the
special use of the Honorable the Board of loyal Refu-
gees at New York.

Anodyne Elixir, for quieting Fears and Appre-
hensions: very necessary for Tories in all parts of
America.

With a great variety of other Articles too tedious
to enumerate.

N. B. To every Purchaser to the value of five
Pounds, will be delivered gratis, One Quire of coun-
terfeit Continental Currency. Also two Quires of
Proclamations, offering Pardon to Rebels.

JAMES RIYIXGTON.

Hopkitifon also published Rivington's reply to
this, very much in the style of Witlierspoon. Last-
ly, we have these witty morceaux, by Frenearj, who
found capital vent for his humor in the character
of this curiously compounded gentleman. He
wrote a number of verses on the tempting theme.
First, an Epigram " occasioned by the title of
Mr. Rivington's New York Royal Gazette being
scarcely legible;" then, " Lines occasioned Ivy Mr.
Rivington's new titular types to his Royal Ga-
zette," but became very much dissatisfied with the
execution of the king's arms ; and when that was
remedied, produced a more stinging Epigram still.

JAMES M'CLURG.

283

"onMivRivington's New Engraved King's Arms
to hid Royal Gazette." The " Reflections " and
"Confessions" are most searching and candid — ■
since Freneau did not spare him; but perhaps of
all these, the best was his

RIVINGTON'S LAST "WILL AND TESTAMENT.

Since life is uncertain, and no one can say

How soon we may go, or how long we snail stay,

Metliinks lie is wisest wao soo lest prepares,

And settles, ia season, his worldly affairs.

Some folks are so weak they cau scarce avail crying,

And think when they're making their wills they are

dying;
'Tis surely a serious employment— but still,
Who e'er died the sooner for making his will ?

Let others be sad when their lives they review,
But I know whom I've serv'd — and him faithfully

too ;
And though it may seem a fanatical story,
He ofien has show'd me a glimpse of tiis glory.

Imprimis, my carcase I give and devise,

To be made into cakes of a mo lerate size,

To nourish those Tories wlio-e spirits may droop,

And serve the king's army with portable soup.

Unless I mistake, in the scriptureswe read
That " worms on the dead shall delicto isly feed ;"
The scripture stands true — ind that I a:n firm in,
For what are our Tories and soldiers but vermin!

This soup of all soups can't be call'd that of beef,
(And this may to some be a matter of grief,)
But I am certain the Bull would occasion a laugh,
That beef-portable-soup should be made of a calf.

To the king, my dear master, I give a full sett
(In volumes bound up) of the Royal Gazette,
In which he will find the vast records co itain'd,
Of provinces conquer'd, and victories giiu'd.

As to Arnold, the traitor, and Satan, his brother,
I beg they will also accept of another;
And this shall be bo Hid in Morocco re I leather,
Provided they'll read it, like brothers, together.

But if Arnold should die, 'tis another affair,
Then Satan, surviving, shall be the sole heir;
He often lias told me he thought it quite clever,
So to him and his heirs I bequeath it forever.

I know there are some (that would fain be thought

wise)
Who say my Gazette is a record of lies ;
In answer to this, I shall only reply —
All the choice that I had was, to starve or to lie.

My fiddles, my flutes, French horns and guitars,
I ienve to our heroes, now weary of wars — -
To the wars of the stage they more boldly advance,
The captains shall play, and the soldiers shall dance.

To Sir H'nri/ Clinton, his use and behoof,
I leave my French brandy, of very goo 1 proof;
It will give him fresh spirits for battle and slaughter,
And make him feel boidr by land and by water.

But I caution the knight, for fear he do wrong,

'Tis aimnt la viands, et apra le poUson* —

It will strengthen his stomach, prevent it from

turning,
And digest the affront of his effigy -burning.
To Baron Knyphausen, his heirs and assigns,
I bequeath my old Hock, and my Burgundy wines,
To a true Hessian drunkard, no liquors are sweeter,
ind I know the old man is no foe to the creature.

* Before flesh and after fish.— See E. Gaz.

To a General, my namesake,* I give and dispose
Of a purse full of clipp'd, lirjht, sweated half joes;
I hereby desire him lo take back his trash,
And return me my Haunay's infallible wash.

My chessmen and tables, and other such chattels
I give to Coruwnllis, renowned in battles;
By moving of these (not tracing the map)
He'll explain to the king how he got in a trap.

To goo 1 David Mi thews (among other slops)
I give my whole cargo of Mare taut's drops ;
If they cannot do all, they may cuie him in part,
And scatter the poison that Cankers his heart.

Provided, however, and nevertheless,
That whatever estate I enjoy and possess
At the time of my death (if it be not then sold)
Shall remain to the Tories, to have and to hold.

As I thus have bequeath'd them both carcase and

fleece,
The least they can do is to wait my decease ;
But to give them what substance I have, ere I die,
And be cat up with vermin, while living — uot I —

In witness whereof (though no ailment I feel)
Hereunto I set both my hand and my seal;
(As the law says) in presence of witnesses twain,
'Squire John Cor/hill Knap and brother Hugh Gaine.

Graydon, in his Memoirs, mentions Rivington
as one of the occasional visitors of his mother's
boarding-house at Philadelphia, and notices his
theatrical turn. "This gentleman's manners and
appearance were sufficiently dignified ; and he
kept the best company. He was an everlasting
dabbler in theatrical heroics. Othello was the
character in which he liked best to appear."!

Ashbel Green, in his Autobiography, says, that
"he had. in foresight of the evacuation of New
York by the British army, supplied himself from
London with a large assortment of what, are
called the British classics, and other works of
merit ; so that, for some time after the conclu-
sion of the war, he had the sale of these puhlica-
i tions almost wholly to himself. Amongst others,
I dealt with him pretty largely ; and with no-
thing else to make me a favorite, the fulsome let-
ters which he addressed to me were a real curi-
osity. He was the greatest sycophant imagi-
; nable; very little under the influence of any
I principle but self-interest, yet of the most conr-
I teons manners to all with whom he had inter-
course.'^

JAMES MCLCEG.

Tins accomplished litterateur and eminent phy-
sician of Virginia was born at Hampton, in the
county of Elizabeth City in that state, in 1747.
lie was at the College of William and Mary with
Jefferson, and pursued the study of medicine at
Edinburgh and Paris. While in London he pub-
lished his Essay on the "Human Bile," exhibiting
a series of experiments, with an introduction,
"written in so philosophical a spirit, and ex-
pressed with such beauty and classic elegance of
diction, that it was translated into all the lan-
guages of Europe."§ He returned to America in

* Gen. James Robertson.

t Graydon's Memoirs, p. 77.

* Ashbel Greens Life, p. 46.

§ Discourse on American Literature at Charlottesville, Dec
19, 1837, by Professor Geo. Tucker.

284

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

1772 or 1773, and established himself at Williams-
burg, removing, when the seat of government
was changed, about 1783 to Richmond, where he
died, July, 1825. He was killed on Governor's
street, in that city, by his horses running away.
His remains lie in old St. John's Church, on
Church Hill, where there is the following inscrip-
tion on his tomb, written by Mr. Watkins Leigh,
who married his grand-daughter, and which has
been much admired for its tasteful composition.

Here lies interred

the body of James M'Olurg, M.D.

In life

admired and honored for learning, taste, and genius,

and venerated for virtue;

of studious and retired habits,

yet of the most easy and polished manners;

of the readiest and happiest wit,

tempered with modesty and benignity;

with a native dignity of character and deportment

always sustained without effort,

united with unaffected simplicity,

and softened with the utmost suavity of temper ;

formed to delight, instruct, and adorn society,

his conversation and acquaintance

were courted by the most distinguished persons

of his country and of his age.

Having studied his profession

in the most celebrated schools of Europe,

and distinguished himself even in youth

by the elegance and ability of his writings,

he was early placed

without pretension on his part,

by common consent abroad and at home,

in the highest rank among its professors,

which he occupied for half a century.

In old age

cheerful and tranquil,

his mental faculties unimpaired,

the serenity of his temper undisturbed.

Even his social gayety hardly clouded to the last

by the decay and infirmities of his body;

honored, beloved, revered,

content to live, content to die,

with equal mind he sunk to rest,

on the 9th day of July, 1825,

in the 78th year of his age.

He married Miss Elizabeth Seldon, daughter of
Carey Seldon. His daughter, the mother of Mrs-
Leigh, became the wife of John Wickharu, cele-
brated in the Burr trial.

Of his general literary accomplishments there
is a pleasing instance in some vers de societe, ac-
cording to the style of the day, savoring somewhat
of the English Cowley, entitled The Belles of Wil-
liamsburg, which were written and circulated in
that capital in 1777. They were mostly from his
pen, a few having been supplied by his intimate
friend Judge St. George Tucker.

TIIE BELLES OF WILLIAMSBURG.

"Wilt thou, advent'rous pen, describe
The gay, delightful, silken tribe,

That maddens all our city;
Nor dread, lest while you foolish claim
A near approach to beauty's flame,

Icarus' fate may hit ye.

"With singed pinions tumbling down.
The scorn and laughter of the town,
Thou'lt rue thy daring flight;

While every miss with cool contempt,
Affronted by the bold attempt,

Will, tittering, view thy plight.

Ye girls, to you devoted ever,
The object still of our endeavor

Is somehow to amuse you ;
And if instead of higher praise
You only laugh at these rude lays,

We'll willingly excuse you.

Advance then, each illustrious maid,
In order bright to our parade,

With Beauty's ensigns gay;
And first, two nymphs who rural plains
Forsook, disdaining rural swains,

And here exert their sway.

Myrtilla's beauties who can paint?

The well-turned form, the glowing teint,

May deck a common creature ;
But who can make th' expressive soul
With lively sense inform the whole,

And light up every feature.

At church Myrtilla lowly kneels,
No passion but devotion feels,

No smiles her looks environ ;
But let her thoughts to pleasure fly,
The basilisk is in her eye

And on her tongue the Syren.

More vivid beauty — fresher bloom,
With teints from nature's richest loom

In Sylvia's features glow;
Would she Myrtilla's aits apply,
And catch the magic of her eye,

She'd rule the world below.

See Laura, sprightly nymph, advance,
Through all the mazes of the dance,

With light fantastic toe;
See laughter sparkle in her eyes —
At her approach new joys arise,

New fires within us glow.

Such sweetness in her look is seen
Such brilliant elegance of mien,

So jauntie and so airy;
Her image in our fancy reigns,
All night she gallops through our veins,

Like little Mab the fairy.

Aspasia next, with kindred soul,
Disdains the passions that control

Each gentle pleasing art;
Her sportive wit, her frolic lays,
And graceful form attract our praise,

And steal away the heart.

We see in gentle Delia's face,
Expressed by every melting grace,

The sweet complacent mind ;
While hovering round her soft desires.
And hope gay smiling fans their fires,

Each shepherd thinks her kind.

The god of love mistook the maid
For his own Psyche, and 'tis said

He still remains her slave ;
And when the boy directs her eyes
To pierce where every passion lies,

Not age itself can save.

With pensive look and head reclined,
Sweet emblems of the purest mind,

Lo ! where Cordelia sits ;
On Dion's image dwells the fair —
Dion the thunderbolt of war,

The prince of modern wits.

THE REDWOOD LIBRARY.

iSo

Not far removed from her side,
Statira sits in be:iuty's pride,

And rolls about her eyes;
Thrice happy for the unwary heart
That affectation blunts the dart

That from her quiver flies.

Whence does that beam of beauty daw:, ?
What lustre overspreads the lawn?

What suns those rays dispense ?
From Artemisia's brow they came,
From Artemisia's eyes the flame

That dazzles every sense.

At length, fatigued with beauty's blaze
The feeble muse no more essays

Her picture to complete ;
The promised charms of younger girls
When nature the gay scene unfurls,

Some happier bard shall treat.

BEQtTEL TO TIIE BELLES OF WILLIAMSBURG.

Ye bards that haunt the tufted shade,
Where murmurs thro' the hallowed glade,

The Heliconian spring.
Who bend before Apollo's shrine,
And dance and frolic with the nine,

Or touch the trembling string.

And ye who bask in beauty's blaze,
Enlivening as the orient rays

From fair Aurora's brow,
Or those which form her crescent shrine,
Where Cynthia with a look benign

Regards the world below.

Say why, amidst the vernal throng,
Whose vernal charms inspired your song

With sweet poetic lore,
With e:iger look the enraptured swain,
For Isidore's form in vain,

The picture should explore.

Shall sprightly Isidora yield
To Laura the distinguished field,

Amidst the vernal throng?
Or shall Aspasia's frolic lays
From Leouella snatch the bays,

The tribute of the song ?

Like hers, I ween, the blushing rose,
On Sylvia's polished cheek that glows,

And hers the velvet lip,
To which the cherry yields its hue.
Its plumpness and ambrosial dew

Which even Gods might sip.

What partial eye a charm can find,
In Delia's look, or Delia's mind,

Or Delia's melting grace,
Which cannot in Miranda's mien,
Or winning smile or brow serene,

A rival beauty trace.

Sweet as the balmy breath of spring,
Or odors from the painted wing

Of Zephyr as he flies,
Brunette's charms might surely claim,
Amidst the votaries of fame,

A title to the prize.

What giddy raptures fill the brain,
When tripping o'er the verdant plain,

Florella joins the throng!
Her look each throbbing pain beguiles,
Beneath her footsteps Nature smiles,

And joins the poet's song.

Here even critic Spleen shall find
Each beauty that adorns the mind,
Or decks the virgin's brow ;

Here Envy with her venomed dart,
Shall find no vulnerable part,
To aim the deadly blow.

Could such perfection naught avail?
Or could the fair Belinda fail

To animate your lays?
For might not such a nymph inspire
With sportive notes the trembling lyre

Attuned to virgin praise ?

The sister graces met the maid,
Beneath the myrtle's fragrant shade,

When love the season warms ;
Deluded by her graceful mien,
They fancied her the Cyprian queen,

And decked her with their charms.

Say then why thus with heedless flight,
The panegyric muse should slight

A train so blythe and fair,
Or why so soon fatigued, she flies
No longer in her native skies,

But tumbles through the air.

A portion of these lines on the fair belles of
Williamsburg has been happily introduced in
the excellent novel by John Esten Cooke, of the
Virginia Comedians, which introduces us in a
spirit of delicate sentiment and elevated romance
to the chivalric olden time of the state. In the
romantic sketch from the same pen, of the Youth
of Jefferson, Dr. M'Clurg is introduced as one
of the tine spirits of that day.

Dr. M'Clurg's talents as a medical writer are
spoken of with great respect. Dr. J. W. Francis,
in the article in Thaclier's Medical Biography,
speaks in reference to his discourse On Reason-
ing: i?i Nedieine* that " in his extensive views
of the study of physic, he considered every
branch of science as kindred and capable of
mutual illustration," and also notices "his purity
and classical elegance of style seldom attained by
writers on professional or scientific subjects."

THE REDWOOD LIBEAEY.

In 1730, an association of gentlemen at New-
port met together and formed themselves into a
" Society for the Promotion of Knowledge and
Virtue." The town then included some of the
most cultivated men of the country, whose intel-
lectual activity was stimulated by the presence of
Berkeley. The original members of this club, or
association, similar to Franklin's Junto, were
Daniel Updike, the Attorney General of the Colo-
ny, a distinguished lawyer and an intimate friend
of the dean; Peter Bours, a member of the Go-
vernment Council; James Searing; Edward
Scott; Henry Collins, a merchant of taste and
liberality; Nathan Townsend; Jeremiah Condy,
and James Honey man, Jun., the son of the Rector
of Trinity. It was chiefly, at first, a debating
society, but the collection of books soon became
an object, and a wealthy gentleman of the town,
Abraham Redwood, gave five hundred pounds
sterling for the purchase of standard works in
London, recommending the erection of a library
building. To secure this, the Society procured a
charter of incorporation from the Colony in 1747,

* Published in the Phila. Journal of the Medical and Physi-
cal Sciences, edited by Prof. Chapman,

2S6

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

by the name of the Company of the Redwood
Library, in honor of its leading benefactor. Hen- i
ry Collins gave the lot of land on which the ;
building now stands, and the wealthy citizens of
the place subscribed five thousand pounds. The
library building was commenced in 1748, and ]
completed in 1750. The plan of the building,
which was furnished by Joseph Harrison, who l
had been engaged at Blenheim, has been much |
admired for its simple Doric elegance; the wings
on either side, which interfere with its propor-
tions, not belonging to the original conception.

The Eedwood Library.

A Abraham Redwood had removed to Newport
from Antigua. He possessed great wealth,
liberally expending it for charitable objects. He
was a member of the Society of Friends. He
died at Newport in 1788, in the seventy-ninth
year of his age.

Callender, the author of the Centennial His-
torical Discourse of Rhode Island, was one of the
members of the Society. Dr. Stiles, during his
residence on the island, consulted its literary
treasures, then rare in the country, and procured
additional volumes for its shelves. Channing has
recorded his debt of gratitude to its stores in the
culture of his youthful powers. " I had," he says,
" no professor or teacher to guide me, but I had
two noble places of study. One was yonder beau-
tiful edifice, now so frequented and so useful as a
public library, then so deserted that I spent day
after dajr, and sometimes week after week,
amidst its dusty volumes, without interruption
from a single visitor. The other place was yon-
der beach, the roar of which has so often mingled
with the worship of this place, my daily resort,
dear to me in the sunshine, still more attractive
in the storm."*

The library suffered somewhat in the Revolu-
tion, the British troops at their departure carry-
ing off some of the finest works. There are now
between six and seven thousand volumes. The
late Judah Touro, a native of Newport, bequeathed
three thousand dollars to the library company.
It has received, from time, to time, other valuable
donations, including the folio collection of the
English Historical Records, and gifts of land from
Solomon Southwick, of Albany, in 1813, and from

* Discourse at Newport, Works, iv. 337.

Abraham Redwood, of England, in 1834. The
Baron Ilottinguer, the Parisian hunker, connected
by marriage with the Redwood family, in 1837,
gave a thousand francs for the restoration of the
building*

JONATHAN MITCHEL SEW ALL.

The couplet,

No pent-up Utica contracts your powers,
But the whole boundless continent is yours,

is far better known than the poem of which it
forms a part.t than the remaining writings, or than
even the name of its author, Jonathan Mitchel
Sewall. It is a name that should be better
known and cherished, for it was borne by one
whose lyrics warmed the patriotism and cheered
the hearts of the soldiers of the Revolution in the
perils of the battle and the privations of the
camp.

Sewall was born at the old town of Salem,
Mass., in 1748. He was adopted at an early age,
on the deatli of his parents, by his uncle, Stephen
Sewall, Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of
Massachusetts; and after passing through Harvard
College, devoted himself to merchandise, a pur-
suit which he soon abandoned for the study and
practice of the law. In 1774 he was Register of
Probate for Grafton county, N. II. He afterwards
removed to Portsmouth in the same state, where
he resided until his death, March 29, 1808.

He published a collection of his poems in a
small volume, in 18014 They are for the most
part the productions of his youth, and consist of
paraphrases of Ossian, patriotic odes, epilogues,
and a few epigrams. His War and Washington
was composed at the beginning of the American
Revolution, and sung by the army in all parts of
the country.

The couplet we have quoted is found in an
epilogue to the tragedy of Cato, written in 1778.
It is occupied by a parallel between the scenes
and characters which have just passed before the
spectators' eyes and those in which author and
audience were alike participants.

EPILOGUE TO CATO.

Written ia 1778.
You see mankind the same in ev'ry age:
Heroic fortitude, tyrannic rage,
Boundless ambition, patriotic truth,
And hoary treason, and untainted youth,
Have deeply niark'd all periods, and all climes:
The noblest virtues, and the blackest crimes !

Britannia's daring sins, and virtues both,
Perhaps once mark'd the Vandal and the Goth.
And what now gleams with dawning ray at home,
Onee blaz'd in full-orb'd majesty at Rome.

Did Caesar, drunk with pow'r, and madly brave,
Insatiate burn, his country to enslave?
Did he for this lead forth a servile host,
And spill the choicest blood that Rome could boasl.
Our British Caesar too has done the same,
And damn'd this age to everlasting fame.

* Jewett's Public Libraries, pp. 48-53. Elton's Memoir of
Callender. Mason's Newport Illustrated.

t It was brought into vogue, witli a slight change, as tho
motto of Park Benjamin's newspaper, the New World.

% Miscellaneous Poems, with several specimens from tho
Author's Manuscript version of the Poems of Ossian. by J. M.
Sewall, Esq., Portsmouth. Printed by William Treadwcll &
Co. for the Author, 1801.

JONATHAN MITCHEL SEW ALL.

287

Columbia's erimson'il fields still smoke with gore!
Her bravest heroes cover nil the shore !
The tiow'r of Britain too in martial bloom,
In one sa 1 year seat headlong to the tomb 1

Did Ro. lie's brave senate nobly strive t' oppose
The mighty torrent of domestic foes?
And boldly arm the virtuous few, and dare
The desp'rate perils of unequal war?

Our senate, too, the same bold deed has done.
And for a C.vro, arm'd a WASHINGTON !
A chief in all the ways of battle skill'd,
Great in the council, glorious in tde field!
Thy scourge, O Britain! and Columbia's boast,
The dread, a id admiration of each host!
Whose martial arm, and steady soul, alone
Have male thy legions quake, thy empire groan,
A id thy p 'O 1 1 monarch tremble on his throne.
What now tiiou art, oh, ever uiay'st thou be,
And death the lot of any chief b it thee !
We've had our Decius too, and Hoive can say
Health, pardon, peace, George sends America !
Yet brings d&jtruction for the olive-wreath,
For health contagio i, and for pardon death.
In brave Fayeti'E young Juba lives again,
And many a .Marcus bleeds on yonder plain.
Like Pompev, Warkex fell in martial pride.
x\.nd great Montgomery like Scipio dy'd!
In Green the hero, patriot, sage we see,
And Lucius, Juba, Cato, shine in thee I
When Rome receiv'd her last decisive blow,
Hadst thou, immortal Gates, been Cassar's foe,
All-perfect discipline had oheck'd his sway,
And thy superior conduct wo i the day.
Freedom had triumph'd on Pharsalian ground,
Nor Sara-tog Ts heights been more reuown'd !
Long as heroic deeds the soul enflame.
Eternal praise bold Stark will ever claim,
AVlio led thy glorious way, and gave thee half thy

fame.
See persevering Arnold proudly scale
Canadia's alpine lulls, a second Hannibal!
In Caesar's days had such a daring mind
With Washington's serenity been join'd,
The tyrant the i had bled, great Cato liv'd,
Ami Rome in all her majesty survival.
What praise, what gratitude, are due to thee,

Oh brave, experieue'd, all-accomplish'd Lee ?
The sword, the pen, thou dost alternate wield,

Nor Julius' self to thee would blush to yield.

And while Sempromus' bellowings stun the ear,

I see the traitor Churcu his thunders hear.

" But all was false, and hollow, tho' his tongue

Dropt manna," with the garb of reason hung.

Ere long the wily Svpiiax may advance,

And Afric faith be verify'd in France.

How long, deluded by that faithless pow'r,

Will ye dream on, nor seize the golden hour i

In vain do ye rely on foreign aid,

By her own arm and heaven's Columbia must be
freed.
Rise then, my countrymen ! for fight prepare,

Gird on your swords, rind fearless rush to war!

For your grieV'd country nobly dare to die,

And empty all your veins for liberty.

No pent-up Utica contracts your pow'rs,

But the whole boundless continent is yours!

" Rouse up, for shame ! your brethren slain in
war,

Or groaning now in ignominious bondage,

Point at their wounds and chains, and cry aloud

To battle! Washington impatient mourns

His scanty legions, and demands your aid.

Intrepid Lee still clanks his galling fetters!

Montgomery complains that we are slow!

And Wabren's ghost stalks unreveng'd among us!"

eulogy on laughing.
Ddivered at an Exhibition by a Young Lady.
Like merry Momus, while the Gods were quaffing,
I come — to give an eulogy on laughing !
True, courtly Chesterfield, with critic zeal,
Asserts that laughiiig's vastly iingentecl !
The boist'rous shake, lie says, distorts fine faces,
And robs each pretty feature of the graces!
But yet this paragon of perfect taste,
On other topics was not over-chaittc ;
He like the Pharisees in this appears,
They ruin'd widows, but they made long pray'rs.
Tithe, anise, mint, they zealously affected:
But the law's weightier matters lay neglected ;
And while an insect strains their squeamish caul,
Down goes a monstrous camel — bunch and all !

Yet others, quite as sage, with warmth dispute
Man's risibles distinguish him from brute;
While instinct, reason, both in common own,
To laugh is man's prerogative alone!

Hail, rosy laughter! tnou deserv'st the bays!
Come, with thy dimples, animate these lays,
Whilst universal peals attest thy praise.
Daughter of Joy ! thro' thee we health attain,
When Esculapian recipes are vain.

Let sentimentalists ring in our ears
The tender joy of grief — the luxury of tears —
Heraclitus may whine — and oh! and ah! —
I like an honest, hearty, ha, hah, hah!
It makes the wheels of nature glibber play;
Dull care suppresses; smooths life's thorny way;
Propels the dancing current thro' each vein;
Braces the nerves ; corroborates the brain ;
Shakes ev'ry muscle, and throws off the spleen.

Old Homer makes you tenants of the skies,
His Gods love langhi g as they did their eyes!
It kept them in good humour, hush'd their squabbles,
As froward children are appeas'd by baubles;
Ev'n Jove the tliund'rer dearly lov'd a laugh,
When, of fine nectar, he had taken a quail!
It helps digestion when the feast runs high,
And dissipates the fumes of potent Bui gin. dy.

But, in the main, tho' laughing 1 approve,
It is not e\''vy kind of laugh I love;
For many laughs e'en candor must condemn!
Some are too full of acid, some of phlegm ;
The loud horse-laugh (improperly so styl'd),
The ideot simper, like the slumb ring child,
Th' affected laugh, to show a dimpled chin,
The sneer contemptuous, and broad vacant grin,
Are despicable all, as Strephon's smile,
To show his ivory legions, rank and file.

The honest laugh, unstudied, uuacquir'd,
By nature prompted, and true wit inspir'd,
Such as Quin felt, and Falstaff knew before,
When humor set the table on a roar ;
Alone deserves th' applauding muse's grace I
The rest — is all contortion and grimace.
But you exclaim, " Your Eulogy's too dry;
Leave dissertation and exemplify !
Prove, by experiment, your maxims true;
And, what you praise so highly make us do."

In troth 1 hop'd this was already done,
And Mirth and Momus had the laurel won!
Like honest Hodge, unhappy should 1 fail,
AVho to a crowded audience told his tale.
And laugh'd and snigger'd all the while himself
To grace the story, as he thought, poor elf!
But not a single soul his suffrage gave —
While each long phiz was serioun as the gravel
Laugh ! laugh ! cries Hodge, laugh loi d ! (no
halfaig)
I theuglit you all, e'er this, would die with laughing !
This did the feat; for, tickled at the whim,
A burst of laughter, like the electric beam,

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CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Shook all the audience — but it wms at him!
Like Hodge, should ev'ry stratagem and wile
Thro' my long story, not excite a smile,
I'll bear it with becoming modest}- ;
But should my feeble efforts move your glee,
Laugh, if you fairly can — but not at ME !

WAR AND WASHINGTON.

A Song, Composed at the beginning of the American
Revolution.

Vain BRITONS, boast no longer with proud in-
dignity,

By land your conqu'ring legions, your matchless
strength at sea,

Since we, your braver sons ineens'd, our swords
have girded on,

Huzza, huzza, huzza, huzza, for WAR and WASH-
INGTON.

Urg'd on by North and vengeance those valiant

champions came.
Loud bellowing Tea and Treason and George was all

on flame,
Yet sacrilegious as it seems, we rebels still live on.
And laugh at all their empty puffs, huzza for

WASHINGTON!

Still deaf to mild entreaties, still blind to England's
good.

You have for thirty pieces betray'd your country's
blood.

Like Esop's greedy cur you'll gain a shadow for
your bone,

Yet find us fearful shades indeed, inspir'd by WASH-
INGTON.

Mysterious! unexampled! incomprehensible!
The blimd'ring schemes of Britain their folly, pride,

and zeal,
Like lions how ye growl and threat ! mere asses

have you shown,
And ye shall share an ass's fate, and drudge for

WASHINGTON !

Your dark, unfathom'd councils our weakest heads

defeat,
Our children rout your armies, our boats destroy

your fleet,
And to complete the dire disgrace, coop'd up within

a town,
You live, the scorn of all our host, the slaves of

WASHINGTON !

Great Heay'n ! is this the nation whose thund'ring
arms were hurl'd,

Thro' Europe, Afric, India ? whose Navy rul'd a
World?

The lustre of your former deeds, whole ages of re-
nown,

Lost in a moment, or transferr'd to us and WASH-
INGTON !

Yet think not thirst of glory unsheaths our venge-
ful swords

To rend your bands asunder, and cast away your
cords.

Tis heav'n-born FREEDOM fires us all, and strength-
ens each brave son,

From him who humbly guides the plough, to god-
like WASHINGTON.

For this, Oh could our wishes your ancient rage

inspire,
Your armies should be doubled, in numbers, force,

and fire.
Then might the glorious conflict prove which best

deserv'd the boon,
America or Albion, a George or WASHINGTON !

Fir'd witli the great idea, our Fathers' shades

would rise,
To view the stern contention, the gods desert their

skies.
Aud Wolfe, 'midst hosts of heroes, superior bending

down,
Cry out with eager transport, God save great

WASHINGTON !

Should Gf.orge, too choice of Britons, to foreign

realms apply,
And madly arm half Europe, yet still we would defy
Turk, Hessian, Jew, and Infidel, or all those pow'rs

in one,
While Adams guides our senate, our camp great

WASHINGTON!

Should warlike weapons fail us, disdaining slavish

fears.
To swords we'll beat our ploughshares, our pruning-

hooks to spears,
And rush, all desp'rate ! on our foe, nor breathe 'till

battle won,
Then shout, and shout AMERICA ! and conqu'ring

WASHINGTON !

Proud France should view with terror, and
haughty Spain revere,

While ev'ry warlike nation would court alliancehere.

Aud George, his minions trembling round, dismount-
ing from his throne

Pay homage to AMERICA and glorious WASHING-
TON" !

HUGH HENET BEACKENEIDGE,
Trre democratic politician and judge, eminent
for his social wit, and the author of one of the
finest political satires which the country has pro-
duced, was born in the year 1748 near Campbel-
ton, in Scotland. He was brought by his
father, a poor farmer, to America, when he was
five years old. The family settled down on a
small lease farm, in York county, Pennsylvania,
west of the Susquehannah, on the borders of
Maryland. The difficulties of his position did
not prevent the youth securing a good education,
partly from the country school, but mainly from
an intelligent and painstaking clergyman of the
region, who gave him some lessons in Latin and
Greek. The mother encouraged the bookish
efforts of her son, who would travel during the
Sunday's intermission from work, twenty or
thirty miles, to secure a volume or a newspaper.
A copy of Horace, of which he came into pos-
session, he left one day in the field, when it was
munched by a cow. Meeting with a young man
possessed of some knowledge of mathematics, lie
exchanged with him his Latin and Greek for that
acquisition. At the age of fifteen he applied for
the situation of teacher at a free school in Mary-
land, and secured the position. His juvenile
years exposed him to some opposition from his
older pupils, one of whom resisted his authority
by force. Brackenridge " seized a brand from
the fire, knocked tiie rebel down, and spread ter-
ror around him."* With the small means which
he laid up in this employment, he made his way
to the college at Princeton, then under the charge
of President Wither-poon. He was admitted,
and supported himself in the higher classes by

* We are indebted for this, as for the other anecdotes in tills
account, to the Biographical Notice by II. M. Brackenridge,
of Pittsburgh, appended to the edition of Modern Chivalry, of
1S46.

HUGH HENRY BRAOKENRIDGE.

289

teaching tlie lower. His name appears on the
list of graduates in 1771, with Gunning Bed-
ford, Samuel Spring, James Madison, and Philip
Frenean. In conjunction with the last, he deli-
vered at the Commencement a poem in dialogue
between Acasto and Eugenio, on the Rising
Glory of America, which was published the
next year in Philadelphia.* The part which he
wrote is easily separated, since Frcneau after-
wards published his portion separately in the
edition of his poems in 1795. The verse of
Braokenridge is smooth and glowing, and is tinc-
tured with a grave religious tone.

Braokenridge continued a tutor in the college
after taking his first degree, and studied divinity.
He was licensed to preach, though not ordained,
and undertook, at a profitable remuneration, for
several years, the charge of an academy in Mary-
land.

His patriotic feeling on the breaking out of
the devolution induced him to prepare a drama-
tic production, entitled Bunker's Hill, which was !
recited by his pupils. It was published in 177li,t
with a dedication " to Richard Stockton, Esq., I
Member of the Honorable the Continental Con-
gress, for the state of New Jersey." It has a
Prologue spoken " by a Lieutenant-Colonel in the
Continental army," and an Epilogue, " written by !
a gentleman of the army, supposed to be spoken i
immediately after the battle, by Lieutenant-Col.
Webb, aide-de-camp to General Putnam." The
dramatis persona are Warren, Putnam, and Gar-
diner, for the American officers; Gage, 'Howe,
Burgoyne, Clinton, and Lord Pigot, for the Bri-
tish. There is no lady in the case. Warren
opens with an address to Putnam, to which the
latter responds in sympathy, and Warren pro-
poses the fortification of Bunker's Hill. Among
the British at Boston, Burgoyne chafes over the
confinement of the British troops. Gage re-
plies—

Tiiis mighty paradox will soon dissolve.
Hear first, Burgoyne, the valour of these men.
Fir'd with the zeal of fiercest liberty,
No fear of death, so terrible to all,
Can stop their rage. Grey-headed clergymen,
With holy bible and continual prayer,
Bear up their fortitude — -and talk of heav'n,
And tell them that sweet soul, who dies iu battle,
Shall walk with spirits of the just.

Howe compliments the enemy further —
Not strange to your maturer thought, Burgoyne,
This matter will appear. A people brave,

* A Poem, on the Rising Glory of America, being an Exer-
cise delivered at the Public Commencement at .Nassau Hall,
September 25, 1TT1.

■ Venient annis

Specula seris, quibus oceanus
Vincula rerum laset et ingeos
Pateat tellus, Typhisque novos
I»etegat orbes : nee sit terris
Ultima Thule.

Seneca. Med. Act iii. v. 875.
Philadelphia: Printed by Joseph Cruikshank, for E. Aitken,
Bookseller, oppo.-ite tbe Loudon Coffee-House, in Front-
street. 1772.

t The Battle of Bunker's Hill. A dramatic piece, of Are
Acts, in heroic measure ; by a Gentleman of Maryland.

Pulchrumque nrori succurrit in armis.

Virgil.

ris glorious to die in battle.

Philadelphia: Printed aud Sold by Robert Bell, in Third-
street. 1776.
VOL. I.— 19

Who never yet, of luxury, or soft

Delights, effeminate and false, have tasted.

But, through hate of chains, and slav'ry, suppos'd,

Forsake their mountain tops, and rush to arms.

Oft have I heard their valour published :

Their perseverance, and untameable

Fiei'ee mind, when late they fought with us, and

drove
The French, encroaching on their settlements,
Baek to their frozen lakes. Or when with us
On Cape Breton, they stormed Louisburg.
With us. in Canada, they took Quebec ;
And at the Havamiah, these New England Men,
Led on by Putnam, acted gallantly.

The assault is made, and Warren falls. This
is a portion of his dying speech : —

Weep not for him who first espous'd the cause
Aud risking life, have met the enemy,
In fatal opposition. But rejoice —
For now I go to mingle with the dead,
Great Brutus, Hampden, Sidney, and the rest,
Of old or modern memory, who liv'd,
A mound to tyrants, and strong hedge to kings;
Bounding the indignation of their rage
Against the happiness and peace of man.
I see these heroes, where they walk serene,
By chrystal currents, on the vale of Heaven,
High iu full converse of immortal acts,
Achiev'd for truth and innocence on earth.
Meantime the harmony and thrilling sound
Of mellow lutes, sweet viols aud guitars,
Dwell on the soul, and ravish ev'ry nerve.
Anon the murmur of the tight-brac'd drum.
With finely varied fifes to martial airs,
Wind up the spirit to the mighty proof
Of siege and battle, and attempt in arms.
Illustrious group ! They beckon me along,
To ray my visage with immortal light,
And bind the amaranth around my brow.
I come, I come, ye first-born of true fame;
Fight on, my countrymen ; Be free, be free.

Appended to the Poem are the two following
Lyrics : —

AN ODE ON TTTE BATTLE OF BrTNKER'S-niLL.

Sung and acted by a Soldier, in a Mittiary Habit, with hi*
Firelock, tfic, in the same Meaxwewffll aSeapiece, entitled
tlie Temped.

" Cease, rude Boreas, blustering railer."

You bold warriors, who resemble

Flames upon tlie distant hill ;
At whose view the heroes tremble,

Fighting with unequal skill.
Loud-sounding drums, now with hoarse mur-
murs,

Rouse the spirit up to war;
Fear not, fear not, though their numbers,

Much to ours superior are.
Hear brave Warren, bold commanding:
" Gallant souls aud vet'rans brave,
See the enemy just landing,

From the navy-cover'd wave.
Close the wings — advance the centre —

Engineers point well your guns —
Clap the matches — let the rent air

Bellow to Britannia's sons."

n.
Now, think you see three thousand moving,

bp the brow of Bunker's Hill;
Many a gallant vet'ran shoving

Cowards on, against their will.

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CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

The curling volumes all behind them,

Dusky clouds of smoke arise ;
Our cannon-balls, brave boys, 6hall find them,

At each shot a hero dies.
Once more. Warren, 'midst this terror,
" Charge, brave soldiers, charge again;
Many an expert vet'rau warrior

Of the enemy is slain.
Level "well your charged pieces,

In direction to the town ;
They shake, they shake, their lightning ceases ;

That shot brought six standards dowu."

m.

Maids in virgin beauty blooming,

On Britannia's sea-girt isle,
Say no more your swains are coming,

Or with soi.gs the day beguile.
For sleeping found in death's embraces,

On their clay-cold beds they lie ;
Death, grim death, alas, defaces

Youth and pleasure, which must die.
" March the right wing, Gard'ner, yonder;

The hero spirit lives in thunder ;
Take th' assailing foe in flank,

Close there, serjeants, close that rank.
The conflict now doth londly call on

Highest proof of martial skill;
Heroes shall sing of them, who fall on

The slipp'ry brow of Busker's Hill."

rv.
Unkindest fortune, still thou changest,

As the wind upon the wave ;
The good and bad alike thou rangest,

Undistiuguish'd in the grave.
Shall kingly tyrants see thee 6miling,

Whilst the brave and just must die ;
Them of sweet hope and life beguiling

In the arms of victory.
" Behave this day, my lads, with spirit,

Wrap the hill top as in flame ;
Oh ! if we fall, let each one merit

Immortality in famo.
From this high ground, like VesiVus,

Pour the floods of fire along;
Let not, let not numbers move us,

We are yet five hundred strong."

v.
Many a widow sore bewailing

Tender husbands, shall remain,
With tears and sorrows, unavailing,

From this hour to mourn them slain.
The rude scene striking all by-standers,

Bids the little band retire;
Who can live like salamanders,

In such floods of liquid fire?
" Ah, our troops are sorely pressed —

Howe ascends the smoky hill ;
Wheel inward, let these ranks be faced,

We have yet some blood to spill.
Our right wing push'd, our left surrounded,

Weight of numbers five to one;
Warren dead, and Garu'.ner wounded —

Ammunition is quite gone."

See the steely points, bright gleaming

In the sun's fierce dazzling ray ;
Groans arising, life-blood streaming,

Purple o'er the face of day.
The field is cover'd with the dying,

Free-men mixt with tyrants lie,
The living with each other yieing,

Raise the shout of battle high.

Now brave Putnam, aged soldier:

" Come, my vet'rans, we must yield ;

More equal match'd, we'll yet charge bolder,

For the present quit the field.
The God of battles shall revisit

On their heads each soul that dies;
Take courage, boys, we yet shan't miss it,

From a thousand victories."

A MILITARY SONG, BY TnE ABUT, ON GENERAL WASHINGTON'S
VICTORIOUS ENTRY INTO THE TOWN OF BOSTON.

Sons of valor, taste the glories

Of celestial Liberty ;
Sing a triumph o'er the Tories,

Let the pulse of joy beat high.

Heaven, this day, hath foil'd the many.

Fallacies of George their king ;
Let the echo reach Britany,

Bid her mountain summits ring.

See yon navy swell the bosom

Of the late enraged sea;
Where-e'er the\T go we shall oppose them,

Sons of valour must be free.

Should they touch at fair Rhode-Islakk,
There to combat with the brave ;

Driven from each hill and high-land,
They shall plough the purple wave.

Should they thence to fair Virgin!

Bend a squadron to Dunmore ;
Still with fear and ignominy,

They shall quit the hostile shore.

To Carolina or to Georgy,

Should they next advance their fame,
This land of heroes shall disgorge the

Sons of tyranny and shame.

Let them rove to climes far distant,

Situate under Arctic skies,
Call on Hessian troops assistant,

And the savages to rise

Boast of wild brigades from Russia,

To fix down the galling chain;
Canada and Nova Scotia

Shall discharge these hordes again.

In New York state, rejoined by Clinton,
Should their standards mock the air,

Many a surgeon shall put lint on
Wounds of death, received there.

War, fierce war, 6hall break their forces,

Nerves of Tory men shall fail,
Seeing Howe with alter'd courses,

Bending to the western gale.

Thus, from every bay of ocean,
Flying back, with sails unfurl'd;

Tost with evcr-troubl'd motion,
They shall quit this smiling world.

Like Satan, banished from Heaven,

Never see the smiling shore,
From this land so happy, driven,

Never stain its bosom more.

On going to Philadelphia in 1776, Brackenridge
supported himself by editing the United States
Magazine, a periodical of which an anecdote of his
editorship is given by his son. "At one time the
magazine contained some severe strictures on the
celebrated General Lte, and censured him for his
conduct to Washington. Lee, in a rage, called at
the office, in company with one or two of his

HUGH HENRY BRACKENRIDGE.

291

aides, with the intention of assaulting the editor;
he knocked at the door, while Mr. Braekenridge,
looking out of the upper story window, inquired
what was wanting? 'Come down,' said Lee,
1 and I'll give you as good a horse-whipping as
any rascal ever received.' ' Excuse me, general,'
said the other, ' I would not go down for two
Such favors.' "

Like D wight and Barlow, Braekenridge was a
chaplain in the Revolutionary army, preaching
political sermons in the camp. Six"of them wvre-
published at the time in a pamphlet, which had a
large circulation. He delivered an oration on the
4th July, 1778, in honor of those fallen in the
war, in the Dutch Reformed Church in Philadel-
phia.

The hent of his mind was not formed for the
Scotch Presbyterian theology, so lie relinquished
the pulpit for the bar, and studied law with Sa- j
muel Chase, at Annapolis. His son tells us, in his
biographical notice, that " although licensed to j
preach, he was never ordained nor formally con- I
secrated to tlie ministry. As he grew older he j
.became convinced that his natural temperament I
called Win to the scenes of active life. Besides,
he found himself unable to yield a full as-ent to
all the tenets of the church in which he had
been educated.' He declared that for two whole
years he laboured most sincerely and assiduously
to convince himself, but in vain ; and he could
not think of publicly maintaining doctrines, in
which he did not privately believe. On one oc-
casion, in conversation with a Scotch clergyman,
he stated his difficulties. The other replied to
him that he was pretty much in the same predica-
ment. ' Then, how do you reconcile it to your
conscience to preach doctrines of whose truth
you are not fully convinced V ' Hoot, man,' said
he, ' I dinna think much about it— I explain the
doctrine, as I wud a system o' moral philosophy
or metaphysics ; and if I dinna just understand
it noo, the time may come when I shall; and in
the meantime I put my faith in wiser men, who
established the articles, and in those whose heads

are sufficiently clear to understand them. And
if we were tae question but ane o' these doctrines,
it wud be like taking a stane out o' a biggin ; the
whole wa' might fa' doon.' "

In 1781, Braekenridge crossed the Alleghanies
and established himself at Pittsburg — from which
region he was sent to the State Legislature. His
subsequent participation with Gallatin in the
Whiskey Insurrection brought him into general '
notice in the agitations of that period. As a
western man he thought the excise law which the
rioters attempted to put down, oppressive. It
was impossible not to engage to some extent in
their movements, while he exerted his powers to re-
gulate and restrain the actors from the commission
of treason. When that affair was over he took
pains to vindicate his conduct by procuring letters
from the most eminent parties in reply to a cir-
cular letter, and by the publication of his Incidents
of the Insurrection in the Western Parts of Penn-
sylvania in 1794, which was published the follow-
ing year at Philadelphia.

The scenes which he passed through, and his
experience of political life, gave him the material
for his Modern Chivalry, or the Adventures of
Captain Farrago, and league O1 Regan, his Ser-
vant, the first part of which was published in •
1796 at Pittsburgh. The second portion was *■
issued after an interval of ten years. The whole
of Modern Chivalry, with the last corrections
and additions of the author, was published in two
volumes at Pittsburgh in 1819, a book which is
now exceedingly rare. The Philadelphia edition
of 1846, illustrated by Darley, contains only the
contents of the first volume of the former edition.
It was edited by the author's son, II. M. Bracken
ridge, with a preface and biographical sketch. It
is there remarked that this work " is believed
to be entirely unknown in Europe, and that it has
never been noticed by any review." We may
quote from the editor's preface an anecdote of the
author and his reputation in the West : — ■

The author used to relate an incident which oc-
curred to him at a place where he was detained a
day, in consequence of having missed the stage, and
feeling ennui, asked the landlord whether he had
anything amusing to read. " That I have," said he,
at the same time opening a little desk in his bar, and
producing a torn volume' of "Modern Chivalry."
" There," said he, " is something will make you
laugh; and the man that wrote it was no fool
neither." When the author's descendants or rela-
tives happen to be travelling, the first question al-
most invariably asked of them is, " Are you related
to the author of Modern Chivalry?" One of them
having landed on the Mississippi, with the intention
of going to St. Louis, a distance of two hundred
miles by land, on making inquiries for some mode
of conveyance, was addressed by a stranger in these
words : " I understand, sir, your name is Braeken-
ridge. Are you related to the author of Modern
Chivalry?" And on being answered in the affirma-
tive, immediately offered his horse, telling him to
keep him until an opportunity should offer of re-
turning him.

In the West, Modern Chivalry is, or deserves
to be, regarded as a kind of aboriginal classic. It
has the rough flavor of the frontier settlement in
its manly sentiment, and not particularly delicate
expression. Braekenridge was an eccentric man

202

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

in his manners, though of vigorous sense. This
book shows his humors in perfection, and so far
as his ways of thinking go is autobiographic. It
exhibits a warm, generous nature, and a man of
much reading and reflection. The story, with its
few incidents, is modelled upon Hudibras and
Don Quixote, and productions of that ilk. The
humor is after Sterne and Fielding, whose exam-
ple would have been nothing without the natural
ability of the writer to profit by it.

Captain Farrago is a type of the author ; his ser-
vant Teague O'liegan is a humorous invention
which does capital execution with the dema-
gogues, sciolists, and other pretenders of the day.
The work had an object to sow a few seeds of
political wisdom among his fellow citizens, then
little experienced in the use of political power,
and its lessons in this way are profitable still.
The Captain is the representative of Don Quixote,
a clear-headed man, who-e independent way of
looking at things, from living out of the world,
has gained him the reputation of eccentricity.
He is withal a practical wag, setting out with his
Irish servant in quest of adventures. The gist of
Ms observation and experience lies in this, that
the duties and responsibilities of a new state of
society have been thrust upon a rao of men so
suddenly, that, unused to their new democratic
privileges, they are very much in the way of
abusing them. Without political knowledge they
are ready to send the weaver to Congress ; with-
out learning the leatherheads rush in as members
of the philosophical society, and appoint, after
the manner of Dr. O'Toole, a native Irishman to
a Greek profes^or?hip. Teague O'Regan is con-
stantly in danger. He is in momentary risk of
being decoyed from his master, made a clergy-
man of, elected to the philosophical society, or
spirited away to the legislature. After awhile
Teague learns to tell one foot from another by the
aid of a Philadelphia dancing master, is introduced
at the President's levee, and gets the appointment
of Collector of the Excise in the Alleghanies.
This leads to a tarring and feathering, which was
doubtless drawn from the author's reminiscences
of the Whiskey Insurrection. In the meanwhile
the Captain has procured a Scottish servant, Dun-
can, whose dialect is better sustained than that
of his Irish predecessor. Brackenridge's law
learning, his . College reading, his' schoolmaster's
acquisition, his roughly acquired knowledge of
the world, are all displayed in this book. His ex-
planation of bis use of the character of the Irish
clown is curious, and the remarks which follow
are a truthful plea for fiction.

It has been asked, why, in writing this memoir,
have I taken my clown from the Irish nation? The
character of the English clown, I did not well un-
derstand; nor could I imitate the manner of speak-
ing That of the Scotch I have tried, as may be
seen, in the character of Duncan. But I found it,
in my hands, rather insipid. The character of the
Irish clown, to use the language of Rousseau, " has
more stuff in it." He will attempt anything.

The American has in fact, yet, no character;
neither the clown, nor the gentleman ; so that I
eould not take one from our own country ; which I
would much rather have done, as the scene lay here.
But the midland states of America, and the western
parts in general, being half Ireland, the character

] of the Irish clown will not be wholly misunderstood.
It is true the clown is taken from the aboriginal
Irish; a character not so well known in the North
of that country; nevertheless, it is still so 'much
known, even there, and amongst the emigrants here
or their descendants, that it will not be wholly
thrown away.

On the Irish stages it is a standing character; and
on the theatre in Britain it is also introduced. I
have not been able to do it justice, being but half
an Irishman myself, and not so well acquainted
with the reversions, and idiom, of the genuine
Thady, as I could wish. However, the imitation, at
a distance from the original, will better pass than
if it had been written, and read, nearer home. For-
eigners will not so readily distinguish the incongrui-
ties ; or, as it is the best we can produce for the
present, will more indulgently consider them.

I think it the duty of every man who possesses a
faculty, and perhaps a facility of drawing such
images, as will amuse his neighbour, to lend a hand,
and do something. Have those authors done nothing
for the world, whose works would seem to have had
no other object but to amuse ? In low health ; after
the fatigue of great mental exertion on solid disqui-
sition ; in pain of mind, from disappointed passions ;
or broken with the sensibilities of sympathy and
affection ; it is a relief to try not to think, and this
is attainable, in some degree, by light reading. Un-
der sensations of this kind, I have had recourse
more than once to Don Quixote ; which doubtless
contains a great deal of excellent moral sentiment.
But, at the same time, has much that can serve only
to amuse. Even in health, and with a flow of spirits,
from prosperous affairs, it diversifies enjoyments, and
adds to the happiness of which the mind is capable.
I I trust, therefore, that the gravest persons will not
be of opinion that I ought to be put out of church
I for any appearance of levity, which this work may
I seem to carry with it.

I know there have been instances amongst the
Puritans, of clergymen, degraded for singing a
Scotch pastoral. But music is a carnal thing com-
pared with putting thoughts upon paper. It re-
quires an opening of the mouth, and a rolling of
the tongue, whereas thought is wholly spiritual, and
depends not on any modification of the corporeal
organs: Music, however, even by the strictest sects,
is admissible in sacred harmony, whi h is an ac-
knowledgment, that even sound has its uses to soothe
the mind or to fit it for contemplation.

I would ask, which is the most entertaining work,
Smollet's History of England: or his Humphrey
Clinker '( For, as to the utility, so far as that de-
pends upon truth, they are both alike. History has
been well said to be the Romance of the human
mind ; and Romance the history of the heart. "When
the son of Robert Walpole asked his father, whether
he should read to him out of a book of history;
he said, "he was not fond of Romance." This minis-
ter had been long engaged in affairs; and from what
lie had seen of accounts of things within his own
knowledge he had little confidence in the relation
of things which he had not seen. Except memoirs
of persons' own times ; biographical sketches by
cotemporary writers; Voyages, and Travels, that
have geographical exactness, there is little of the
historical kind, in point of truth, before Roderick
Random, or Gil Bias.

The Eastern nations in their tales pretend to
nothing but fiction. Nor is the story with them the
less amusing because it is not true. Nor is the moral
of it less impressive, because the actors never had
existence.

In the second volume of the work the style is

HUGH HENRY BRACKENRIDGE.

293

more didactic but not less genial. It contains the
material of a rare volume of Essays, fresh, inde-
pendent in thought, quaint in humor and expres-
sion.

When Governor McKean secured the demo-
i cratic ascendency by his election in 1799, Brack-
enridge \Vas one of his appointments as Judge in
the Supreme Court of the State, where he pre-
sided with ability till his death in 1816. Brack;
enridge deserves to be better known through his
writing?. His numeri ius miscellanies, scattered in
old pamphlets, periodicals, and newspapers, if
collected would form a pleasing and instructive
commentary .on his times, lie had wit, humor,
and a sound judgment. His judicial decisions
were celebrated for their integrity and indepen-
dence.

Hildreth, no friend to his party, admits — "Even
Brackenridge, whatever his eccentricities and
faults as a man or a politician, proved, in his ju-
dicial character, no disgrace to the bench." *

His social talents must have been of a rare
order. There is a capital anecdote narrated by
Paulding, of his efforts to overcome the gravity
of Washington. The judge, as he relates it, "on
a particular occasion, fell in with Washington at
a public-house, where a large company had
gathered together for the purpose of discussing
the subject of improving the navigation of the
Potomac. They supped at the same table, and
Mr. Brackenridge essayed all his powers of
humor to divert the General; but in vain. He
seemed aware. of his purpose, and listened with-
out a smile. However, it so happened that the
chambers of Washington and Brackenridge ad-
joined, and were only separated from each other
by a thin partition of pine boards. The General
had retired first, and when the judge entered his
own room, he was delighted to hear Washington,
who was already in bed, laughing to himself with
infinite glee, no doubt at the recollection of his
stories." t

AN ELECTION SCENE — FROM MODERN CHIVALRY.

The Captain rising early uext morning, and setting
out on his way, had now arrived at a place where a
number of people were convened, for the purpose
of electing persons (o represent them in the legisla-
ture of the state. There was a weaver who was a
candidate for this appointment, and seemed to have
a good deal of interest among the people. But
another, who was a man of education, was his com-
petitor. Relying on some talent of speaking which
he thought he possessed, he addressed the multitude.

Fellow citizens, said he, I pretend not to any great
abilities ; but am conscious to myself that I have
the best good will to serve you. But it is very
astonishing to me, that this weaver should conceive
himself qualified for the trust. For though my
acquirements are not great, yet his are still less.
The mechanical business which he pursues, must
necessarily take up so much of his time, that he
cannot apply himself to political studies. I should
therefore thiuk it would be more answerable to

* TTistory of the United States.

t Paulding's Life of Washington, ii. l!l4 There is a story-
still circulated in Philadelphia, which he used to tell at the
expense of the Philosophical Society, of a member having
picked up one of the small fashionable lady's fans of those
days, in the gutter, and the society having reported on it as the
wing of a newly discovered bat.

your dignity, and conducive to your interest, to be
represented by a man at least of some letters, than
by an illiterate handicraftsman like this. It will be
more honorable for himself, to remain at his loom
and knot threads than to come forward in a legisla-
tive capacity : because in the one case, he is in the
sphere suited to his education ; iu the other, he is
like a fish out of water, and must struggle for breath
in a new element.

Is it possible he can understand the affairs of
government, whose mind has been concentred to the
small object of weaving webs, to the price by the
yard, the grist of the thread, and such like matters
as concern the manufacturer of cloths ? The feet
of him who weaves, are more occupied than the
head, or at least as much ; and therefore he must be,
at least but in half, accustomed to exercise his men-
tal powers. F7or these reasons, all other things set
aside, the chance is in my favour, with respect to
information. However, you will decide, and give
your suffrages to him or to me, as you shall j udge
expedient.

The Captain hearing these observations, and look-
ing at the weaver, could not help advancing, and
undertaking to subjoin something in support of what
had been just said. Said he, I have no prejudice
against a weaver more than another man. JS'or do
1 know any harm in the trade ; save that from the
sedentary life in a damp place, there is usually a
paleness of the countenance ; but this is a physical,
not a moral evil. Such usually occupy subterranean
apartments ; not for the purpose, like Demosthenes,
of shaving their heads and writing over eight times
the history of Thucydides, and perfecting a style of
oratory; but rather to keep the thread moist; or
because tins is considered but as an inglorious sort
of trade, and is frequently thrust away into cellars,
and damp out-houses, which are not occupied for a
better use.

But to rise from the. cellar to the senate house,
would be an unnatural hoist. To come from count-
ing threads, and adjusting them to the splits of a
reed, to regulate the finauces of a government,
would be preposterous; there being no congruity in
the case. There is no analogy between knotting
threads and framing laws. It would be a reversion
of the order of things. Not that a manufacturer of
linen or woolen, or other stuffs, is an inferior cha-
racter, but a different one, from that which ought to
be employed iu affairs of state. It is unnecessary
to enlarge on this subject; for you must all be con-
vinced of the truth and propriety of what I say.
But if you will gi ve me leave to take the manufacturer
aside a little, 1 think I can explain to hjin my ideas
on the subject; and very probably prevail with him
to withdraw his pretensions. The people seeming
to acquiesce, and beckoning to the weaver, they
withdrew aside, and the Captain addressed him in
the following words:

Mr. Traddle, said he, for that was the name of the
manufacturer, I have not the smallest idea of wound-
ing your sensibility ; but it would seem to me, it
would be more your interest to pursue your occupa-
tion, than to launch out into that of which you have
no knowledge. When you go to the senate house,
the application to you will not be to warp a web;
but to make laws for the commonwealth. Now,
suppose that the making these laws requires a know-
ledge of commerce, or of the interests of agriculture,
or those principles upon which the different manu-
factures depend, what service could you render ? It
is possible you might think justly enough ; but could
you speak? You are not in the habit of public
speaking. You are not furnished with those common-
place ideas, with which even very ignorant men can

294

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

pass for knowing something. There is nothing
makes a man so ridiculous, as to attempt what is
above his sphere. You are no tumbler, for instance;
yet should you give out that you could vault upon a
man's back ; or turn heels over head like the wheels
of a cart; the stiffness of your joints would encum-
ber you ; and you would fall upon your posteriors
to the ground, touch a squash as that, would do you
damage. The getting up to ride on the state is an
unsafe thing to those who are not accustomed to
such horsemanship. It is a disagreeable thing for
a man to be laughed at, and there is no way of keep-
ing one's self from it but by avoiding all affectation.
While they were thus discoursing, a bustle had
taken place among the crowd. 'league hearing so
much about elections, and serving the government,
took it into his head that he could be a legislator
himself. The tiling was not displeasing to the peo-
ple, who seemed to favour his pretensions ; owing,
in some degree, to there being several of his coun-
trymen among the crowd ; but more especially to
the fluctuation of the popular mind, and a disposi-
tion to what is new and ignoble. For though the
weaver was not the most elevated object of choice,
yet he was still preferable to this tatter-demalion,
who was but a menial servant, and had so much of
what is called the brogue on his tongue, as to fall
far short of an elegant speaker.

The Captain coming up, and finding what was on
the carpet, was greatly chagrined at not having been
able to give the multitude a better idea of the im-
portance of a legislative trust ; alarmed also, from
an apprehension of the loss of his servant. Under
these impressions he resumed his address to the
multitude. Said he, this is making the matter still
worse, gentlemen : this servant of mine is but a
bog-trotter, who can scarcely speak the dialect in
which your laws ought to be written ; but certainly
has never read a single treatise on any political sub-
ject; for the truth is, he cannot read at all. The
young people of the lower class, in Ireland, have
seldom the advantage of a good education ; espe-
cially the descendants of the ancient Irish, who have
most of them a great assurance of countenance, but
little information or literature. This young man,
whose family name is O'Regan, has been my servant
for several years ; and, except a too great fondness
for women, which now and then brings him into
scrapes, he has demeaned himself in a manner tole- !
rable enough. But he is totallj- ignorant of the !
great principles of legislation ; and more especially
the particular interests of the government. A free ]
government is a noble acquisition to a people: and
this freedom consists in 'an equal right to make laws,
and to have the benefit of the laws when made.
Though doubtless, in such a government, the lowest
citizen may become chief magistrate ; yet it is suf-
ficient to possess the right, not absolutely necessary
to exercise it. Or even if you should think proper, I
now and then, to show your privilege, and exert, in |
a signal manner, the democratic prerogative, yet is
it not descending too low to filch away from me a
hireling, which I cannot well spare? You are surely
carrying the matter too far, in thinking to make a
senator of this ostler; to take him away from an
employment to which he has been bred, and put him
to another, to which he has served no apprentice-
ship : to set those hands which have been lately
employed in currying my horse, to the draughting
bills, and preparing business for the house.

The people were tenacious of their choice, and
insisted on giving Teague their suffrages ; and by
the frown upon their brows, seemed to indicate
resentment at what had been said ; as indirectly
charging them with want of judgment; or calling

in question their privilege to do what they thought
proper. It is a very strange thing, said one of them,
who was a speaker for the rest, that after having
conquered Burgoyne and Cornwallis, and got a
government of our own, we cannot put in it whom
we please. This young man may be your servant,
or another man's servant ; but if we choose to make
him a delegate, what is that to you ? He may not
be yet skilled in the matter, but there is a good day
coming. We will empower him ; and it is better to
trust a plain man like him than one of your high-
flyers, that will make laws to suit their own pur-
poses.

I had much rather, said the Captain, you would
send the weaver, though I thought that improper,
than to invade my household, and thus detract from
me the very person that 1 have about me to brush
my boots, and clean my spurs.

The prolocutor of the people gave him to under-
stand that his objections were useless, for the people
had determined on the choice, and Teague they
would have, for a representative.

Finding it answered no end to expostulate with
the multitude, 'he requested to speak a word with
Teague by himself. Stepping aside, he said to him,
composing his voice, and addressing him in a soft
manner : Teague, yon are quite wrong in this matter
the}' liuve put into your head. Do you know what
it is to be a member of a deliberative body? What
qualifications are necessary? Do you understand
anything of geography? If a question should be
put to make a law to dig a canal in some part of the
state, can you describe the bearing of the mountains,
and the course of the rivers ? Or if commerce is to
be pushed to some new quarter, by the force of
regulations, are you competent to decide in such a
case? There will be questions of law and astrono-
my on the carpet. How you must gape and stare
like a fool, when you come to be asked your opinion
on these subjects! Are you acquainted with the
abstract principles of finance ; with the funding
public securities; the ways and means of raising the
revenue; providing for the discharge of the public
debts, and all other things which respect the econo-
my of the government? Even if you had know-
ledge, have you a facility of speaking? I would
suppose you would have too much pride to go to
the house just to say, ay or no. This is not the fault
of your nature, but of your education; having been
accustomed to dig turf in your early years, rather
than instructing yourself in the classics, or common
school books.

When a man becomes a member of a public body,
he is like a racoon, or other beast that climbs up
the fork of a tree ; the boys pushing at him with
pitchforks, or throwing stones or shooting at him
with an arrow, the dogs barking in the mean time.
One will find fault with j-our not speaking; another
with your speaking, if you speak at all. They will
put you in the newspapers, and ridicule you as a
perfect beast. There is what they call the cariea-
tura ; that is, representing you with a dog's head, or
a cat's claw. As you have a red head, they will
very probably make a fox of you, or a sorrel horse, .
or a brindled cow. It is the devil in hell to be
exposed to the squibs and crackers of the gazette
wits and publications. You know no more about
these matters than a goose ; and yet you would
undertake rashly, without advice, to enter on the.
office ; nay, contrary to advice. For I would not
for a thousand guineas, though I hare not the half
to spare, that the breed of the O'Regans should come
to this; bringing on them a worse stain than steal-
ing sheep; to which they are addieted. You have
nothing but your character, Teague,- in a new couu-

HUGH HENRY BRACKENRIDGE.

295

try to depend upon. Let it never be said, that you
quitted an honest livelihood, the taking care of my
horse, to follow the new-fangled whims of the times,
and be a statesman.

'league was moved chiefly with the last part of
the address, and consented to relinquish his preten-
sions.

The Captain, glad of this, took him back to the
people, and announced his disposition to decline the
honor which they had intended him.

Teague acknowledged that he had changed his
mind, and was willing to remain in a private station.

The people did not seem well pleased with the
Captain; but as nothing more could be said about
the matter, they turned their attention to the weaver,
aud gave him their suffrages.

TEAGUE A MEMBER OF THE PHILOSOPHICAL 60CIETY.

There was, in a certain great city, a society who
called themselves Philosophers. They had published
books, under the title of Transactions. These con-
tained'dissertations on the nature and causes of
things, from the stars of heaven to the fireflies of
the earth; and from the sea-crab to the woodland
buffaloe. Such disquisitions are doubtless useful
and entertaining to an inquisitive mind.

There is no question but there were in this body
some very great men ; wdiose investigations of the
arcana of nature deserve attention. But so it was,
there had been introduced, by some means, many
individuals, who were no philosophers at all. This
is no unusual thing with institutions of this nature;
though, by the bye, it is a very great fault. For it
lessens the incentives of honor, to have the access
made so easy that every one may obtain admission.
It has been a reproach to some colleges, that a
diploma could be purchased for half a crown. This
society were still more moderate ; for the bare
scratching the posteriors of a member has been
known to procure a membership, At least, there
have been those admitted, who appeared capable
of nothing else.

Nevertheless, it was necessary, even in these cases,
for tlie candidates to procure some token of a philo-
sophic turn of mind , such as the skin of a dead
cat, or some odd kind of a mouse-trap ; or have
phrases in their mouths, about minerals and petri-
factions; so as just to support some idea of natural
knowledge, and pass muster. There was one who
got in, by finding, accidentally, the tail of a rabbit,
which had been taken off in a boy's trap. Another
by means of a squirrel's scalp, which he had taken
care to stretch and dry on a bit of osier, bended in
the form of a hoop. The beard of an old fox, taken
off and dried in the sun, was the means of intro-
ducing one whom I knew very well : or rather, as I
have already hinted, it was beforehand intended he
should be introduced ; and these exuviae, or spoils
of the animal kingdom] were but the tokens and
apologies for admission.

It happened as the Captain was riding this day,
and Teague trotting after him, he saw a large owl,
that had been shot by somebody, and was placed in
the crotch of a tree, about the height of a man's
head from the ground, for those that passed by to
look at. The Captain being struck with it, as some-
what larger than such birds usually are, desired
Teague to reach it to him ; and tying it to the hinder
part of his saddle, rode along.

Passing by the house of one who belonged to the
society, the bird was noticed at the saddle-skirts, and
the philosopher coming out, made enquiry with
regard to the genus and nature of the fowl. Said
the Captain, I know nothing more about it than that
it is nearly as large as a turkey buzzard. It is

doubtless, said the other, the great Canada owl, that
comes from the Lakes ; and if your honor, will give
me leave, I will take it and submit it to the society,
and have yourself made a member. As to the first,
the Captain consented; but as to the last, the being
a member, he chose rather to decline it ; conceiving
himself unqualified for a place in such a body. The
other assured him that he was under a very great
mistake ; for there were persons there who scarcely
knew a B from a bull's foot. That may be, said the
Captain: but if others choose to degrade themselves,
by suffering their names to be used in so preposte-
rous a way as that, it was no reason he should.

The other gave him to understand, that the society
would certainly wish to express their sense of his
merit, aud show themselves not inattentive to a vir-
tuoso ; that as he declined the honor himself, he
probably might not be averse to let his servant take
a seat among them.

He is but a simple Irishman, said the Captain, and
of a low education : his language being that spoken
by the aborigines of his country. And if he speaks
a little English, it is with the brogue on his tongue,
which would be unbecoming in a member of your
body. It would seem to me that a philosopher
ought to know how to write, or at least to read ; but
Teague can neither write nor read. He can sing a
song or whistle an Irish tune ; but is totally illite-
rate in all things else. I question much if he could
tell you how many new moons there are in the year;
or any the most common thing you could ask him.
He is a long-legged fellow, it is true ; and might be
of service in clambering over rocks, or going to the
shores of rivers to gather curiosities. But could
you not get persons to do this, without making them
members? I have more respect for science, than to
suffer this bog-trotter to be so advanced at its
expense.

In these American states, there is a wide field for
philosophic research ; and these researches may be
of great use in agriculture, mechanics, aud astrono-
my There is but little immediate profit attending
these pursuits; but if .there can be inducements of
honor, these may supply the place. What more
alluring to a young man, than the prospect of being
one day received into the society of men truly
learned ; the admission being a test and a proof of
distinguished knowledge. But the fountain of
honor, thus contaminated by a sediment foreign
from its nature, who would wish to drink of it ?

Said the philosopher, at the first institution of the
society by Dr. Franklin and others, it was put. upon
a narrow basis, and only men of seience were con-
sidered proper to compose it ; and this might be a
necessary policy at that time, when the institution
was in its infancy, and could not bear much draw-
back of ignorance. But it has not been judged so
necessary of late years. The matter stands now on
a broad and catholic bottom ; and like the gospel
itself, it is our orders, " to go out into the highways
and hedges, and compel them to come in." There
are hundreds, whose names you may see on our list,
who are not more instructed than this lad of yours.

They must be a sad set indeed then, said the
Captain.

Sad or no sad, said the other, it is the case; and
if you will let Teague go, I will engage him a mem-
bership.

I take it very ill of you, Mr. Philosopher, said the
Captain, to put this nonsense in his head. If you
knew what trouble I have lately had with a parcel
of people that were for sending him to Congress,
you would be unwilling to draw him from me for
the purpose of making him a philosopher. It is not
an easy mitter to get hirelings now-a-days; aud

296

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

when you do get one, it is a mere chance, whether
he is faithful, and will suit your purpose. It would
be a very great loss to me, to have him taken off at
this time, when I have equipped myself for a
journey.

Teague was a good deal incensed at this refusal
of Iris master, and insisted that he would be a phi-
losopher. You are an ignoramus, said the Captain.
It is not the being among philosophers, will make
you one.

Teague insisted that he had a right to make the
best of his fortune : and as there was ,a door open
to his advancement he did not see why he might not
make use of it.

The Captain finding that it answered no end to
dispute the matter with him by Words of sense and
reason, took a contrary way to manage him.

Teague, said he, I have a regard for you, and
would wish to see you do well. But before you
take this step, I would wish to speak a word or two
in private. If you will go, I may perhaps suggest
some things that may be of service to you, for your
future conduct in that body.

Teague consenting, they stepped aside; and the
Captain addressed him in the following manner:

Teague, said he, do you know what you are about?
It is a fine thing at first sight to be a philosopher,
and get into this body. And indeed, if you were a
real philosopher, it might be some honor, and also
safe, to take that leap. But do you think it is to
make a philosopher of you that they want you ?
Far from it. It is their great study to find curiosi-
ties ; and because this man saw you coming after
me, with a red head, trotting like an Esquimaux
Indian, it has struck his mind to pick you up, and
pass you for one. Nay, it is possible they may
intend worse ; aDd when they have examined you
awhile, take the skin off you, and pass you for an
overgrown otter, or a musk-rat, or some outlandish
animal, for which they will themselves invent a
name. If you were at the museum of one of these
societies, to observe the quantity of skins and skele-
tons thej' have, you might be well assured they did
not come by them honestly. I know so much of
these people, that I am well persuaded they would
think no more of throwing you into a kettle of boil-
ing water, than they would a terrapin ; and having
scraped you out to a shell, present you as the relics
of an animal they had procured at an immense price,
from some Guinea merchant. Or if they should not
at once turn you to this use, how, in the mean time,
will they dispose of you ? They will have you away
through the bogs and marshes, catching flies and
mire-snipes ; or send you to the woods to bring a
polecat ; or oblige you to descend into draw-wells,
for fog, and phlogistic air, and the Lord knows what.
You must go into wolves' dens, and catch bears by
the tail: run over mountains like an opossum, and
dig the earth like a ground-hog. You will have to
climb over trees, and be bit by flying-squirrels.
There will be no end to the musquetoes you will
have to dissect. What is all this, to diving into
milldams and rivers, to catch craw-fish ? Or if you
go to the ocean, there are alligators to devour you
like a cat-fish. Who knows but it may come your
turn, in a windy night, to go aloft to the heavens, to
rub down the stars, and give the goats and rams
that are there, fodder? The keeping the stars clean
is a laborious work ; a great deal worse than scour-
ing andirons or brass kettles. There is a bull there,
would think no more of tossing you on his horns
than he would a puppy dog. If the crab should
get you into his claws, he woidd squeeze you like a
lobster. But what is all that to 30111' having no
place to stand on ? How would you bike to be up

at the moon, and to fall down when you had missed
your hold, like a boy from the topmast of a ship,
and have your brains beat out upon the top of some
great mountain ; where the devil might take your
skeleton and give it to the turkey-buzzards ?

Or if they should, in the mean time, excuse you
from such out-of-door services, they will rack and
torture you with hard questions. You must tell
them how long the rays of light are coming from
the sun ; how many drops of rain fall in a thunder-
gust; what makes the grasshopper chirp when the
sun is hot ; how muscle-shells get up to the top of
the mountains; how the Indians got over to Ameri-
ca. You will have to prove that the negroes were
once white ; and that their flat noses came by some
cause in the compass of human means to produce.
These are puzzling questions: and yet you must
solve them all. Take my advice, and stay where
you are. Many men have ruined themselves by
their ambition, and made bad' worse. There is
another kind of philosophy, which lies more within
your sphere ; that is moral philosophy. ' Every
hostler or hireling can study this, and you have the
most excellent opportunity of acquiring this know-
ledge in our traverses through the country, or com-
munications at the different taverns or villages,
where we ma}' happen to sojourn.

Teague had long ago, in his own mind, given up
all thoughts of the society, and would not for the
world have any more to do with it; therefore, with-
out bidding the philosopher adieu they pursued
their route as usual.

CAPTAIN FAEEAGO'S INSTRUCTIONS TO TEAGUE ON THE DUELLO.

Having thus dismissed the secondary man, he call-
ed in his servant Teague, and accosted him as fol-
lows : Teague, said he, you have heretofore discover-
ed an ambition to be employed in some way that
would advance your reputation. There is now a
case fallen out, to which you are fully competent.
It is not a matter that requires the head to contrive,
but the hand to execute. The greatest fool is as fit
for it as a wise man. It is indeed your greatest
blockheads that chiefly undertake it. The know-
ledge of law, physick, or divinity, is out of the ques-
tion. Literature and political understanding is
useless. Nothing more is necessary than a little
resolution of the heart. Yet it is an undertaking
which is of much estimation with the rabble, and has
a great many on its side to approve' and praise it.
The females of the world, especially, admire the act,
and call it valour. I know you wish to stand well
with the ladies. Here is an opportunity of advanc-
ing your credit. I have had what is called a chal-
lenge sent me this morning. It is from a certain
Jacko, who is a suitor to a Miss Vapour, and has
taken offence at an expression of mine, respecting
him, to this female. I wish you to accept the chal-
lenge, and fight him for me.

At this proposition, Teague looked wild, and made
apology that he was not much used to boxing. Box-
ing, said the Captain, you are to fight what is called
a dud. — You are to encounter him with pistols, and
put a bullet through him if you can. It is true, he
will have a chance of putting one through you; but
in that consists the honour; for where there is no
danger, there is no glory. You will provide your-
self a second. There is an hostler here at the public
house, that is a brave fellow, and will answer the
purpose. Being furnished with a second, you will
provide yourself with a pair of pistols, powder and
ball of course. In the mean time your adversary,
notified of your intentions, will do the like. — Thus
equipped, you will advance to the place agreed upon.
The ground will be measured out ; ten, seven, or

HUGH HENRY BRACKEXRIDGE.

297

five steps ; back to back, and coming round to your
place, fire. Or taking your ground, stand still and
fire; or it may be, advance and fire as you meet, at
what distance you think proper. The rules in this
respect are not fixed, but as the parties can agree, or
the seconds point out. When you come to fire, be
sure you keep a steady hand, and take good aim.
Remember that the pistol barrel being short,
the powder is apt to throw the bullet up. Your
sight, therefore, ought to be about the waist-
band of his breeches, so that you have the whole
length of his body, and his head in the bargain,
to come and go upon. It is true, he in the mean
time will take the same advantage of you. lie
may hit you about the groin, or tlie bell}7. I have
known some shot in the thigh, or the leg. The
throat also, anil the head, are in themselves vulnera-
ble. It is no uncommon thing to have an arm broke,
or a splinter struck ott" the nose, or an eye shot out :
but as in that ease the ball mostly passes through
the brain, and the man being dead at any rate, the
loss of sight is not greatly felt-
As the Captain spoke, Teague seemed to feel in
himself every wound which was described, the ball
hitting him, now in one part, and now in another.
At the last words, it seemed to pass through his
head, and he was half dead, in imagination. Making
a shift to express himself, he gave the Captain to un-
derstand, that he could by no means undertake the
office. What ! said the Captain ; you whom nothing
would serve some time ago but to be a legislator,
or a philosopher, or preacher, in order to gain fame,
will now decline a business for which you are quali-
fied ! This requires no knowledge of finances, no
reading of natural history, or any study of the fa-
thers. You have nothing more to do than keep a
steady hand and a good eye.

Ih the early practice of this exercise, I mean the
combat of the duel, it was customary to exact an
oatli of the combatants, before they entered the lists,
that they had no enchantments, or power of witch-
craft, about them. — Whether you should think it
necessary to put him to his voir dire, on this point, I
shall not say ; but I am persuaded, that on your part
you have too much honour, to make use of spells, or
undue means, to take away his life or save your own.
You will leave all to the chance of fair shooting.
One thing you will observe and which is allowable
in this battle ; you will take care not to present
yourself to him with a full breast, but angulaHy, and
your head turned round over the left shoulder, like
a weather-cock. For thus a smaller surface being
presented to an adversary, he will be less likely to
hit you. You must throw your legs into lines paral-
lel, and keep them one directly behind the other.
Thus you will stand like a sail hauled close to the
wind. Keep a good countenance, a sharp eye, and
a sour look ; and if you feel any thing like acholic,
or a palpitation of the heart, make no noise about it.
If the ball should take you in the gills, or the gizzard,
fall down as decently as you can, and die like a man
of honour.

It was of no use to urge the matter ; the Irishman
was but the more opposed to the proposition, and
utterly refused to be after fighting in any such man-
ner. The Captain, finding this to be the case, dis-
missed him to clean his boots and spurs, and rub
duwn his horse in the stable.

On reflection, it seemed advisable to the Captain
to write an answer to the card which Colonel or
Major Jacko, or whatever his title may have been,
had sent him this morning. It was as follows : —
Sm,

I have two objections to this duel matter. The
one is, lest I should hurt you; and.the other is, lest

you should hurt me. I do not see any good it would
do me to put a bullet thro' any part of your body.
I could make no use of you when dead for any culi-
nary purpose, as I would a rabbit or turkey. I am
no cannibal to feed on the flesh of men. Why then
shoot down a human creature, of which I could make
no use? A buffaloe would be better meat. For
though your flesh may be delicate and tender ; yet
it wants that firmness and consistency which takes
and retains salt, xlt any rate, it would not be fit for
long sea voyages. You might make a good barbacue,
it is true, being of the nature of a racoon or an opos-
sum ; but people are not in the habit of barbacuing
any thing human now. As to your hide, it is not
worth talcing off, being little better than that of a
year old colt.

It would seem to me a strange thing to shoot at a
man that would stand still to be shot at; inasmuch
as I have been heretofore used to shoot at things
flying, or running, or jumping. — Were you on a tree
now, like a squirrel, endeavouring to hide yourself
in the branches, or like a racoon, that after much
eyeing and spying, I observe at length in the crutch
of a tall oak, with boughs and leaves intervening, so
that I could just get a sight of his hinder parts, I
should think it pleasurable enough to take a shot at
you. But as it is, there is no skill or judgment re-
quisite either to discover or take you down.

As to myself, I do not much like to stand in the
way of any thing harmful I am under apprehen-
sions you might hit me. That being the case, I
think it most advisable to stay at a distance. If you
want to try your pistols, take some object, a tree or
a barn door, about my dimensions. If you hit that,
send me word, and I shall acknowledge that if I had
been in the same place you might also have hit me.

J. F.

AN ESSAY ON COMMON SENSE.

After thinking a good deal upon what might be
given as a definition of common sense ; in other
words, what phrase might be substituted in lieu of
it ; for that is what is meant by a definition ; I would
try whether the phrase, natural judgment, would not
do. Getting up a little in the world, and examining
mankind, there was nothing that struck me so much
as to find men, thought eminent in a profession, seem-
ing to want judgment in matters of. knowledge,
which was common to me with them. I took it for
granted, that it was owing to the mind being so
much employed in a particular way, that it had no
habit of thinking in any other; and doubtless there
is a good deal in this. For a mathematician, capa-
ble . of demonstrating all the problems of Euclid ;
and even of inventing shorter and clearer me-
thods of demonstration, may be incapable of compar-
ing ideas, and drawing conclusions on a matter
of domestic economy or national concern. For
though a great deal may be owing to a know-
ledge of the particular subject, and a habit of think-
ing upon it; yet as much or moie depends upon the
natural judgment. I will select the instance of a
lawyer, because it is in that profession that I have
had an opportunity, the most, of examining the ori-
ginal [lowers of the mind. In this profession 1 have
found those of the highest reputation of legal know-
ledge, and who were so, and yet were not the most
successful in particular causes. The reason was, that
though they had a knowledge of rules, they failed in
the application of them and had not given good ad-
vice, in bringing or defending the action in which
they had been .consulted. Or whether the causo
were good or bad, they had wanted judgment in
conducting it. The attempting to maintain untena-
ble ground ; or the points upon which they put the

298

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

cause, showed a want of judgment. It is the same
thing in the case of a judge. The knowledge of all
law goes but a little way to the discerning the jus-
tice of the cause. Because the application of the
rule to the case, is the province of judgment. Hence
it is that if my cause is good, and I am to have my
choice of two judges, the one of great legal science,
. but deficient in natural judgment ; the other of good
natural judgment, but of no legal knowledge, I would
take the one that had what we call common sense.
For though I could not have a perfect confidence in
the decision of one or the other, 3'et I would think
my chance best with the one that had common sense.
If my cause was bad, I might think I stood some
chance with the learned judge, deficient in natural
judgment. An ingenious advocate would lead off
his mind, upon some quibble, and calling that law,
flatter him upon his knowing the law, and least his
knowledge of it should be called in question, the
learned judge might determine for him. For there
is nothing that alarms a dunce so much as the idea
of reason. It is a prostrating principle that puts him
upon a level with the bulk of mankind. The know-
ledge of an artificial rule sets him above these, and
is, therefore, maintained by him with all the tenacity
of distinguishing prerogative. To a weak judge, de-
ficient in natural reason, a knowledge of precedents
is indispensable. In the language of Scotch presby-
terian eloquence, there is such a thing as liukes and
e'en to hand up a crippled Christian's bre'eks ; or, in
English, hooks and ej'es, which wore before buttons
and button-holes, to answer the same purpose with
pantaloons or sherryvallies. Such are cases to a
judge, weak in understanding ; because these give
him the appearance of learning, and having made
research.

But it does not follow, that I undervalue legal
knowledge in a lawyer, or judge, or resolve all into
common sense in that or any other profession or oc-
cupation.

I select, in the next instance, that of a physician.
What can one do in this profession, without medical
knowledge ? And yet without good sense, the phy-
sician is as likely to kill as to cure. It is the only
means that one who is not a physician himself has
to judge of the skill of one who calls himself such,
what appears to be the grade of his mind, and his
understanding upon common subjects. We say, he
does not appear to have common sense ; how can he
be trusted in his profession ? Common sense, I take
to be, therefore, judgment upon common subjects:
and that degree of it which falls to the share of the
bulk of mankind. For even amongst the common
people, we speak of mother wit, which is but another
name for common sense. Clergy wit, is that of
school learning ; or the lessons of science, in which
a dunee may be eminent. For it requires but me-
mory and application. But the adage is the dictate
of experience, and the truth of it is eternal, " An
ounce of mother wit is worth a pound of clergy."

We speak of an egregious blockhead, and say, he
has not even common sense : that is, he has not the
very thing that is necessary to begin with ; and
which every person is usually endowed with, that
has the proportions of the human form. It seems to
be something bordering on instinct, and resembles it
in the uniformity and certainty of its operations. It
is that without which it is not worth while attempt-
ing to make a great man. What is a general with-
out common sense — that is, natural judgment? But
■why talk of generals, or lawyers, or judges, or go so
far from home ? Where we see, as we sometimes
do, the want of natural judgment, in the manage-
ment of a man's own affairs, on a small scale ; whe-
ther of merchandise, or of manufactures, or farming,

we say that he cannot succeed ; and in general,
though not always, the want of success in common
pursuits, is owing to inexperience, or a want of natu-
ral judgment. The quibbling in a matter of con-
tract ; the evasion of fulfilment, is a want of natural
judgment. I think the poet says,

The want of honesty is want of sense.
There can be nothing more true. And 1 think it is
remarkable, that in those divine writings, which we
call, by way of eminence, the scriptures, dishonesty
is called folly ; and honesty wisdom. Common sense
is that degree of understanding which is given to
men in general, though some are peculiarly favour-
ed with uncommon powers. But no man can be
said to have common sense who is a knave. For,
of all things, it is the strongest proof of a want of
judgment upon an extensive scale. Had I the world
to begin again, with all the experience that years
have given me. and were to think myself at liberty,
from all considerations of duty or obligation ; yet,
on the principle of self-injtfrest, I would be honest,
and exceed, rather than come short, in giving to all
their due. For it is the adage, and as true as any
of the apothegms that we hear, that honesty is the
best policy. Indeed all the rules of morality are but
maxims of prudence. They all lead to self-preserva-
tion ; and had they no other foundation, they would
rest upon this, as sufficient to support them. The
discerning mind sees its interest as clear as a ray of
light, leading it to do justice. Let me see any man
quibble and evade, cheat or defraud, and I do not
say constructively, and with a reference to a future
state, but in relation to this life, and his temporal
affairs, that he is unwise ; that is, he wants the judg-
ment to perceive his true interest. This is the pre-
sumption ; and when knavery is found to consist with
strong powers, I resolve it into defect of fortitude,
or want of resolution, to be what the man must
know what he ought to be. The

-Video meliora proboqne,

Deteriora sequor-

is correct. Present gain is preferred to future good ;
like the child that wishes the tree cut down, that it
may have all the fruit at one season. The feelings
of resentment, or of love and strong passions, ambi-
tion or avarice, like tempests on the ocean, take away
the presence of mind, and baffle the skill of the navi-
gator. Therefore my reasoning docs not apply in
cases where the passions are concerned. But in a
case of dispassionate judging, as in a matter of mcum
and tuum, between indifferent persons ; or where
the question may be, by what means an object is
most directly attainable, the strength of natural
judgment, or common sense, shows itself. Where the
crooked path is chosen, or the false conception is en-
tertained, we say there is a want of common sense.

PROPHECY OF THE GBEATNE6S OF AMERICA — FEOM TUE KISI>~U
GLORY OF AMERICA.

Eugenia. 'Tis true no human eye can penetrate
The veil obscure, and in fair light diselos'd
Behold the scenes of dark futurity ;
Yet if we reason from the course of things,
And downward trace the vestiges of time,
The mind prophetic grows and pierces far
Thro' ages yet unborn. We saw the states
And mighty empires of the East arise
In swift succession from the Assyrian
To Macedon and Rome; to Britain thence
Dominion drove her ear, she streteh'd her reign
O'er many isles, wide seas and peopled lands.
IS'ow in the West a continent appears ;
A newer world now opens to her view;
She hastens onward to th' Americ shores

WILLIAM WHITE.

299

And bids a scene of recent wonders rise.

New states, new empires, and a line of kings,

High raised in glory, cities, palaces,

Fair domes on each long bay, sea, shore, or stream,

Circling the hills, now rear their lofty heads.

Far in the Arctic skies a Petersburg!),

A Bergen or Archangel lifts its spires,

Glitt'ring with ice, far in the West appears

A new Palmyra or an Ecbatan, ■

And sees the slow pac'd caravan return

O'er many a realm from the Pacific shore,

Where fleets shall then convey rich Persia's silks,

Arabia's perfumes, and spices rare

Of Philipine, Ceelebe, and Marian isles,

Or from the Acapuleo coast our India then,

Laden with pearl, and burning gems and gold.

Far in the South I see a Babylon,

As once by Tigris or Euphrates stream,

With blazing watch-tow'rs and observatories

Rising to heaven ; from thence astronomers

With optic glass take nobler views of God,

In golden suns and shining worlds display'd,

Thau the poor Chaldean with the naked eye.

A Nineveh where Oronoque descends

With waves discolor'd from the Andes high,

Winding himself around a hundred isles

Where golden buildings glitter o'er his tide.

Two mighty nations shall the people grow

Which cultivate the banks of many a flood,

In crystal currents poured from the hills,

Apalachia named, to lave the sands

Of Carolina, Georgia, and the plains

Stretch'd out from thence far to the burning line,

St. John's, or Clarendon, or Albemarle.

And thou Patowmnck, navigable stream,

Rolling thy waters through Virginia's groves,

Shall vie with Thames, the Tiber, or the Rhine,

For on thy banks I see an hundred towns.

And the tall vessels wafted down thy tide.

Hoarse Niagara's stream now roaring on

Thro' woods and rocks, and broken mountains torn,

In days remote, far from their ancient beds,

By some great monarch taught a better course,

Or cleared of cataracts shall flow beneath

Unnumbcr'd boats, and merchandize, and men;

And from the coasts of piny Lubradore,

A thousand navies crowd before the gale,

And spread their commerce to remotest lands,

Or bear their thunder round the conquer'd world.

Lcand'T. And here fair freedom shall for ever
reign.
I see a train, a glorious train appear,
Of patriots plac'd in equal fame with those
Who nobly fell for Athens or for Rome.
The sons of Boston resolute and brave,
The firm supporters of our injured rights,
Shall lose their splendors in the brighter beams
Of patriots famed and heroes yet unborn.

Acasto. 'Tis but the morning of the world with us,
And science yet but sheds her orient rays.
I see the age. the happy age roll on
Bright with the splendors of her mid-day beams.
1 see a Homer and a Milton rise
In all the pomp .and majesty of song,
Which gives immortal vigor to the deeds
Achiev'd by heroes in the fields of fame.
A second Pope, like that Arabian bird
Of which no age can boast but one, may yet
Awake the muse by Schuylkill's silent stream,
And bid new forests bloom along her tide.
And Susquehanna's rocky stream unsung,
In bright meanders winding round the hills,
Where first the mountain nymph sweet echo heard
The uncouth music of my rural lay.
Shall yet remurmur to the magic sound

Of song heroic, when in future days
Some noble Hampden rises into fame.

Leauder On Roanoke's and James's limpid waves
The sound of music murmurs in the gale ;
Another Denham celebrates their flow,
In gliding numbers and harmonious lays.

JEugenio. Now in the bowers of Tuscarora hills,
As once on Pindus all the muses stray,
New Theban bards high soaring reach the skies,
And swim along thro' azure deeps of air.

Leauder. From Alleghany in thick groves im-
brown'd,
Sweet music breathing thro' the shades of night
Steals on my ear, they sing the origin
Of those fair lights which gild the firmament ;
From whence the gale that murmurs in the pines ;
Why flows the stream down from the mountain's

brow,
And rolls the ocean lower than the land?
They sing the final destiny of things,
The great result of all our labors here,
The last day's glory and the world renew'd.
Such are their themes, for in these happier days
The bard enraptur'd scorns ignoble strains.
Fair science smiling and full truth revealed,
The world at peace, and all her tumults o'er,
The blissful prelude to Emanuel's reign.

Acasto. This is thy praise, America, thy pow'r,
Thou best of climes by science visited,
By freedom blest, and richly stor'd with all
The luxuries of life. Hail, happy land,
The seat of empire, the abode of kings,
The final stage where time shall introduce
Renowned characters, and glorious works
Of high invention and of wond'rous art,
Which not the ravages of time shall waste
Till he himself has run his long career;
Till all those glorious orbs of light on high,
The rolling wonders that surround the ball,
Drop from their spheres extinguished andconsum'd;
When final ruin with her fiery ear
Rides o'er creation, and all nature's works
Are lost in chaos and the womb of night.

WILLIAM WHITE.

William White was born in Philadelphia, April
4, 17 48 (March 24, 1747, Old Style). He was pre-
pared for college at the Latin school by the
celebrated teachers Paul Jackson and John Beve-
ridge, the Latin poet, whom lie calls "a thorough
grammarian, with little else to recommend him."*
An anecdote of his early days is related by one
of his playfellows. We give it in tluj words of
the narrator from the Rev. Dr. Wilson's Memoir:
"It has been thought that the bent of the genius,
and the probable future pursuits in life, are some-
times indicated by the amusements most attrac-
tive in early youth. A few circumstances of that
nature, occurring while he was very young, have
been communicated to me. They were repeatedly
related by a lady who was his intimate playmate
from a very early age, and about a year and a
half older than he was; a daughter of Mr. Ste-
phen Pascal,t a member of the society of Friends,!

* Letter to Bp. Ilobart.

t Afterwards married to Mr. Levi ITollingswnrtU, and the
mother of my brother-in-law. She died only a few years be-
fore the Bishop. The circumstances were communicated by
Mrs. Susan Eckard.

J Dr. White was much esteemed and beloved by the mem-
bers of that society. After he became a bishop, it was not
uncommon for some of them, even of the most plain and strict,
to speak of him as " our good bishop."

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CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

residing in the house adjoining Colonel "White's.
That lady bore testimony to his early piety, and
was wont to say, when she was herself advanced
in life, 'Billy White (so she continued to call
him) was horn a bishop. I never could persuade
him to play any thing but church. He would tie
his own or my apron round his neck, for a gown,
and stand behind alow chair, which he called his
pulpit; I, seated before him on a little bench, was
the congregation ; and he always preached to me
about being good. One day,' she added, 'I
heard him crying, and saw him running into the
street, and the nuFse-inaid after him, calling to
him to come back and be dressed. He refused,
saying, I do not want to go to dancing-school, and
I won't be dressed, for I don't think it is good to
learn to dance. And that was the only time I
ever knew Billy White to be a naughty boy.'
The lady who gave me these anecdotes, and in
whose own language nearly they are related,
added that she had the pleasure of repeating these
reminiscences of his childhood to the Bishop :
they amused him; and he told her that his
mother, finding that he was so averse to learning
to dance, gave it up; 'though,' he said, 'lam
by no means opposed to others learning, if they
like to dance.' "

He completed his collegiate course in his seven-
teenth year, and soon entered upon a preparation
for the career of his choice. He was much im-
pressed at this period of his life by the preaching
of Whiteiield.

In 1770, White visited England to obtain ordi-
nation. He was a neighbor during a portion of
his residence in London of Goldsmith, and de-
scribes an interview with him : —

We lodged, for some time, near to one another, in
Brick Court, of the Temple. I bad it intimated to
him, by an acquaintance of both, that I wished for
the pleasure of making him a visit. It ensued ; and
in our conversation it took a turn which excited in
me a painful sensation, from the circumstance that a
man of such a genius should write for bread. His
"Deserted Village" came under notice; and some
remarks were made by us on the principle of it —
the decay of the peasantry. He said, that wei'e he
to write a pamphlet on the subject, he could prove
the' point incontrovertibly. On his being asked, why
he did not set his mind to this, his answer was: " It
is not worth my while. A good poem will bring me
one hundred guineas : but the pamphlet would bring
me nothing " This was a short time before my leav-
ing of England, and I saw the Doctor no more.

He also visited Johnson.

Having mentioned some literary characters, who
became personally known to me in the university, I
will not omit, although extraneous to it, that giant
of genius and literature, Dr. Samuel Johnson. My
introduction to him was a letter from the Rev. Jona-
than Odell, formerly missionary at Burlington. The
Doctor was very civil to me. I visited him occasion-
ally ; and I know some who would be tempted to
envy me the felicity of having found him, one morn-
ing, in the act of preparing his dictionary for a new
edition. His harshness of manners never displayed
itself to me, except in one instance ; when he told
me that had he been prime minister, during the then
recent controversy concerning the stamp act, lie
would have sent a ship of war, and levelled one of
our principal cities with the ground. On the other

hand,, I have heard from him sentiments expressive
of a feeling heart ; and convincing me, that he would
not have done as he said. Having dined in company
with him, in Kensington, at the hou.se of Mr. Elphin-
stone, well known to scholars of that day, and re-
turning in the stage-coach with the Doctor, I men-
tioned to him there being a Philadelphia edition of
his " Prince of Abyssinia." He expressed a wish to
see it. I promised to send him a copy on my return
to Philadelphia, and did so. He returned a polite
answer, which is printed in Mr. Boswell's second
edition of his Life of the Doctor. Mr. (since the
Rev. Dr.) Abercrombie's admiration of Dr. Johnson
had led to a correspondence with Mr. Boswell, to
whom, with my consent, the letter was sent.*

Having been ordained deacon and priest, he
returned to his native city, in September, 1772,
and was chosen an assistant minister of Christ
and St. ••Peter's churches. In 1773, he married
Miss Mary Harrison.

From the outset of the Revolution he sided with
his countrymen, but took no active part in the
struggle. In his own words, " I never beat the
ecclesiastic drum. * * Being invited to preach
before a battalion, I declined; and mentioned to
the colonel, who was fine of the warmest spirits
(jf the day.t my objections to the making of the
ministry instrumental to the war." He continued
to pray. for the king until the signing of the
declaration of independence, when he took the
oath of allegiance to the United States. During
its administration, an acquaintance made a sig-
nificant gesture of the neck. The clergyman re-
marked, "I perceived by your gesture that you
thought I was exposing my neck to great danger
by the step which I have taken. But I have not
taken it without full deliberation. I know my
danger, and that it is the greater on account of
my being a clergyman of the Church of England.
But I trust in Providence. The cause is a just
one, and I am persuaded will be protected."

In September, 1777, he was chosen one of the
chaplains of Congress. "The circumstances,"
says his biographer, "attending his acceptance of
this appointment were sometimes detailed by him,
in conversation with bis friends, in a lively man-
ner. Bishop Kemper, of Missouri and Indiana,
who was present on some such occasions, men-
tions to me that he related them thus: 'Thar he
had removed with his family to Maryland; and
being on a journey, stopped at a small village be-
tween Harford county and Philadelphia, at which
he was met by a courier from Yorktown, inform-
ing him of his being appointed by Congress their
chaplain, and requesting his immediate attendance:
that he thought of it for a short time; it was in
one of the gloomiest periods of the American affairs,
when General Burgoyne was marching, without
having yet received a serious check, so far as was
then known, through the northern parts of New

* There was sent, not the letter, as I supposed, but a copy of
it. This fact was not known to me. until the following fnei
dent. Dining at the taWeof President Washington, and sitting
near to Mr. Swanwick. then a member of Congress, this related
anecdote having been given by me to a few gentlemen within
bearing. Mr. gwanwiek. bearing of the sending of the letter,
corrected the error: and declaiming on the subject, expected
to see the time when the letter would be worth two thousand
guineas. (Note bv the Bishop in 1880.)

t The colonel alluded to was Timothy Matlack. whose ar-
dor in the American cause cannot but be still remembered by
many. I^ote by the Bishop in 1630.)

WILLIAM WHITE.

301

York : can:l after his short consideration, instead
of proceeding on his journey, he turned his
horses' heads, travelled immediately to Yorktown,
and entered on the duties of his appointment.' "
After the. evacuation of Philadelphia by the
British, White was the only clergyman - of his
communion who remained in the state. As soon
as peace was concluded he took an active part in
the re-organization of the Episcopal church, and
at the first regular convention of the state was
elected bishop. He soon after sailed to England,
in company with the Rev. Dr. Provoost, who
had been elected bishop in New York, to apply
for consecration. An act of parliament having
been passed to remove the obstacles which had
prevented action in the case of Bishop Seabury,
both were consecrated by the Archbishop of Can-
terbury, in the chapel of Lambeth palace, Feb. 4,
1787. They soon after returned, landing at New
York on Easter Sunday. Bishop White returned
to Philadelphia, where he resided when not absent
on his official duties daring the remainder of his
long lite. He published, in 1813, Lectures on the
Catechism of the Protestant Episcopal Church :
with supplementary lectures; one on the Ministry,
the other on the Public Service : ami Dissertations
on Select Subjects in the Lectures; in 1817, Com-
'paratUe Views of the Controversy betioeen the
CahinU's awl the Arminims, 2 vols. 8vo. ; in
1820, Memoirs of the Protestant Episcopal
Church iii the United States of America, re-
printed in 1835, with a continuation to that
period. A number of Sermons, Episcopal Charges,
and Pa;tn-al Letters, delivered in the course of
his ministry, were published separately. The
Memoirs consist of a brief narrative of the early
conventions and subsequent history of the Episco-
pal Church after the Revolution. The charac-
teristic modesty of their author led him to touch
very briefly upon his own services, and the his-
torical value of the work is consequently less than
it otherwise would have been. In 1817, at the
request of Bishop Ilnhart, he addressed to that
prelate a letter containing an account of his life
up to the period at which the Memoirs commence.
He commences as follows : —

A few years ago you requested of me to prepare
for you so.ne notice* of the most material circum-
stances of my early life. Compliance was intended,
but lias been delayed, in common with many things
which may be done at. any time. It is now under-
taken, with a protest against being understood to be-
lieve, that the '0 have been sueh events as can make
up a volume of biography ; otherwise than by the
hilp of tliat art ot book-making, which has been
much employed of late years on private history ; but
■the exercise of which [ should be sorry to foresee
on a life of so little variety or celebrity as mine.

In consequence of this caveat, the Bishop's
biographer, the Rev. Dr. Bird Wilson, has not
printed this important letter. He, however, re-
fers to it, as furnishing the chief material of his
Memoir,* published in 1839.

We extract the chief portion of the Bishop's
" Additional Instructions for the Missionaries to
China," prepared and delivered in his eighty-

* Memoir of the Life of the El. Rev. William White, D.D.,
Bishop oi the Protestant Kpiseopal Church in the State of
Pennsylvania. By Bird Wilson, D.D.. Professor of Systematic
Divinity in the General Theological Seminary.

! eighth year, to Messrs. Hanson and Lockwood, the
first missionaries sent out by the Protestant Epis-
i copal Church to that country : —

In the tie which binds you to the Episcopal church,
there is nothing which places you in the attitude of
hostility to men of any other Christian denomination,
and much which should unite you in affection to those
occupied in the same cause with yourselves. You
should rejoice in their successes, and avoid as much
as possible all controversy, and all discussions which
may provoke it, on points on which they may differ
from our communion, without conforming in any
point to what we consider as erroneous. If contro-
versy should be unavoidable, let it be conducted
with entire freedom from that bitterness of spirit, and
that severity of language which cannot serve the
cause of God under any circumstances; while in the
sphere which you will occupy they will be repulsive
from a religion which produces no better fruits on
the tempers of its teachers. In the vicissitudes of
European commerce, and especially in that of Can-

; ton, you will find many who speak your language,
and whose object is the pursuit of commerce. It is

1 to be lamented that no European government has
sustained even the appearance of divine worship
among these its distant subjects. Perhaps they may
show themselves indifferent or even hostile to your
design. In either case you wdll keep the even tenor
of your wa3T ; not moved by the fear or expectation
of the favour of men. It may happen incidentally
to your ministry that some of these temporary resi-
dents shall he brought by it to a better mind in
regard "to the things which belong to their peace."
Especially they ought to be cautioned of the responsi-
bility which they would incur by discouragement of
the endeavours for the conversion of the heathen;
while, under notice of missionaries employed for that
purpose, there are so many professing the same faith,
" yet living without God in the world." You can-
not, be ignorant that in a former age the Christian
religion was extensively propagated in China ; being
countenanced by successive emperors, and by others
of high rank in the empire. K either can it be un-
known to you that this was succeeded by an exten-
sive persecution of all wdio owned the name of Christ,
It is certain that the change arose from the inter-
ference of the decrees of a foreign jurisdiction with
immemorial usages of the Chinese. It is an old sub-

i ject of debate whether those decrees were called for
by the integrity of Christian truth. Without dis-
cussing the question of them, the reason of noticing
them is to remark, that in reference to foreign juris-
diction there can he no room for any difficulty con-
cerning it within our communion ; which holds the
church in every country to be competent to self
government in all matters left to human discretion.
No faithful minister of our church will, in any in-
stance, relax a requisition of the Gospel, in accom-
modation to unscripturnl prejudices of his converts;
but he will not bind them in an)' chain not bound on

I them by his Master. It has even been said that the
court of Pekin found itself in danger of being
brought under subjection to a foreign prelate. In
proportion to the odium of sueh a charge, the con-
verted Chinese should be assured of safety in the
enjoyment of the liberty ." wherewith Christ hath
made them free."

In proposing the. evidences of the Christian reli-
gion to the Chinese, and indeed to heathens of any
description, there is to be avoided the alternate dan-
ger, on the one hand, of the measuring of success by
any excitement of sensibility, which may he short-
lived'; and on the other, the not exhibiting of the
subject i;i sueh a point of view as shall show it to be

302

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAS LITERATURE.

congenial with the best sensibilities of onr nature.
The ground taken by the apostles must certainly be
that which may most safely be taken bj' all the
ministers of the Gospel. When St. Peter addressed
a Jewish audience, as in the second chapter of Acts,
he laid the stress on ancient prophecy. And when
St. Paul addressed heathen audiences, as. in sundry
passages of the same book, the argument used by
him was the recent miracle of the resurrection.
These are points which associate themselves with the
liveliest of our hopes, and tend to the excitement of
our best affections ; yet it is through the door of the
understanding that truth enters in order to the taking
of possession of the heart, It is still the ground of
prophecy and of miracles on which the truth of
Christianity must be advocated ; although not with-
out their connection with that sinfulness of human
nature to which the contents of the Gospel are so
admirably adapted ; laying in it the only foundation
of trust in the pardon of sin, and of claim of
deliverance from its thraldom ; and in addition be-
ing fruitful of consolation, and a sure guide through
life, and a stay of dependence in the hour of death
and the day of judgment. Let but these interesting
subjects take possession of the mind,, and its na-
tural language will be, "What shall I do to be
saved ?"

When the Gospel is preached to a heathen at the
present day, we ought not to forget to extend to his
case that forbearance of divine mercy which St. Paul
disclosed when he said to the Athenians, " the times
of this ignorance God winked at." Even when we
have arrested his attention, but without reaching the
point of his conviction, we ought not to be hasty^ in
assuring ourselves that there may not be wanting
something conciliatory in manner; or, perhaps, .that
there may be something repulsive in it. We ought
therefore to wait in patience for more auspicious
moments, and not rashly conclude that there is a
" hating of the light, lest the deeds should be re-
proved." When there is contemplated the aggre-
gate of Christian evidence; when there is seen that
through the long tract of four thousand years there
was a chain of history, of prophecy, of miracle, and
of prefiguration, looking forward to a dispensation
to be disclosed at the end of that portion of time ;
when it is seen that there was then manifested the
great sacrifice which fulfilled all thathadgonebefore;
and when there is read the record of a sacrifice
commemorative of the same, to be perpetuated until
the second coming of the divine Ordainer, to sit in
judgment on the world : it is a mass of proof, which,
properly presented, will command the assent of un-
biassed men in all times and places ; progressing in
its influence to the promised issue, when " all the
kingdoms of the world shall have become the king-
doms of our Lord and of His Christ."

The portrait of White, painted by Inman, re-
presents a countenance of great purity and bene-
volence; one of the noblest types of personal
character of our forefathers, which we are accus-
tomed to associate with the friendships of Wash-
ington.

The modesty of Bishop White, with no lack of
patriotic or Christian firmness, for he maintained
on proper occasions the distinctive principles of
his communion, and he remained at his post as a
city clergyman during the terrible visitations of
the yellow fever, was as remarkable as his worth.

The memory of his virtues and the recollection
of his appearance are cherished by his friends, and
well deserve to be.

For the last forty years of his life, Dr. White
was Senior and consequently Presiding Bishop of
the United States. His course on theological
questions was regulated by the quiet and mode-
rate character of his mind. He died after a short
illness, during the time of morning service on
Sunday, July 17, 1836.

ISAIAH THOMAS,

The eminent printer, newspaper writer, and
founder of the American Antiquarian Society,
was born in Boston, January 19th, 1749. At six
years of age, he was apprenticed to Zacbariah.
Fowlc, a ballad printer, and his first essay waa
setting one of these ballads, " The Lawyer's Pedi-
gree," in double pica. After learning his profes-
sion, andpursuing some wandering adventures from
Nova Scotia to South Carolina, he returned to Bos-
ton in 1770, to engage with his old master in the
publication of the Massachusetts Spy. In 1774,
when his political Whig course, carried on with
spirit in his paper, became obnoxious to the
authorities, he conveyed his types to Worcester,
where he continued his paper.* In various ways
Thomas remained connected with the paper till
1801. In 1788, he carried on the publishing
■business at Boston, in the firm of Thomas and
Andrews. The Massachusetts Magazine was
issued by them in eight volumes, from 1789 to
1796. He was connected with Carlisle at Wal-
pole, in book-publishing and printing the Farmers
Museum, and extended his business widely in
other quarters. At Worcester, he published a
folio Bible, Watts's Psalms and Hymns, with Bar-
low's additions, and a long series of the books in
vogue in the day, travels, theology, biography,
&c, including a set of chap books for the enter-
tainment, instruction, and love of the marvellous
throughout the country, His judgment was good.
A book is likely to be of some interest which has
his name attached. In 1810, he published his
History of Printing. It commences with a brief
history of the art of book production from the
earliest known manuscripts to the date of its
issue. This is followed by a history of printing
in America brought down to the end of the last
century ; an account of the progress of the art in
each state, and of the principal printers, being
given. The work also contains a history of news-
papers and an appendix of valuable notes.

Isaiah Thomas published his New England Al-
manac, which had something of the flavor of
Franklin's "Poor Richard." It first appeared in
1775, and was continued with several titles for
forty-two years, twenty-six by the father, thirteen
by the son, and three years by William Manning, f

His most beneficent work, however, was -the
leading part which he took in the foundation, in
1812, of the American Antiquarian Society at
Worcester, of which he was elected the first Presi-
dent. He furnished the library with books from the

* On the 3d May. 1774. "This," says Buckingham, "was
the first printing that was executed in any inland town in New
England."

t A curious account of "Thomas's Almanac." in the Boston
Saturday Rambler, by T. Y\*. Harris, the librarian of Harvard.

BERNARD ROMANS.

303

stores of his own valuable collection, amounting
in all to between seven and eight thousand bound
volumes, a large number of tracts, and one of the
most valuable series of newspapers in the coun-
try ; erected a building for their reception on his
own ground, and bequeathed the land and hall to
the Society, with a provision equal to twenty-four
thousand dollars for its maintenance. In the en-
joyment of this legacy, the institution now occu-
pies a tine library building, which is situated on
a new lot, given to the Society, on one of the
finest sites in the town.

Another considerable donor to the Society was
the Rev. William Bentley, of ( Salem, a zealous
collector of books and scientific curiosities. At
his death, in 1819, he bequ. ".thee1 his library and
cabinet chiefly to the college at Meadville, Penn-
sylvania, and to the Antiquarian Society.*

One of the rarities of the library is the Mather
collection, which consists of about a thousand
volumes, once belonging to the three scholars and
divines. Mr. Haven, in r, communication to Mr.
Jewett, remarks, "this is, perhaps, the oldest "pri-
vate library in the country that has been trans-
mitted from one generation to another. It was
obtained from Mrs. Hannah Mather Crocker,
grand-daughter of Cotton Mather, a".1 only re-
maining representative of the family in Boston,
partly by gift and partly by put chase. It is called
in the records, ' The remains of the ancient
library of the Mathers,' and was considered by
Isaiah Thomas as 'the oldest library n New
England, if not in the United States.' With
these books was obtained a large collection of
tracts and manuscripts belonging to the Mathers,
the latter consisting of sermons, diaries, correj
pondence, and common-places. Mauy of the
tracts are political, and relate to the period of the
Revolution and the Commonwealth in England. "t

The library now numbers (1854) some twenty-
three thousand volumes, under the charge of the
librarian, Mr. S. F. Haven, the author of a valu-
able contribution — the account of the Origin of
the Massachusetts Company and of its Members^
— to the historic literature of New England.

Antiquarian Society Hall.

* Bentley, for nearly twenty years, edited the Essex Regis-
ter, was a democrat in politics, of extensive acquaintance with
languages, and constantly employed with his pen, leaving a
great number of MSS. He published several sermons, a col-
lection of Psalms and Hymns, and a History of Salem, in the
Historical Collections.— Buckingham's New;
ii. 841.

t Letter of S. F. Haven,
braries, p. 46.

X Transactions American Antiquarian Society, vol. iii.

Newspaper Literature,
Jewett's Notices of Public Li-

The two first volumes of the Society's publica-
tions, the Archeeologia Americana, include
Caleb Atwater's Description of Western Anti-
quities and Albert Gallatin's Synopsis of the
| Indian Tribes of North America.

The light, airy alcoves of the new hall, rich in
old American periodical, newspaper, and other
literature, with its choice stores of MSS., particu-
larly of the old ecclesiastical history of New
England, seldom preserved with equal care, are a
noble monument to the far-sighted literary zeal of
Isaiah Thomas.

The benevolence of Thomas was not confined
to his own town. He left liberal bequests of
books and money to the library at Harvard and
the Historical Society of New York.

Ho died at Worcester, April -ith, 1831, in his
: eighty-second year.

BERNARD ROMANS.
In" 1775, Captain Bernard Romans published
at New York, A Concise Natural History of
East and West Florida; containing, an account
of the natural Produce of all the Southern part
of British America, in the three Kingdoms of
Nature, particularly the Animal and Vegetable.

| Likewise, the Artificial Produce now raised, or
possible to he raised, and. manufactured there,
with some commercial and political observations
in that part of the world, and a Chorographical
Account of the amc. To which is added by Way

I of Appendix, Plain and Easy Directions to Na-
vigators over the Bank of Bahama, the Coast of

I the two Floridas, the North of Cuba, and the
dangerous Gulph Passage. Noting, also, the
hitherto unknown Weltering Places in that Part
of America, intended principally for the use of

j such vessels as may be so unfortunate as to be dis-

j tressed h-j weather in that difficult part of the
world.

This ample title-page renders an account of the
contents of the work unnecessary. It is well,
though somewhat grandiloquently written, and its
information is minute and well arranged. It is
"Illustrated with twelve Copper Plates, and two
whole-sheet Maps." The copper plates are very
rudely executed, and consist mainly of " charac-
teristic heads" of the various Indian tribes of the
country. The allegorical frontispiece is very cu-
rious. It contains a shield on which are inscribed
the letters S.P.Q.A. This is placed beside a
seated female figure, having in one hand a rod on
the end of which is a liberty cap. She wears a
helmet, and smiles benignantly at an Indian who
is unrolling a map at her feet. Beside him is a
water god pouring copious streams from a jar on
each side of him, one of which is labelled Mis-
sissippi. The remaining space is dry land, upon
which a chunky cherub is measuring off distances
with a compass on an outspread map.

Bernard Romans, of Pensacola, appears as the
author of a letter on the compass, dated August,
1773, in the Transactions of the American Philo-
sophical Society. Romans was an engineer in
the British service, but was employed, about the
period of the publication of this work, by the
American government in constructing Fort Con-
stitution, on the island opposite West Point. He
applied for a commission in the American army,

30i

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

which was refused him, and he soon afterwards
abandoned his task.

In 1778 he published a second work, Annals of
the Troubles in the Netherlands, from the Acces-
sion of Charles V. Emperor of Germany. In
four parts. A Proper and Seasonable Mirror for
the present Americans. Collected and Translated
from the most approved Historians in the Native
Tongue. Volume 1. It was published in Hart-
ford, and " dedicated (by permission) to His Ex-
cellency, Jonathan Trumbull, Esq., Governor and
Commander in Chief in and over the State of
Connecticut and its dependencies, Captain Gene-
ral and Admiral of the same, &c. &c. &c." In the
preface Romans claims the merit of a translator
only, and says, "As a foreigner, it cannot be ex-
pected that I should excel in elegance of compo-
sition or correctness of language. May the dreary
examples," he continues, " through which I lead
you be a comfort to you (respected Americans)
who are so highly favored by Providence, as in
all appearance to obtain the glorious blessings
contended for, with infinite less trouble and hard-
ships than fell to the lot of those heroes, whose
sufferings in freedom's cause are exhibited in this
work."

The Captain does not appear to have got beyond
one volume in either of his works. The one on
Florida, from its rarity, commands a very high
price; it exhibits a curious typographical pecu-
liarity, the pronoun, I, being printed throughout,
except at the commencement of a sentence, with
a small i.

Tea, a 'despicable wee.d, and of late attempted to
be'made a dirty conduit, to lead a stream of oppres-
sions into these happy regions, one of the greatest
causes of the poverty, which seems for some years
past to have preyed on the vitals of Britain, would
not have deserved my attention had it not so uni-
versally become a necessary of life ; and were not
most people so infatuated as more and more to esta-
blish this vile article of luxury in America, our gold
and silver for this dirty return is sent to Europe,
from whence, being joined by more from the mo-
ther-country, it finds its way to the Chinese, who,
no doubt, find sport in this instance of superior wis-
dom of the Europeans. These considerations, joined
to the additional evil of its being a monopoly of the
worst kind, and the frauds of mixing it with leaves
of other plants, ought to raise us here, to introduce
the plant (which is of late become pretty common
in Europe) into these provinces, where the same cli-
mate reigns as in China, and where (no doubt) the
same soil is to be found ; by this means we may
trample under foot this yoke of oppression, which
has so long pressed the mother country, and begins
to gall us very sore ; and will the Europeans (ac-
cording to an unaccountable custom of despising all
our western produce, when compared to oriental
ones) avoid drinking American tea! Be not ye so
infatuated, ye sons of America, as not to drink of
your own growth ! Learn to save your money at
home! I cannot think this advice contrary to the
interest of Britain, for whatever is beneficial to the
colonies will, in the end, be at least equally so to the
mother country.

DAVID EAMSAT.

Ramsat, the historian of the Revolution, was
born, April 2d, 17-19, in Lancaster county, Penn-

sylvania. He was the son of an Irish emigrant.
Before studying at the College of New Jersey,
which lie entered at the age of thirteen, he passed
a year as assistant tutor in an academy at Carlisle.
O.n leaving college, he was for a while a tutor in
Maryland; he then studied medicine at the Col-
lege of Pennsylvania, where he made the ac-
quaintance of Rush, which exercised an import-
ant influence on his after life. He settled in
Charleston, S. C, as a practitioner, and soon rose
to distinction by his general powers of mind,
particularly exerted in the cause of the Revolu-
tion. He delivered to the citizens a patriotic
oration on the second anniversary of the Declara-
tion of Independence, in 1778. He wrote, among
other occasional papers relating to the times, a
Sermon on' Tea, from the text, "Touch not, taste
not, handle not," in which he caricatured Lord
North ; a tract for the times, which had consider-
able popularity. He was army surgeon at the
siege of Savannah, a member of the state legis-
lature, and, in the fortunes of the war, was for a
time prisoner at St. Augustine. He was in Con-
gress in 1782 and 1785, in the latter year pub-
lishing his History of the Revolution in South
Carolina, and preparing his History of the
American Revolution, by inspection of public
documents and conferences with Franklin, Wither-
spoon, whose daughter he had married, and with
"Washington, at Mount Vernon. This history was
published in 1790. It would appear from some
verees of Freneau on the subject, that the work
was prohibited in Great Britain : — ■

But alas ! their chastisement is only begun—
Thirteen are the states — and the tale is of one ;
When the twelve yet remaining their- stories have

told,
The king will run mad — aud the book will be sold.

This work was translated and published in
France.

JOHN PARKE.

305

His Life of Washington, dedicated to the youth
of the United States, appeared in 1801. In 1808,
he published his History of South Carolina, an
extension of A Sketch of the Soil, Climate, Wea-
ther, and Diseases of South Carolina, which he
had published in 1796.

In 1811, Ramsay lost his second wife, the
daughter of Henry Laurens, and a lady of great
accomplishments and benevolence. She read
Greek familiarly. Of her liberality and pious
disposition it is related, that when in France she
received five hundred guineas from her father,
she employed it for the purchase and distribution
of testaments and the establishment of a school.
Memoirs of Martha Laurens Ramsay, with Ex-
tracts from her Diary, were published by her
husband shortly after her death.

The medical publications of Ramsay include
A Review of the Improvements, Progress, and
State of Medicine in the Eighteenth Century, in
1S00; A Medical Register for the year 1802; A
Dissertation on the Means of Preserving Health
in Charleston, and a Enlogium and Life of Dr.
Rush before the Medical Society of Charleston,
June 10, 1813; a valuable biographical sketch,
in which he displays a warm personal admiration
and close study of the character of his old friend
and preceptor.

In 1815, Ramsay printed a History of the In-
dependent or Congregational Church in Charles-
ton, S. C, from its origin till the year 1814,
including, in an Appendix, the speech of its pas-
tor, the Rev. Wm. Tennent, in the House of
Assembly, Charleston, on the Dissenting Petition
for Equality of Religious Denominations in the
eye of the Law.

Ramsay also published an Oration on the
Acquisition of Louisiana and a Biographical
Chart, on a New Plan, to facilitate the Study of
History.

His industry was a proverb — carrying out the
economy of time of Franklin and Rush to its
maximum. He slept but four hours, rose before
daylight, and meditated, book in hand, while he
waited for the dawn. Besides Ins historical com-
positions and the pursuit of his profession, he took
under his charge the general philanthropic and
social movements of the day, urging them fre-
quently in the press, ffis private fortune was
injured by his enthusiastic speculations.

While in the full activity of his intellectual oc-
cupations, when he had just completed his sixty-
sixth year, he suddenly fell a victim to the insane
attack of a lunatic, by whom, in open day, within
a few paces of his own dwelling, he was shot with
a pistol loaded with three balls, one of the wounds
from which caused his death the second day, May
8th, 1815.

His posthumous writings are voluminous: A
History of the United States from their first set-
tlement, as English colonies to the end of the year
1808, which was published in Philadelphia in 1816,
with a continuation to the Treaty of Ghent by
the Rev. Samuel Stanhope Smith, and a Universal
History Americanized, or an Historical View of
the World from the Earliest Records to the Nine-
teenth Century, with a particular reference to
the State of Society, Literature, Religion, and
form _ of Government of the University of
America, which found its way to the press in

TOL. I. 20

Philadelphia, in twelve volumes octavo, in 1819.
This last work had occupied its author for more
than forty years.

JOHN PAEKE.

In 1786, in Philadelphia, a literary novelty for
the times appeared in a volume entitled The
Lyric Wor/cs of Horace, translated into English
verse : to which are added, a number of original
Poems, by a Native of America* This was
John Parke, of whom we learn from Mr. Fisher's
notice of the Early Poets of Pennsylvania, that
he was probably a native of Delaware, and born
about the year 1750, since he was in the college
at Philadelphia in 1768; that "at the com-
mencement of the war he entered the American
army, and was attached, it is supposed, to
Washington's division, for some of his pieces are.
dated at camp, in the neighborhood of Boston,
and others at Whitemarsh and Valley Forge.
After the peace he was for some time in Phila-
delphia, and is last heard of in Arundel county,
Virginia."t

Parke's use of the Odes and Epistles of Horace
is a glory which the sanguine anticipation of the
Venusian never dreamt of. Having done their
duty nobly in old Rome, in compliments to Maece-
nas and encouragements to Augustus, in triumph
over barbaric hosts, and in the gentler celebration
of love, friendship, and festivity, they emerge
like the stream of Arethusa on a new continent,
in gushing emotions to General Washington, Ben-
jamin Franklin, Nathan Rumsey, Esq., A.B., and
the Reverend Samuel Magaw.

' Parke's book, if the honors of Horatian feli-
city in poetry be denied it, can fall back on its
claims as a rather comprehensive Revolutionary
directory. The inscriptions at the head of the
odes are quite a catalogue of the worthies of tho
time. Augustus does duty for several persons : —
The Reverend William Smith, the late Provost,
the Hon. Thomas M'Kean, his Excellency Benja-
min Franklin, and even " His Most August Ma-
jesty" Louis XVI. Maecenas, in the same way,
is in turn, the Right Honorable Major-General
William Earl of Stirling; the Hon. John Vining,
member of Congress for the Delaware State;
Brigadier-General Richard Butler, and the Hon.
Major-General Varnum, of Rhode Island. An
Ode to Mercury is addressed to Charles M'Knight,
Esq., M.D., professor of anatomy and surgery in
Columbia College, New York; the exquisite one
belonging to Quintus Dellius is assigned to the
Hon. Colonel Samuel Wyllis, of Hartford, Con-
necticut; the delicate appeal to Pompeius Gros-
pbus in behalf of moderation and equanimity, is
laid at the feet, though it is hardly to bo recog-
nised in the least degree in the translation, of
John Carson, M.D., Philadelphia. The ship
which carried Virgil to Athens is again refitted,
to bear the Rev. James Davidson on the Atlantic

* The Lyric Works of riorace, translated into English
verse : to which are added, a number ol" Original Poems. By
a Native of America.

Qni cupit optatam cursu contingere mctam,

Multa tulit fecitque puer

Philadelphia: Printed by Eleazer Oswald, at the Coffee House.
17S0. 8vo. pp. 334.
t Mems. Hist, Soc. Penns. vol. ii. part ii. p. 100.

306

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

wave. The bacchanal ode?, we perceive, are
very generally addressed to officers of the army.
There does not appear to have been anything
time-serving in this, for while he looks well after
the great, he " ne'er forgets the small." The
thirty-eighth ode of the first book,

Persicos odi puer apparatus,

is affectionately " addressed to my waiter, Jabez
Trapp, a soldier." For does he forget his pub-
lisher. The famous last ode of the third book,
Exegi monumentum sere perennius,

is inscribed " to Lieutenant-Colonel Eleazer Os-
wald, of the American Artillery," and is thus
translated : —

TO MELPOMENE.

Addressed to Lieutenant- Colonel Eleazee Oswald, of the
American Artillery.

A monument I've rais'd that shall surpass,
In firm duration, one of solid brass ;
Higher than Egypt's pyramid that stands.
With tow'ring pride, the work of kingly hands,
Unmov'd it shall outbrave the wasting rain,
While feeble north winds threaten it in vain:
The countless years, and whirling time may fly;
Tet this stands fast and clnims eternity.
I will not wholly die ; for fame shall save
My nobler part, and rescue from the grave;
While mitred priests the Capitol ascend,
And vestal maids the silent pomp attend,
Where down Ofanto rolls his rapid stream,
And humbler waters, known by Daunus' name,
Who o'er a warlike people fix'd his throne. —
There shall my fnme to latest time be known:
While future ages shall the bard admire,
Who tun'd to Grecian sounds the Roman lyre.
Then, Muse, assume the merit justly thine,
And for my brows a wreath of laurel twine.
Spottswood, June, 1778.

In the preface there is further mention of this,
where Mr. Parke tells us that " he has made free
to address the ode to his very worthy friend and
fellow-soldier, Lieutenant Oswald, &c, not only
on account of his ushering this work into the
world, but for his many eminent virtues as a
brave soldier and good citizen. The hardships
he has suffered, the toils he has endured, and the
many trying vicissitudes he has experienced in
the defence of his coimtry, entitle him to the
esteem of every patriotic and virtuous American."

This preface shows Parke to have been a man
of reading, and we may suppose him to have had
access for its composition to the stores of the
Loganian library. He is quite learned and criti-
cal in a miscellaneous way, and has brought to-
gether a considerable stock of interesting notices,
biographical and critical, of the poet. He appears
to have kept a scrap-book on this favorite topic,
in which he copied such poetical versions of
Horace as came to his hand from the magazines
and other English sources. He has included a
number of these among his own, sometimes
taking the whole ode, and at others interpolating
Lines and verses, but scrupulously pointing out his
indebtedness in each case, in his preface.* A

* We have seen John Adams, the clergyman of Newport,
employing his pen upon Horace (ante, p. 134), and Logan trans-
lating the Cato Major. There is another early instance in the (

specimen of the latter is the ninth ode of the
third book, in which the first, second, third, and
seventh stanzas belong to Alexander Pope.

TO LOLLnjS.

Imitated — Addressed to his Eoxt llency Benjamtn Feanexitt,
Esquire, LL.D. F.E.S., Minuter Plenipotentiary from the
United States to the Court of Versailles, t&c. dc.

Lest you should think that verse shall die,
Which sounds the silver Thames along,

Taught on the wings of truth to fly
Above the reach of vulgar song :

Though daring Hilton sits sublime,

In Spencer, native muses play ;
Nor yet shall Waller yield to time,

Or pensive Cowley's moral lay.

Sages and chiefs long since had birth

Ere Ccesar was, or Newton nam'd;
Those rais'd new empires o'er the earth,

And these new Heavens and systems fram'd,

Grosvenor was not the only fair

By an unlawful passion fir'd ;
Who, the gay trappings and the hair

Of a young royal spark admir'd.

Mugene and Marlhrd , with their host

Were not the first in battle fnm'd:
Columbia more wars could boast,

Ere mighty Washington was nam'd.

Before this western world was sought,
Heroes there were who for their wives,

Their children, and their country fought,
And bravely sacrific'd their fives.

Vain was the chief's, the sage's pride,
They had no poet and they died:
In vain they schem'd, in vain they bled,
They had no poet and are dead.

What diff'rence then can virtue claim

From vice, if it oblivious lie?
While I can sing your spotless name,

Tour worthy deeds 6hall never die.

Nor shall oblivion's livid power

Your patriotic toils conceal :
Alike in good, or adverse hour,

A patron of the common-weaL

Forever faithful and sincere,

Your hands from gilded baits are free:

The public villain stands in fear
You should perpetual consul be.

The knave possest of shining pelf,
Can never sway your honest choice :

For justice, emblem of yourself,
Exalts above the rabble's voice.

Rev. Caleb Alexander's Works of Virgil Translated into lite-
ral Englishprose ; u-Uh some Explanatory Notes. Printed at
Worcester, Mass., by Leonard Worcester, for David West, of
Boston. 1796. 8vo. pp. 673. The Latin is on one side
and the English on the other. The book is, doubtless, in the
memory of the schoolboy days of some of the older scholars
of the country. In the preface. Alexander remarks naively,
Li By some it may possibly be said, that, in several instances, I
have wholly mistaken the sense of Virgil. If I have it is no
surprise. For, when there is such a variety of meanings to
many Latin words, it is extremely difficult to ascertain, in
every instance, the sense affixed to each word by the author.
In reading English books, we often find it difficult to under-
stand the true meaning of the writer. And surely it can be
no wonder, if a translator of a Latin book should mistake the
original sense of many words." Alexander was born in North-
field, Mass., and was a graduate of Yale in 1777. He was set-
tled at Mendon, as a clergyman, made " an ineffectual attempt
to establish a college at Fairfield, in New York," took charge of
an academy at Onondaga Hollow, where he died in 1828. He
published a Latin and English Grammar, and some other
writings. — Allen's Biog. Diet,

JOHN PARKE.

307

Nor can we rank him with the blest,

To whom large stores of wealth are giv*n ;

But him, who of enough possest,

Knows how t' enjoy the gifts of Heav'n.

Who poverty serenely bears,

With all the plagues the Gods can send ;
Who death to infamy prefers,

To save his country or his friend.
Dover, 1781.

To one of the odes, the fourteenth of the third
book, lie has given quite an American turn. It
is that one in which Horace celebrates the return
of Augustus from his Spanish expedition, where
he calls upon Li via, the wife of the hero, to greet
his arrival, and claims the joyful time as a true
holiday for himself, to banish black cares — while
he summons his valet to bring ointment, and gar-
lands, and a cask, with its old memories of the
Marsian conflict, if indeed such a cask could have
escaped that nefarious stroller, Spartacus, and to
call the witty Neasra — while, doubtful if she will
come to such an old gentleman as himself, ho
thinks how age compensates for neglect by its in-
difference, andheavesagentle sigh as he recalls the
different treatment he would have exacted in his
days of young blood, in " the consulship of Plan-
cus." We have some compunctions at intro-
ducing Parkes's platitudes in connexion with this
delicately touched effusion ; but something is due
to antiquarian curiosity, and the reader may be
amused at the substitution of Martha Washington
for the spouse of Augustus, the return of her
husband after the surrender of Cornwallis in lieu
of the CauUibrian conquest, and feel the force of
the comparison between the marauding Spartacus
and the depredating itinerant British officers,
who drank up so much of the best old wine
stored in the country. The remonstrance to the
porter is a vigorous, but perhaps undignified
translation of the Roman poet's

Si per in visum mora janitorem
Fiet, abito.

ON TnB UETUKN OF AUGUSTUS FEOM SPAIN.

Paraphrased on General Washington's Retarn from Virginia,

Addressed to Major-General Hf.nry Knox, late Commander
of ArtUiery, and Secretary-at- War, New York.

Rejoice, Columbia, for thy son,

As great Alcides did of yore,
With laurels crown'd, and fame in battles won,
Returns victorious from Virginia's shore :
Cornwallis vanquish'd and our country sav'd,
The grateful tribute of our joy demands,

On ev'ry heart his name's engrav'd,

Long as fch' united empire stands.

Chaste Martha shall embrace her spouse,

So long detaiu'd by war's alarms;
And to the righteous Heaven prefer her vows,
For giving back her hero to her arms.
Her widow'J daughter, beautiful in tears,
Shall grace the scene, and swell the thankful train,

While aged matrons bent with years,

Shall crowd the supplicated fane.

Ye maids in blooming beauty's pride,

Ye lovely youths, a hopeftd race!
Say not, alas ! your dearest friends have dy'd,
Nor let a frown of sadness cloud your face:
This day let mirth alone your souls employ,
Nor, careless, drop one inauspicious word,

But join the great eclat of joy,
And hail Columbia's valiant lord.

Well pleas'd I give each anxious care,

To plotting knaves and coward fools,
No civil strife, or foreign wars I fear,
While Washington our conq'ring army rules.
Boy, bring us oil, and let our heads be crown'd
With fragrant wreaths, go tap the farthest pipe,

If such a one is to be found,

That 'scap'd the plund'ring Briton's gripe.

Let Mira come the feast to grace,

With hair perfum'd in jetty Curl!
But should her porter teaze you with delays,
Bid him be d — d, and leave the saucy churl.
Now creeping age, with venerable hoar,
And snowy locks o'ershade my wrinkled brows,

With love my bosom beats no more,

No more my breast with anger glows.

Such flights I was not wont to bear,
Wiien young, I follow'd Mars' s trade;
When in the field I bore the warlike spear,
The sword, the epaulet and spruce cockade.
Philadelphia, 1782.

The seventh ode of the first book, " To Muna-
tius Plancus," is familiar, with its splendid eulogy
of the echoing waters of Albunea and the groves
of Tiber, with that kindling story of old Teucer.
This is Mr. Parke's substitute for it : — ■

TO MUNATIUS PLANCUS.

A Fragment Imitated*.

Addressed to Biohabv Howell, Esq., of New Jersey, late
Major in the Army.

Let other bards, in sonorous, lofty song,
Rehearse the glories of European climes ;

The charms of Britain rapturously prolong,
Or famed Icrnc in heroic rhymes: — -

Tell of New York, on ev'ry side begirt,

With Hudson's bleak, tempestuous, briny wave:

Of Ab'ram's Plains their tuneful powers exert,
The fall of heroes and of vet'rans brave : —

Of Kent, far distant, with a. farmer blest,

Whose Muse, oppression's out-stretch'd canvas
furl'd ;

Of Pennsylvania, happy in a West,
The great Apelles of this infant world.

Some praise Madeira for its gen'rous wine,

And Schuylkill's pleasant shades and silver
stream ;

Or with pedantic pride, in strains divine,

Dwell on the Muses' Seat — their fav'rite theme.

Then witli a feign'd, patriotic zeal,

Affect the soldier, and Virginia praise, —

Fam'd for her steeds ; while some the public weal
Of Penn in adulating numbers raise.

Nor Boston's police, or the high-ting' d bowers
Of fertile Hampstead, please so much, as where,

The silver Christiana gently pours,
A wat'ry tribute to the Delaware.

Where Sieanwick's lofty trees, their summits raise,
And fragrant orchards court the solar beam;

Pleas'd with the sight the waterman delays,
To view the forest, dancing on the stream.

Surrounded by a verdant grove-fring'd mead,

Which from the northern blasts its beauty
shrouds,

N — C — e seems to rear its ancient head,
And point its lustre to the passing clouds.

308

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

There may I live, inemulous of fame,
Nor wish the laurel, or the post's bays:

I ask not riches, or a mighty name,

But there, in sweet content, to end my days.

The volume which contains these translations
from Horace has also a copious stock of Miscel-
lanies— the compositions of Parke and his friends.
Several of them are by a young British officer,
John Wilcocks, who appears from an elegy, after
Tibullus, dedicated to his memory, to have be-
longed to " the eighteenth, or Royal regiment of
Ireland," and to have died at the early age of
twenty-two. Parke tells us that " the genius of
this young soldier seemed to be entirely adapted
to pastoral elegy and satire, of the last of which
he was a master." The verses which bear his
signature are creditable to his powers, though
they are but trifles ; for example —

TrrE TWO PEACOCKS.

How oft, dear Jack, we others blame

For faults, when guilty of the same !

But so it is, my friend, with man,

See his own faults he never can ;

But quickly with discerning eyes,

His neighbour's imperfection spies.

The beau oft blames his tawdry brother.

And coquettes laugh at one another :

Delia Chloe can't abide,

Yet blames her own in Delia's pride.

But to illustrate and make clear

What I advance, this Fable hear.

Two peacocks as they're wont to be.

Elate with pride and vanity,

Were strutting in a farmer's yard,

Viewing with envious regard

Each other's dress, replete with spleen,

As fops at balls are often seen.

At length his plumage to the sun

Wide-spreading, one of them begun;

" God bless me, friend, you're very fine !

Your feathers almost equal mine ;

But then, your legs! I vow and swear,

Your legs are not the thing, my dear:

Your voice, too, poh ! it is so squalling!

Pray, friend, correct that hideous bawling."

To which the other thus replies.

" Remove the mote from out your eyes,

View your own legs, then say if thine,

Proud thing, can be compar'd to mine?

Your voice ! but see the farmer there,

Let hint be judge in this affair."

The farmer, laughing at their pride.

Proceeds, the matter to decide.

" No difference in your legs, I see,

Your voices sound alike to me."

Thus spoke the swain, — the peacocks cry
" A silly judge !" and off they fly.

PAKODT ON MR. POPE'S ODE TO SOLITUDE.

Happy the boy, whose wish and care

A little bread and butter serves;

Content at meals to drink small bear,

And eat preserves.
Whose tops, whose marbles give him pleasure.

Whose balls afford him great delight;
Whose pennies shine, a mighty treasure

To charm his sight,

Blest who can ev'ry morning find

Some idle lads with whom to play ;
When in the fields he hath a mind

From school to stray.

Nor ferula fears, nor birch most dire.

But play all day, and sleep all night ;
Some other boy for cash will hire,.

His task to write.

Thus let me live, thus life enjoy,
Until to manhood I arrive ;
And thus, like me, sure ev'ry boy

To live will strive.

Mr. John Prior, of Delaware, is another
writer of verses, who figures in this collection,
in an ambitious patriotic way, as the writer of a
" New Year Ode, in 1779, for the Return of
Peace," and in several minor effusions, "To
Chloe stung by a Wasp," and in some lines " Writ-
ten in a Young Lady's Pocket-book." The vo-
lume "winds up" with Virginia; a Pastoral
Drama, on the Birth-day of an Illustrious Per-
sonage, and the Return of Peace, Feb. 11, 1784,
with the motto —

Quo nihil majus, meliusve terris
Fata donavere, bonique divi,
Nee dabunt, quamvis redeant in aurum
Tempora priseum,

which appears to be from the patriotic if not
poetical pen of Colonel Parke.

JOHN TETJMBULL,

The author oflPFingal, the humorous epic sketch
of the Revolution, was born in the present town-
ship of Watertown, Connecticut, April 24, 1750,
of a family each branch of which has contri-
buted its share of honor to the state. The
American head of the house came from England
to Ipswich in Massachusetts, in 1645. His son
removed to Connecticut. Of the three grand-
sons, his children, John Trumbull the poet was
the representative of the first in the third genera-
tion; the second gave the first governor to the
state, Jonathan Trumbull,* in the second genera-
tion, and another Jonathan Trumbull, governor,
with his brother the distinguished painter, in the
third ; while the grandson of the third Benjamin
wrote the history of the state.t The father of
our author was the minister of the Congregational
Church of his district ; his mother is spoken of
as possessed of superior education. A delicate
child and fond of books, of which the supply in
general literature was very limited at home, being
confined to the Spectator and Watts's Hymns, he

* Jonathan Trumbull passed half a century in public life, for
the last fifteen years of which he was Governor of Connecti-
cut, declining the annual election in 17S3. after the close of the
war, of which he had been a zealous supporter. Washington
wrote of him "as the first of patriots: in his social duties yield-
ing to none." He died in 1785. aged 74. W. Chastelln'x, the
traveller, who saw him when he was seventy, describes him as
possessing " all the simplicity in his dress, all the importance
and even all the pedantry, becoming the great magistrate of a
small republic. He brought to my mind the burgomasters of
Holland, the Heinsiuses and the Earneveldts."

T Benjamin Trumbull was a graduate of Tale College, and
was assisted in his education by Dr. Wheelock. the energetic
founder of Dartmouth College, who preached the sermon at his
ordination, commending him to the people as not " a sensual,
sleepy, lazy, dumb dog. that cannot Dark." From that time
till his death, he passed nearly sixty years in the ministry at
North Haven, Connecticut. His publications were, besides
several occasional sermons and discourses od the divine origin
of the Scriptures, A Complete History of Connecticut, Civil
and Ecclesiastical, from the emigration of its first planted
from England, in the year 1680, to the year 1764; and to the
close of the Indian wars. 2 vols. 8vo. 1797, 1S18, and a History
of the United States to 1705. Vol. i. in 1S19.

JOHN TRUMBULL.

309

Birth-place of Trumbull.

was early trained by his father for Yale College, of
■which institution he was admitted a member on
examination at the precocious age of seven,*
though his actual residence at college was wisely
adjourned till six years afterwards. During this
period he became acquainted with some of the
best English classics, and subsequently took up
their defence, as a branch of study, in opposition
to the exclusive preference of the college for the
ancient languages, mathematics, and theology.
He was a fellow-student with Timothy Dwight,
with whom he formed an intimate and lasting
friendship. They wrote together papers in the
style of the Spectator, then the standard model
for this class of compositions, which they pub-
lished in the journals of Boston and New Haven.
The two friends in 1771 became tutors together
in the college, and the next year Trumbull pub-
lished his Progress of Dulness, a year after en-
larging it by a second and third part. The lite-
rary quartette was completed by the junction of
Humphreys and Barlow.

Under cover of the tutorship, Trumbull studying
law was admitted to the bar in Connecticut, in
1773, and as he had entered college first and pre-
pared himself afterw irds, so upon his admission as
an attorney, he proceeded to Boston and became
a student in the office of John Adams, the sub-
sequent President of the United States. In this
patriotic society he learnt the lesson of American
Independence in its elements, and learnt it well ;
recording his impressions of the rising spirit of
freedom and resistance in An Elegy on th-e Times,
a poem of sixty-eight stanzas, which celebrates
the Port Bill and non-consumption of foreign
luxuries, the strength of the country, and its
future glories contrasted with the final downfall
of England.

At the end of 1774, Trumbull returned to New
Haven, and wrote what now stands as the first,
second, and third cantos of M'Fingal. The period
of the war was chiefly passed by him in his
native place. In 17S1 he took up his residence at
Stratford, and at the termination of the war in
1782 completed M'Fingal, revising his early
sketches, and adding the concluding canto. Its

* "With Trumbull, Dr. Emmons was particularly intimate,
aud held him in his lap when, at the aire of seven or eight, the
author of M'Fingal passed a satisfactory examination on the
studies required for admission to College."— Prof. Park's
Notices of Dr. Emuious.

popularity was very great. There were more
than thirty different pirated impressions, in
pamphlet and other forms, which were circulated
by " the newsmongers, hawkers, pedlars, and
petty chapmen" of the day.

Having served his country during the Revolu-
tion, he employed lus pen again in the second
and not inferior work of preserving it for union
and the constitution. He was one of the writers
of the Anarchiad, a newspaper series of papers at
Hartford, a production levelled at the irregulari-
ties of the day, and of which an account will be
found in the life of his associate in the work,
Lemuel Hopkins. He was afterwards called into
public life as a member of the State Legislature,
and in 1301 became Judge of the Superior Court
of the State, continuing to reside at Hartford till
1S25, when he removed to Detroit, Michigan, the
residence of his daughter, Mrs. Woodbridge, where
he died, May 12, 1831, of a gradual decline, at
the age of eighty-one, a mature period for a life
which had been visited by ill health at intervals
from childhood.

The collection of his Poems* appeared at Hart-
ford in 1820, with a prefatory memoir closing
with a broken sentence, interrupted by asterisks
— which, with the absence of critical commenda-
tion, suggests that the author himself was holding
the pen. This edition was published by sub-
scription, and it is not to the credit of the public
of that year that only a small subscription was
obtained. The publisher, Mr. S. G. Goodrich, lost
money by the undertaking, but a thousand dollars
and a hundred copies of the work had been
secured to the author.

Of the miscellaneous productions of Trumbull,
The Progress of Dullness, a satirical poem, com-
posed in bis twenty-second year, is the most im-
portant. It is in the octosyllabic measure, in three
parts.

The first recounts the adventures of Tom
Brainless. That hero is sent to college, where
his natural dulness is rather strengthened than
abated by his smattering of unprofitable studies,
and the cheap protection of his diploma. Find-
ing it necessary to do something for himself in
the world, he learns "the art of preaching," and
of stealing judiciously out of Pool and Henry,
which accomplishments acquired, he ascends the
pulpit.

Now in the desk, with solemn air,
Our hero makes his audience stare ;
Asserts with all dogmatic boldness,
Where impudence is yoked with dulness ;
Reads o'er his notes with halting pace
Mask'd in the stiffness of his face ;
With gestures such as might become
Those 6tatues once that spoke at Rome,
Or Livy's ox, that to the state
Declared the oracles of fate.
In awkward tones, nor said, nor sung,
Slow rumbling o'er the falt'ring tongue,
Two hours his drawling speech holds on,
And names it preaching, when he's done.

* The Poetical Works of John Trumbull. LL.D., containing
M'Fingal, a Modern Epic Poem, revised and corrected, with
copious explanatory notes; the Progress of Dulness; and a
collection of Poems on various subjects, written before and
during the Revolutionary war. 2 vols. Hartford : Printed for
S. G. Goodrich. 1S20.

510

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Dick Hairbrain is introduced to us in the
second part, a town fop, the son of a wealthy
farmer, ridiculous in dress, empty of knowledge,
but profound in swearing and cheap infidelity
picked up second-hand from Hume and Voltaire.
His college course was as dull in point of learn-
ing, though a little more animated in profligacy,
than that of his predecessor.

What though in algebra, his station
Was negative in each equation ;
Though in astronomy survey'd,
His constant course was retrograde ;
O'er Newton's system though he sleeps,
And finds his wits in dark eclipse!
His talents proved of highest price
At all the arts of card and dice ;
His genius turn'd with greatest skill,
To whist, loo, cribbnge, and quadrille,
And taught, to every rival's shame,
Each nice distinction of the game.

He becomes a travelled fool, of course, and
runs through his coxcombry and dissipation, till
the jail and the palsy relieve him, and the poor
creature sinks out of 6ight, to give place to
another shifting of the poet's drop-scene, when
the counterpart of this delectable gentleman, Miss
Harriet Simper, makes her appearance on the
stage. She illustrates the slender stock of female
education, formerly in vogue, and the life of the
coquette in those good old times of our fore-
fathers, when, among the many who were valiant
and industrious, and led simple honest lives, there
was room as usual for some who were indolent
and conceited. The fops and beaux surrounding
this lady present a curious scene of the day
when the Sunday meeting was the battle-held for
the artillery of love and fashion : —

As though they meant to take by blowi
Th' opposing galleries of beaux,
To church the female squadron move,
All arm'd with weapons used in love.
Like colour'd ensigns gay and fair,
High caps rise floating in the air;
Bright silk its varied radiance flings,
And streamers wave in kissing-strings ;
Each bears th' artill'ry of her charms,
Like training bands at viewing arms.
So once in fear of Indian beating,
Our grandsires bore their guns to meeting,
Each man equipp'd on Sunday morn,
AVith Psalm-book, shot and powder-horn ;
And look'd in form, as all must grant,
Like th' ancient, true church militant;
Or fierce, like modern deep divines,
"Who fight with quills, like porcupines; —

when the fortunes of gallantry and domestic
happiness were read out of tea-cups ; when the
ladies grew ecstatic over the hazards of virtuous
Pamela, and the gentleman swore by Lovelace, or
sported philosophy out of Tristram Shandy — for
whose humors, by the way, our author should
have had a better fellow-feeling. He speaks, in a
note, of the transitory reputation of that not yet
quite or likely soon-to-be-forgotten publication.
Miss Harriet Simper, after jilting her admirers by
scores, falls a victim to Hairbrain, who proves as
great a flirt as herself, and rejects her advances.
Thrown off by the beau, she finally accepts our
dull old friend of the first canto, Brainless, for
whom, in consideration of the marriage,

The parish vote him five pounds clear
T increase his salary every year.
Then swift the tag-rag gentry come
To welcome Madame Brainless home ;
Wish their good Parson joy ; with pride
In order round salute the bride :
At home, at visits and at meetings,
To Madam all allow precedence ;
Greet her at church with rev'rence due,
And next the pulpit fix her pew.

The manners of this poem are well painted,
the satire is just, and the reflections natural and
pointed. It may still be read with pleasure.
The plea for the humanities, as opposed to the dry
abstractions and pedantries of college education,
is not yet exhausted in its application; and the
demand for higher studies and a more profound
respect for woman, have been enough agitated of
late to commend the early effort of Trumbull in
this enlightened cause. In his case, as in many
others of the kind, the perceptions of the wit
outran the slower judgments of duller men.

^__^y^r^i^y^tt^^^Cc^^y'

The poem of MTingal is Trumbull's lasting
work for fame. The author himself has described
its purpose and method in a letter written in
1785 to the Marquis de Chastellux, who had
complimented him, from the French capital, upon
fulfilling the conditions of burlesque poetry ac-
cording to the approved laws from the days of
Homer. In reply, Trumbull says he would have
been happy to have seen the rules alluded to
before he composed the poem ; but he had not
written it without design or attempt at construc-
tion. It had been undertaken " with a political
view, at the instigation' of some leading members
of the first Congress, who urged him to compose
a satirical poem on the events of the campaign in
the year 1775," and he had aimed at expressing,
" in a poetical manner, a general account of the
American contest, with a particular description
of the character and manners of the times, inter-
spersed with anecdotes, which no history could

JOHN TRUMBULL),

311

probably record or display: and with as much
impartiality as possible, satirize the follies and
extravagances of my countrymen as well as of
their enemies. I determined to describe every
subject in the manner it struck my own imagina-
tion, and without confining myself to a perpetual
effort at wit, drollery, and humour, indulge every
variety of manner, as my subject varied, and
insert all the ridicule, satire, sense, sprightliness,
and elevation, of which I was master." In car-
rying out this design, M'Fingal, a burly type of
the monarchy-loving squires of New England, is
chosen as the representative of the general Tory
interests and personages of the country. Hono-
rius is the Whig champion of freedom and oppo-
sition, and the poem is mostly an harangue
between the two. It opens with, a meeting
assembled for political discussion in the church
of M'Fingal's native town, whither he has just
arrived from Boston. Honorius commences with
a general attack on the decay of Britain, and her
injurious course towards the colonies, with free
allusion to court lawyers, clergymen, and interested
merchants, when he is suddenly interrupted by
M'Fingal, with a fierce diatribe of reproach and
expostulation, the humor of which consists in
clinching every nail driven in by his opponent ;
for the squire was one of those arguers more dan-
gerous to his friends than his foes.

As some muskets so contrive it,
As oft to miss the mark they drive at,
And though well aim'd at duek or plover,
Bear wide, and kick their owners over:
So fared our Squire, whose reas'ning toil
Would often on himself recoil,
And so much injured more his side,
The stronger arguments he applied;
As old war-elephants, disuury'd,
Trod down the troops they came to aid,
And hurt their own side more in battle,
Than less and ordinary cattle.

The clergy, with their divine right for the
powers that be, the royal editors and council-
men are brought before us, and their pretensions
knocked about as shuttlecocks from one arguer
to the other.

Canto first is adjourned for dinner, which re-
freshment being secured, the parties meet to
battle again witli renewed vigor in the afternoon.
M'Fingal taunts the company with the blessings
of Puritan exile, and the various measures of
government; and after this ironical appeal to their
gratitude, throws in an alarm for their fears, in
a glance at the movements of General Gage.
Honorius sneers at the Boston general, and
M'Fingal gets the floor again, pouring forth an
eloquent flood of declamation upon British vic-
tories, and confiscations in prospect, the rise of
Tories and fall of Wings. Honorius, in turn,
sounds a trumpet-tongued harangue for freedom.
The Tories lose tiieir temper, and the contest for
order is louder and louder, till the attention of
the combatants is diverted by a movement with-
out. This is the famous gathering for the conse-
cration of the liberty pole, which is the central
point of the third canto. M'Fingal endeavors to !
disperse the mob by tongue and constable, but at j
the first note of the riot act and proclamation, |
'; Our Sovereign Lord the King" arguments are i

seconded by stones and clubs; a general fight
ensues, M'Fingal's sword enacts prodigies, but
a revolutionary spade, which had planted the
liberty pole, wielded by a stout Whig, disarms
him. The constable, who had skulked at the
beginning of the fray, is twisted midway in air
by the breech, a philosophical position compared
to Socrates in his basket, a height from which he
soon sees the error of his ways ; while a court,
hastily assembled on the spot, assigns the graver
fate of tarring and feathering to M'Fingal — a
comic invention of the Revolution, a huge prac-
tical joke partaki ng something of the jocular Puri-
tan humors of old Cromwell; inconvenient, doubt-
less, but better every way for all parties than the
prison ships and cruelties of the British.* The
decree having been executed in an exemplary
manner —

And now the mob, dispersed and gone,
Left Squire and Constable alone.
The Constable with rueful face
Lean'd sad and solemn o'er a brace;
And fast beside him, cheek by jowl,
Stuck 'Squire M'Fingal 'gainst the pole,
Glued by the tar t' his rear applied,
Like barnacle on vessel's side.

M'Fingal, at the opening of the fourth canto,
retires under cover of night to the cellar of his
mansion, where there is a secret Tory muster,
burlesqued from Satan and his pandemonium,
the chiefs sitting about on ale kegs and cider
barrels, the Squire discoursing from the rostrum
of the potato bin. His Scotch descent enables
him to close the poem with a vision of second
sight, an excellent piece of machinery. This por-
tion being written after the war, has the benefit
of history for its predictions. It is an eloquent
recapitulation of the varied fortunes of the strug-
gle. The humor is exquisite, and refined by the
truthful force and occasionally elevated treatment
of the subject. When the last battle of the Revo-
lution has been fought, and the narrowing ge-
nius of England been contrasted in the uninvited
inspiration of the Squire with the expansive force
of America, the mob discovers the retreat; the
assembly is dispersed, M'Fingal escapes out of a
window en route to Boston, and the poem is
closed.

M'Fingal is modelled upon Hudibras in a cer-
tain general treatment, the construction of its
verse, and many of its turns of humor ;f but it is

* Brackenridge, in his Modem Chivalry, assigns the origin
of this custom to "the town of Boston, just before the com-
mencement of the American Revolution ;" though he admits
in a note, "this mode of punishment is said to be alluded to in
the laws of Oleron." He pronounces it '• to be what may be
called a revolutionary punishment, beyond what in a settled
state of government may be inflicted by the opprobrium of
opinion, and yet short of the coercion or the laws. It took rise
in thesea-coast towns in America, and I would suppose it to
be owing to some accidental conjunction of the seamen and
the citizens, devising a mode of punishment for a person
obnoxious. The sailors naturally thought of tar, and the
women, who used to be assisting on the-e occasions, thought
of bolsters and pillow-cases." The "phimeopicean robe" is,
however, as old as the crusaders: Richard Cceur do Lion hav-
ing, among other laws for the regulation of his followers on
shipboard, ordered that "A man convicted of theft or 'pickerie1
was to have his head shaved, and hot pitch poured upon his
bare pate, and over the pitch the feathers of some pillow or
cushion were to be shaken, as a mark whereby he might be
known as a thief."— Pictorial History of England, i. 487.
t As to the comparative execution of the two productions,

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CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATI' RE

so thoroughly American in its ideas and subject
matter, that it soon ceases to be an imitation, and
we look upon it solely as it was — an original pro-
duct of the times. The Hudibrastic body is tho-
roughly interpenetrated by its American spirit.
The illustrations, where there was the greatest
temptation to plagiarism, are drawn from the wri-
ter's own biblical and classical reading, and the
colloquial familiarities of the times. For the
manners of the poem there is no record of the
period which supplies so vivid a presentation of
the old Revolutionary Whig habits of thinking
and acting. We are among the actors of the day,
the town committees, the yeomanry, the politi-
cians, and soldiers, participating the rough hu-
mor of the times; for nothing is more character-
istic of the struggle than a certain vein of plea-
santry and hearty animal spirits which entered
into it. Hardships were endured with fortitude, for
which there was occasion enough, but the contest
was carried on with wit as with other weapons.
The fathers of the Revolution were as ready to take
a joke as a bullet, though there might be as much
lead in one as the other. There were pleasant
fellows on both sides, but if the palm of victory
were to be assigned to the wits, the Freneaus,
Trumbulls, Hopkinsuns, and Ilopkinses, would
carry the day against the Myles Coopers, Mather
Biles, Rivingtons, Scovills, Burgoynes, and Major
Andres.

AN EPITHALAMIITM.

Ye nine great daughters of Jupiter,

Born of one mother at a litter,

Virgins, who ne'er submit to wifedom,

But sing and fiddle all your lifetime,

In verse and rhyme great wholesale dealers,

Of which we bards are but retailers,

Assist. But chiefly thou, my Muse,

Who never didst thine aid refuse,

Whether I sung in high bombastick,

Or sunk to simple Hudibrastic,

Or in dire dumps proclaim'd my moan,

Taught rocks to weep, aud hills to groan,

there are certainly lines in Trumbull which may be readily
mistaken lor Butler. The couplet from M'Fiugal,

But optics sharp it needs. I ween,
To see what is not to be seen,

would be assigned by 'nine cultivated persons out of ten, decid-
ing from the ear and sense, to be from Hudibl'as. A story is
told of a Virginia legislator quoting the pithy sentence of
M'Fiugal—

A thief ne'er felt the halter draw

With good opinion of the law,

from Hudibras. and of its so standing entered in his speech on
the official debates of the State convention. (Art. M'Fiugal,
Southern Literary Messenger. April, 1841.)

President Dwight, whose gravity and judgment, at the late
period of his life when he wrote this opinion, weie not likely to
be unfairly sacrificed to his regard for an old friend, says of
Trumbull's poem: "It may be observed, without any partial-
ity, that M'Fingal is not inferior in wit and humour tit Hu-
dibras; aud in every other respect is superior. It has a regu-
lar plan, in which all the parts are well proportioned and con-
nected. The subject is fairly proposed, and the story con-
ducted correctly through a series of advancements and retard- '
ations to a catastrophe, wbicb is natural and complete. The
versification is tar better, the poetry is in several instances in a
good degree elegant, and in some even sublime. It is also free
from those endless digressions, which, notwithstanding the
wit discovered in them, are so tedious in Hudibras; the pro-
tuberances of which are a much larger mass than the body on
which they grow.*1 The opinion is worth quoting in connexion
with the reputation of a poem, the history of which will at
least not decrease in interest hereafter. Touching the supe-
riority of the versification to Hudibras. probably Dwiirht's pu-
ritan feelings and distrust of the subject matter did not permit
him to enjoy all the harmonies of Butler's exquisite rhythm.

Or chang'd the style to love and dearee,
Till even Echo blush'd to hear ye,
These mournful themes no longer usurp,
But turn to sweeter sounds thy jewsharp.

Now from his hammock in the skies
Phoebus junip'd up, and rubb'd his eyes,
Clapp'd on his daylight round his ears,
Saddl'd his horse, and fix'd his spurs.
Night turn'd her backside ; so in turn he
Mounted, and set forth on his journey.
Our wedding folks were yet a-bed,
Nor dreatn'd what's doing overhead.

At leisure now for episodes,
We'll introduce our set of gods.
Sing then, my Muse, in lofty crambo,
How Hymen came, with lighted flambeau.
Juno, it seems, by sad mishaps,
O'er night with Jove was pulling caps;
For by the way she's wont to govern
(So Homer says) the henpeek'd sov'ieign.
But now stole off and left him fretting,
And rode post-haste to come to wedding.
Lucina was not there that morning ;
But ready stood at nine months' warning.
The Nymphs, of ev'ry form and size,
Came there before the bride could rise.
The Mountain JS'ymphs skipp'd down like fleas,
Dryads crept out from hollow trees ;
The Water Nymphs, from swamps and flats,
Came dripping on, like half-diown'd rats;
The birds around on sprays and thistles
Began to light, and tune their whistles;
The coek, when daylight had begun,
Being chorister, struck up the tune,
And sung an hymn in strains sonorous,
While ev'ry quailpipe join'd the chorus.

But we must quit this singing sport, else
Mischance may seize our sleeping mortals,
Who now 'gan bustle round the fabriek,
Finding they'd slept till after daybreak.
Our bridegroom, ere he did arise,
Rubb'd sleep's soft dews from both his eyes,
Look'd out to see what kind of weather,
And jump'd from bed as light as feather,
Joyful as Dick, after obtaining
His Master's leave to go to training.
Here, did not rhyming greatly harass one.
Were a fine place to make comparison;
Call up the ghosts of heroes pristine,
Egyptian, Trojan, Greek, Philistine',
Those rogues renown'd in ancient days,
So sweetly sung in ancient lays,
Set them in order by our gallant,
To prove him handsome, wise, and valiant.
He now came forth and stood before
His lovely goddess' chamber door,
Addressed her with three gentle hollo's,
Then read, or said, or sung as follows.

Arise my love, and come away,
To cheer the world, and gild the day.
Which fades by wanting fresh supplies
From the bright moonshine of thine eyes.

How beautiful art thou, my love,
Surpassing all the dames above;
Venus with thee might strive again,
Venus with thee would strive in vain.

in.
Though ev'ry muse, and ev'ry grace,
Conspire to deck bright Venus' lace.

JOHN TRUMBULL.

O 1 o

Oil)

Thou'rt handsomer than all this trash,
By full three hundred pounds in cash.

IV

Rise then, my love, and come away,
To cheer the world, and gild the day,
Which fades by wanting fresh supplies
From the bright moonshine of thine eyes.

And now came forth our lovely bride,
Array'd in all her charms and pride.
Note here, lest we should be misguided,
Lovers and bar Is are so quiek-siglited,
In ev'ry charm they spy a Cupid,
Though other people are more stupid ;
So our fair bride, our lover swore,
Was deck'd with Cupids o'er and o'er;
(Thus Virgil's goddess Fame appears
From head to feet o'erhung with ears.)

Here, if our Muse we did not cheek first,
We might go ou and sing of breakfast ;
Of nymphs in gardens picking tulips,
Of maids preparing cordial juleps,
With otlier matters of this sort, whence
We come to tilings of more importance.

The sun, who never stops to bait,
Now riding at his usual rate,
Had hardly passed his midway course,
And spurr'd along his downward horse,
Our bridegroom, and his lovely virgin
Set forth to church with little urging.
A solemn show before, behind 'em
A lengtlie j'd cavalcade attend 'em,
Of nymphs and swains a mingled crew,
Of ev'ry shape and ev'ry line.
In midst of these, with solemn wag,
Our priest bestrode his ambling nag;
His dress and air right well accouter'd,
His hat new bi'ush'd, his wig new powder'd,
His formal band, of 's trade the sign,
Depending decent from his chin,
His threadbare coat, late turn'd by Snip,
With scripture book, and cane for whip,
Unnotic'd pass'd among the throng,
And look'd demure, and jogg'd along,
Yet laymen ne'er his power could equal,
As we s'lall show you in tile sequel.
For when this priest o'er man and maid
A set of Scripture words had said,
You'd find them closely link'd together
For life, in strange enchanted tether,
(Like spirits in magician's circle,)
Till friendly death did him or her kill ;
Tied up in wondrous Gordian knot
They neither can untie nor cut,
Inclos'd in cage where all may see 'em,
But all the world can never free 'em.
For once by priest in bands of wedlock
When tied and hamper'd by the fetlock,
They fight, or strive, or fly in vain,
And" still drag alter them their chain.

Trifles skipt o'er, our next proceeding
Shall give description of the wedding;
Where though we Pagan mix with Christian,
And gods a. id goddesses with priest join,
Truth need not stand to make objection,
We poets have the right of fiction.
And first great Hymen in the porch,
Like link-boy stood, with flaming torch,
Around, in all the vacant places,
Stood gods, and goddesses, and graces;
Yenus, and Cupid, god of love,
Witli all the rabble from above.
In midst our groom and bride appear,

With wedding guests in wing and rear.

Our priest now show'd his slight of hand,

Roll'd up his eyes, and strok'd his band,

Then join'd their hands m terms concise,

And struck the bargain in a trice,

First for the bridegroom thus began he:

Saying, " you Stephen take her Hannah,"

And then, to make both parties even,

For her, " you Hannah take him Stephen ;"

Then told them to avoid temptation,

To Jo the duties of their station,

In state of sickness nurse and nourish,

In health cleave fast, and love, and cherish.

To all the parson said or meant,

Our bride and bridegroom gave consent,

He bow'd to what the priest did say,

She blush'd, and curt'sy'd, and cry'd " ay."

The bargain made, he gave his blessing.

And bade them sign and seal with kissing; .

The smack being given, neat and fresh,

He strait pronouue'd them both one flesh.

By mathematicks, 'tis well known,

It takes two halves to make up one,

And Adam, as our priests believe,

Was but an half without Miss Eve;

So every mortal man in life,

Is but an half without his wife ;

And hence, by natural enaction,

Man seeks so much his other fraction,

Which found, no tinker 'tis coufest,

Can splice or sodder, but a priest.

The rites now o'er, the priest drew near.
And kiss'd the bride's sinister ear ;
Told them he hop'd they'd make good neighbours,
And begg'd a blessing on their labours.
Him follow'd every mincing couple,
Licking their lips to make them supple,
Each got a kiss from one or t'other,
And wish'd they long might live together.

The wedding o'er, with joy and revelry,
Back to their brides return'd the cavalry:
And, as when armies take a town,
Which costs theni long to batter down,
That Fame may raise her voice the louder,
They fire whole magazines of powder,
And heaps of fuel lay upon fires,
To celebrate their joy with bonfires,
So now the bride had chang'd her station,
Surrender'd prisoner at discretion,
Submitting to our hero's fancies,
Herself with all appurtenances.
The well pleas'd crowd (for greatest joya
Are always shown with greatest noise)
Triumph'd by firing, shouting, ringing,
By dancing, drinking, wiue, and singing.

But yet our groom (time march'd so lazy)
Sat hitching, nestling, and uneasy,
Thought daylight never would be gone,
And called the sun a lagging drone.
The sun, just when 'twas time to sup,
Came to the sea where lie puts up.
Sent his last rays o'er earth to scatter,
And div'd down headlong into water.
Here is the place, if we would choose
To tire our reader, and our Muse,
To name and number every guest,
To tell what fare eompos'd the feast.
With otlier tilings that did betide.
As how they kiss'd and jok'd the bride,
How frolicksome the liquor made 'em,
And how the fiddler came to aid 'em.
And tun'd his lyre witli such a scraping,
It set the people all a capering.

314

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

When Orpheus fiddled, at his guidance

Thus trees leap'd forth, and joiu'd in set dance.

Grim night at length in sable waggon,
Drawn by a sooty, bat-wing' d dragon,
Rode till she came right overhead,
And on the earth her blanket spread.
The moon was out upon patrole,
Stars danc'd as usual round the pole;
All nature now with drowsy head
Had thrown by care, and gone to bed.
Sleep reign'd o'er all, but wolves and rovers,
Owls, bats, and ghosts, and thieves, and lovers.
No alderman's invited guest
To gormandize at turtle feast,
"VVlien first he sees the dish brought in,
And 'gins to dip and grease his chin,
E'er feels such raptures as our lover,
Now all his griefs and fears were over.
Th' events that afterwards befel
Our bashful Muse would blush to tell.

THE LIBEETY POLE. — m'fINGAL. CANTO III.

Now warm with ministerial ire,

Fierce sallied forth our loyal 'Squire,

And on his striding steps attends

His desperate clan of Tory friends.

When sudden met his wrathful eye

A pole ascending through the sky.

Which numerous throngs of whiggish race

Were raising in the market-place.

Not higher school-boys' kites aspire,

Or royal mast, or country spire ;

Like spears at Brobdignagian tilting,

Or Satan's walking-statf in Milton.

And on its top, the flag unfurl'd

Wav'd triumph o'er the gazing world,

Inscribed with inconsistent types

Of Liberty and thirteen stripes*

Beneath, the crowd without delay-,

The dedication-rites essay,

And gladly pay, in (indent fashion,

The ceremonies of libation ;

While briskly to each patriot lip

Walks eager round the inspiring flip :|

Delicious draught ? whose powers inherit

The quintessence of public spirit ;

Which whoso tastes, perceives his mind

To nobler politics refined ;

Or roused to martial controversy,

As from transforming cups of Circe ;

Or warm'd with Homer's nectnr'd liquor,

That fill'd the veins of gods with ichor.

At hand for new supplies in store,

The tavern opes its friendly door.

Whence to and fro the waiters run,

Like bucket-men at fires in tow-D.

Then witli three shouts that tore the sky,

'Tis consecrate to Liberty.

To guard it from th' attacks of Tories,

A grand Committee cull'd of four is ;

Who foremost on the patriot spot

Had brought the flip, and paid the shot.

By this, M'Finoal with his train
Advanced upon th' adjacent plain,
And full with loyalty possest,
Pour'd forth the zeal, that fired his breast.

?^p> The notes to this canto a-e from the author's edition.
Those marked London Ldition aie from the filth English edi-
tion of London. 1792.

* The American Flag. It would doubtless be wronir to
imagine that the stripes bear any allusion to the slave trade.

tFIip, a liquor composed of beer, rum, and sugar; the com-
mon treat at that time in the country towns of Kew Eng-
land.

" What mad-brain'd rebel gave commission,
To raise this May-pole of sedition ?
Like Babel, rear'd by bawling throngs,
With like confusion too of tongues,
To point at heaven and summon down
The thunders of the British crown?
Say, will this paltry Pole secure
Your forfeit heads from Gage's power?
Attack'd by heroes brave and crafty,
Is this to stand your ark of safety ;
Or driven by Scottish laird and laddie,
Think ye to rest beneath its shadow?
When bombs, like fiery serpents, fly,
And balls rush hissing through the sky,
Will this vile Pole, devote to freedom,
Save like the Jewish pole in Edom :
Or like the brazen snake of Moses,
Cure your erackt skulls and batter'd noses?

" Ye dupes to every factious rogue
And tavern-prating demagogue,
Whose tongue but rings, with sound more full,
On th' empty drumhead of his scull ;
Behold you not what noisy fools
Use you, worse simpletons, for tools?
For Liberty, in your own by-sense,
Is but for crimes a patent license,
To break of law th' Egyptian yoke,
And throw the world in common stock ;
Reduce all grievances and ills
To Magna Charta of your wills ;
Establish cheats and frauds and nonsense,
Framed to the model of your conscience;
Cry justice down, as out of fashion,
And fix its scale of depreciation ;*
Defy all creditors to trouble ye,
And keep new years of Jewish jubilee ;
Drive judges out,f like Aaron's calves,
By jurisdiction of white staves,
And make the bar and bench and steeple
Submit t' our Sovereign Lord, The People;
By plunder rise to power and glory,
And brand all property, as Tory ;
Expose all wares to lawful seizures
By mobbers or monopolizers;
Break heads and windows and the peace,
For your own interest and increase ;
Dispute and pray and fight and groan
For public good, and mean your own;
Prevent the law by fierce attacks
From quitting scores upon your backs ;
Lay your old dread, the gallows, low,
And seize the stocks, your ancient foe,
And turn them to convenient engines
To wreak your patriotic vergeai.ee:
While all, your rights who understand,
Confess them in their owner's hand;
And when by clamours and confusions,
Your freedom's grown a public nuisance,
Cry " Liberty," with powerful yearning,
As he does " Fire !" whose house is burning ;
Though he already has much more
Than he can find occasion for.
While every clown, that tills the plains,
Though bankrupt in estate and brains,
By this new light trausfonn'd to traitor,
Forsakes his plough to turn dictator.
Starts an haranguing chief of Whigs

* Alluding to the depreciation of the Continental paper mo-
ney. Congress finally ascertained the course of its declension
at different periods, by what was called A Scale of Deprecia-
tion.

t On the commencement of the war. the courts of justice
were everywhere shut up. In some instances, the judges were
forced to retire by the people, who assembled in multitudes,
armed with white staves.

JOHN TRUMBULL.

315

And drags you by the ears, like pigs.

All bluster, arm'd with factious licence,

New born at once to politicians.

Each leather-aprou'd dunce, grown wise,

Presents his forward face t' advise,

And tatter'd legislators meet,

From every workshop through the street.

His goose the tailor finds new use in,

To patch and turn the Constitution ;

The blacksmith comes with sledge and grate

To iron-bind the wheels of state ;

The quack forbears his patients' souse

To purge the Council and the House ;

The tinker quits his moulds and doxies,

To cast assembly-men and proxies.

From dunghills deep of blackest hue,

Your dirt-bred patriots spring to view,

To wealth and power and honors rise,

Like new-wing'd maggots changed to flies,

And fluttering round in high parade,

Strut in the robe, or gay cockade.

See Arnold quits, for ways more certain,

His bankrupt-perj'riesfor his fortune,

Brews rum no longer in his store,

Jockey and skipper*iow no more,

*******
And cleansed by patriotism from shame
Grows general of the foremost name.
For in this ferment of the stream
The dregs have work'd up to the brim.
And by the rule of topsy-turvies,
The scum stands foaming on the surface.
You've caused your pyramid t' ascend,
And set it on the little end.
Like Hudibras, your empire's made,
Whose crupper had o'ertopp'd his head.
You've push'd and turn'd the whole world up-
Side down, and got yourselves at top,
While all the great ones of your state
Are erush'd beneath the popular weight ;
Nor can you boast, this present hour,
The shadow of the form of power.
For what's yTour Congress* or its end?
A power, t' advise and recommend ;
To call forth troops, adjust your quotas —
And yet no soul is bound to notice ;
To pawn your faith to th' utmost limit,
But cannot bind you to redeem it ;
And when in want no more in them lies,
Than begging from your State- Assemblies ;
Can utter oracles of dread,
Like friar Bacon's brazen head,
But when a faction dares dispute 'em,
Has ne'er an arm to execute 'em:
As tho' you chose supreme dictators,
And put them under conservators.
You've but pursued the self-same way
With Shakespeare's Trine'lo-f- in the play;
"You shall be Viceroys here, 'tis true,
" But we'll be Viceroys over you."
What wild confusion hence must ensue?
Tho' common danger yet cements you :
So some wreek'd vessel, all in shatters,
Is held up by surrounding waters,
But stranded, when the pressure ceases,
Falls by its rottenness to pieces.

* The author here, in a true strain of patriotic censure,
pointed out the principal defects in the first federal constitution
of the United States: all which have been since removed in
the new Constitution, estahlished in the year 17S9. So that
the prophecy below, You'll ne'er have seme enouf/h to mend
ft, must he ranked among the other sage blunders of Ids second-
sighted hero. Land. Edit,

f This political plan of Trinoulo in the Tempest, may be
found in the old folio edition of Shakspenre. It lias since been
expunged by some of his wise commentators.

And fall it must : if wars were ended,

You'll ne'er have sense enough to mend it:

But creeping on, by low intrigues,

Like vermin of a thousand legs,*

'Twill rind as short a life assign'd,

As all things else of reptile kind.

Your Commonwealth's a common harlot,

The property of every varlet;

Which now in taste, and full employ,

All sorts admire, as all enjoy :

But soon a batter'd strumpet grown,

You'll curse and drum her out of towu.

Such is the government you chose ;

For this you bade the world be foes;

For this, so niark'd for dissolution,

You scorn the British Constitution,

That constitution form'd by sages,

The wonder of all modern ages ;

Which owns no failure in reality,

Except corruption and venality ;

And merely proves the adage just,

That best things spoil'd corrupt to worst:

So man supreme m earthly station,

And mighty lord of this creation,

When once his corse is dead as herring,

Becomes the most offensive carrion,

And sooner breeds the plague, 'tis found,

Than all beasts rotting on the ground.

Yet with republics to dismay us,

You've call'd up Anarchy from chaos,

With all the followers of her school,

Uproar and Rage and wild Misrule :

For whom this rout of Whigs distracted,

And ravings dire of every erack'd head ;

These new-cast legislative engines

Of County-meetings and Conventions :

Committees vile of correspondence,

And mobs, whose tricks have almost undone 's :

While reason fails to check your course,

And Loyalty's kick'd out of doors,

And folly, like inviting landlord,

Hoists on your poles her royal standard ;

While the king's friends, in doleful dumps,

Have worn their courage to the stumps,

And leaving George in sad disaster,

Most sinfully deny their master.

What furies raged when you, in sea,

In shape of Indians, drown'd the tea:-)-

When your gay sparks, fatigued to watch it,

Assumed the moggison and hatchet,

With wampum'd blankets hid their laces

And like their sweethearts, primed]: their faces :

While not a red-coat dared oppose,

And scarce a Tory show'd his nose ;

While Hutchinson, § for sure retreat,

* Millepedes.

t The cargo of tea sent to Boston, after being guarded for
twenty nights, by voluntary parties of the Whigs, to prevent
its being clandestinely brought ashore, was thiown into the
sea, by a party of about two hundred young men, dressed,
armed, and painted like Indians: but many a ruffled shirt and
laced vest appeared under their blankets.
J Primed, i. e. painted.

§ When the leading Whirrs in Boston found it impossible to
procure tlve Tea to be sent back, they secretly resolved on its
destruction, and prepared all the necessary means. To cover
the design, a meeting of the people of the' whole County was
convened on the day appointed, and spent their time in ;rrave
consultation on the question, what should be done to prevent
its being landed and sold. The arrival of the Indians put an
end to the debate, at the moment when one of the foremost of
the whig-orators was declaiming against all violent measures.
Hutchinson was alarmed at the meeting, and retired privately
in the morning, to bis country-seat at Milton. Whether from
mistake or design, information was sent to him that the mob
was coming to pull down ins house. Heescapedin the utmost
haste across the fields. The story of the day was, that the
alarm was given, at the time when he sat half-shaved uuder
the hands of his barber.

316

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Manceuvred to his country seat,
And thence affrighted, in the suds,
Stole off bareheaded through the woods.

" Have you not roused your mobs to join,
And make Mandamus-men resign,
Call'd forth each duffil-drest curmudgeon,
With dirty trowsers and white bludgeon,
Forced all our Councils through the land,
To yield their necks at your command ;
While paleness marks their late disgraces,
Through all their rueful lej gth of faces?

" Have you not caused as woeful work
In our good city of New York,
When all the rabble, well cockaded,
In triumph through the streets paraded,
And mobb'd the Tories, scared their spouses,
And ransack'd all the custom-houses ;*
Made such a tumult, bluster, jarring,
That mid the clash of tempests waning,
Smith'sf weather-cock, in veers forlorn,
Could hardly tell which way to turn?
Burn'd effigies of higher powers,
Contrived in planetary hours;
As witches with clay-images
Destroy or torture whom they please:
Till fired with rage, th' ungrateful club
Spared not your best friend Beelzebub,
O'erlook'd his favors, and forgot
The reverence due his cloven foot,
And in the selfsame furnace frying,
Stew'd him, and Korth and Bute and Tryon?|
Did you not, in as vile and shallow way,
Flight our poor Pliiladelphhin, Galloway,
Your Congress, wdien the loyal ribald
Belied, berated and bescribbled?
What ropes and halters did you send,
Terrific emblems of his end,
Till, least he'd hang in more than effigy,
Fled in a fog the trembling refugee ?
Now rising in progression fatal,
Have you not ventured to give battle ?
When Treason chaced our heroes troubled,
With rusty gun, 8 and leathern doublet ;
Turn'd all stone-walls and groves and bushes,
To batteries arm'd with blunderbusses;
And with deep wounds, that fate portend,
Gaul'd many a Briton's latter end;
Drove them to Boston, as in jail,
Confincl without mainprise or bail.
Were not these deeds enough betimes,
To heap the measure of your crimes :
But in this loyal town and dwelling,
You raise these ensigns of rebellion ?
'Tis done ! fair Mercy shuts her door ;
And Vengeance now shall sleep no more.
Rise then, my friends, in terror rise ;
And sweep this scandal from the skies.
You'll see their Dagon, though well jointed
Will shrink before the Lord's anointed ; II

* The custom-house was broken open at New- York, and all
public monies seized.

T William Smith, an eminent law)-er in New York. He at
first opposed the claims of Britain, but after wavering some
time, at last joined our enemy. He has since been Chief Justice
in Canada.

X Tryon was Governor of New York and a British General
during the war. He had the glory of destroying the towns of
Fairfield and Norwalk. Burnings in effigy were frequently
the amusements of the mob at that period, and in imitation
of the former custom of the English in burning annually the
Pope, the Devil and the Pretender, Beelzebub, with his usual
figure and accoutrements, was always joio'd in the conflagra-
tion with the other obnoxious characters.

§ At the battle of Lexington.

J The Tory clergy always styled the King, the Lord's
Anointed. The language of Cromwell's and Charles's days
was yet frequent in New England,

And like old Jericho's proud wall,
Before our ram's horns prostrate fall."

This said, our 'Squire, yet uudismay'J,
Call'd forth the Constable to aid,
And bade him read, in nearer station,
The Riot-act and Proclamation.
He swift, advancing to the ring,
Began, " Our Sovereign Lord, the King" — ■
When thousand clam'rous tongues he heaia,
And clubs aud stones assail his ears.
To fly was vain ; to fight was idle ;
By foes encompass'd in the middle,
His hope, in stratagems, he found,
And fell right craftily to ground ;
Then crept to seek an hiding place,
'Twas all he could, beneath a brace ;
Where soon the conq'ring crew espied him,
And where he lurk'd, they caught and tied him.

At once with resolution fatal,
Both Whigs and Tories rueh'd to battle.
Instead of weapons, either band
Seized on such arms as came to hand.
And as famed Ovid* paints th' adventures
Of wrangling Lapiths and Centaurs,
Who at their feast, by Bat*hus led,
Threw bottles at each other's head ;
And these arms failing in their scuffles,
Attack'd with andirons, tongs and shovels ;
So clubs and billets, staves and stones
Met fierce, encountering every sconce,
And cover'd o'er with knobs and pains
Each void receptacle for brains ;
Their clamours rend the skies around,
The hills rebellow to the sound;
And many a groan increas'd the din
From batter'd nose and broken shin
M'Fingal, rising at the word,
Drew forth his old militia-sword;
Thrice cried " King George," as erst in distress,
Knights of romance invoked a mistress ;
And brandishing the blade in air,
Struck terror through th' opposing war.
The Whigs, unsafe within the wind
Of such commotion, shrunk behind.
With whirling steel around address'd,
Fierce through their thickest throng he press'd
(Who roll'd on either side in arch,
Like Red Sea waves in Israel's march)
And like a meteor rushing through,
Struck on their Pole a vengeful blow.
Around, the Whigs, of clubs and stones
Discharged whole vollies, in platoons,
That o'er in whistling fury fly ;
But not a foe dares venture nigh.
And now perhaps with glory crown'd
Our 'Squire had fell'd the pole to ground,
Had not some Pow'r, a whig at heart,
Descended down and took their part ;\
(Whether 'twere Pallas, Mars or Ins,
'Tis scarce worth while to make inquiries)
Who at the nick of time alarming,
Assum'd the solemn form of Chairman,
Address'd a Whig, in every scene
The stoutest wrestler on the green,
And pointed where the spade was found.
Late used to set their pole in ground,
And urged, with equal arms and might,
To dare our 'Squire to single fight.
The Whig thus arm'd, untaught to yield,

* See Ovid's Metamorphoses, book 12th.

t The learned reader will readily observe the allusions In
this scene, to the single combats of Paris and Menelaus in Ho-
mer, jEneas and Turuus in Virgil, and Michael and Satan ia
Milton,

JOHN TKUMBUIX.

317

Advanced tremendous to the field :
Nor did M'Fingal shun the foe,
But stood to brave the desp'rate blow ;
While all the party gazed, suspended
To see the deadly combat ended ;
Aud Jove* in equal balance weigh'd
The sword against the brandish'd spade,
He weigh'd : but lighter than a dream,
The sword flew up and kick'd the beam.
Our 'Squire on tiptoe rising fail-
Lifts high a noble stroke in air,
Which hung not, but like dreadful engines,
Descended on his foe in vengeance.
But ah ! in danger, with dishonor
The sword perfidious fails its owner;
That sword, which oft had stood its ground,
By huge trainbands encircled round;
And on the bench, with blade right loyal,
Had won the day at many a trial, f
Of stones and clubs had braved th' alarms,
Shrunk from these new Vulcaniau arms.t.
The spade so temper'd from the sledge,
Nor keen nor solid harm'd its edge,
Now met it, from his arm of might,
Descending with steep force to smite;
The blade snapp'd short — -aud from his hand,
With rust embrowu'd the glittering sand.
Swift turn'd M'Fixqal at the view,
And call'd to aid th' attendant crew,
In vain ; the Tories all had run,
When scarce the fight was well begun:
Their setting wigs lie saw decreas'd
Far in th' horizon tow'rd the west-
Amazed he view'd the shameful sight,
And saw no refuge, but in flight :
But age unwieldy check'd his pace,
Though fear had wing'd his flying race ;
For not a trifling prize at stake;
No less than great M'Fingal's back.§
With legs and arms he work'd his course,
Like rider that outgoes his horse,
And labor'd hard to get away, as
Old Satan] struggling on through chaos;
'Till looking back, he spied in rear
The spade-arm'd chief advanced too near :
Then stopp'd and seiz'd a stone that lay
An ancient landmark near the way;
Nor shall we as old bards have done,
Affirm it weigh'd an hundred ton ;■([
But such a stone, as at a shift
A modern might suffice to lift,
Since men, to credit their enigmas,
Are dwindled down to dwarfs and pigmies,
And giants exiled with their cronies
To Brobdignags and Patagonias.
But while our Hero turn'd him round,
And tugg'd to raise it from the ground,
The fatal spade discharged a blow
Tremendous on his rear below :

* Jupiter ipse duas ffiquato examine lances
Sustinet & fata impouit diversa daorum,
Quern damnet labor, &c. sEneid, xii.

t It was the fashion in New-England at that time forjudges
to wear swords on the bench.

X Postquam arma Dei ad Vulcania ventum est,

Mortalis macro, glacies ecu futilis, icta
^Dissiluit; fulva resplendent fragmina arena. Virgil.

The sword

"Was given him temper'd so, that neither keen
Nor solid might resist that edge; it met
The sword of Satan with steep force to smite
Descending and in half cut sheer. MiUon.

§ Nee onim levia aut ludicra petuntur

Prffimia, sed Tumi de vita et sanguine certant. Virgil.
! In Milton.
^ This thought is taken from Juvenal, Satire 13.

His bent knee fail'd,* and void of strength

Stretch'd on the ground his manly length.

Like ancient oak o'erturu'd, he lay,

Or tower to tempests fall'n a prey,

Or mountain sunk with all his pines,

Or flow'r the plow to dust consigns,

And more things else — but all men know 'em,

If slightly versed in epic poem.

At once the crew, at this dread crisis,

Fall on, and bind him, ere he rises;

And with loud shouts and joyful soul,

Conduct him prisoner to the pole.

When now the mob in lucky hour

Had got their eu'mies in their power,

They first proceed, by grave command,

To take the Constable in hand.

Then from the pole's sublimest top

The active crew let down the rope,

At once its other end in haste bind,

And make it fast upon his waistband;

Till like the earth, as stretch'd on tenter,

He hung self-balanced on his centre. f

Then upwards, all hands hoisting sail,

They swung him, like a keg of ale,

Till to the pinnacle in height

He vaulted, like balloon or kite.

As Socratest. of old at first did

To aid philosophy get hoisted,

And found his thoughts flow strangely clear,

Swung in a basket in mid air;

Our culprit thus, in purer sky,

With like advantage raised his eye,

And looking forth in prospect wide,

His Tory errors clearly spied,

And from his elevated station,

Witli bawling voice began addressing.

" Good gentlemen and friends and kin,
For heaven's sake hear, if not for mine 1
I here renounce the Pope, the Turks,
The King, the Devil, aud all their works;
Ami will, set me but once at ease.
Turn Whig or Christian, what you please;
And always mind your rules so justly,
Should I live long as old Jlethus'lah,"
I'll never join in British rage,
Nor help Lord North, nor Gen'ral Gage ;
Nor lift my gun in future fights,
Nor take away your Charter-rights ;
Nor overcome your new-raised levies,
Destroy your towns, nor burn your navies ;
Nor cut your poles down while I've breath,
Though raised more thick than hatchel-teeth ;
But leave King George and all his elves
To do their conq'ring work themselves."

This said, they lower'd him down in state,
Spread at all points, like falling cat ;
But took a vote first on the question,
That they'd accept this full confession,
And to their fellowship and favor.
Restore him on his good behaviour.

Not so our 'Squire submits to rule,
But stood, heroic as a mule.
" You'll find it all in vain, quoth he,
To play your rebel tricks on me.
All punishments, the world can render,
Serve only to provoke th' offender ;
The will gains strength from treatment horrid.
As hides grow harder when they're curried.
No man e'er felt the halter draw,

* Genua labant-

-incidit ictus.

u,.,, nn IL1UJIII IlieiUlb 11.KIS.

Ingens ad terrain duplicato popllte Turuus. Virgil.
t And earth self-balanced on her centre hung. MiUon.
X In Aristophnnes's Comedy of the Clouds, Socrates is repre-
sented as hoisted iu a basket to aid contemplation.

318

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

With good opinion of the law ;

Or held in method orthodox

His love of justice, in the stocks:

Or fiiil'd to lose by sheriff's shears

At once his loyalty and ears.

Have you made Murray* look less big,

Or smoked old Williams* to a Whig?

Did our niobb'd Ol'verf quit his station,

Or heed his vows of resignation?

Has Rivington,J in dread of stripes,

Ceased lying since you stole his types?

And can you think my faith will alter,

By tarring, whipping, or the halter?

I'll stand the worst ; for recompense

I trust King George and Providence.

And when with conquest gain'd I come,

Array'd in law and terror home,

Ye'll rue this inauspicious morn,

And curse the day, when ye were born,

In Job's high style of imprecations,

With all his plagues, without his patienee."

Meanwhile beside the pole, the guard
A Bench of Justice had prepared, §
Where sitting round in awful sort
The grand Committee hold their Court ;
While all the crew, in silent awe,
Wait from their lips the lore of law.
Few moments with deliberation
They hold the solemn consultation ;
When soon in judgment all agree,
And Cleric proclaims the dread decree ;
"That 'Squire M'Fingal having grown
The vilest Tory in the town,
And now in full examination
Convicted by his own confession,
Finding no tokens of repentance,
This Court proceeds to render sentence:
That first the Hob a slip-knot single
Tie round the neck of said M'Fingal,
And in due form do tar him next,
And feather, as the law directs ;
Then through the town attendant ride him
In cart with Constable beside him,
And having held him up to shame,
Bring to the pole, from whence he came;"

Forthwith the crowd proceed to deck
WTith halter'd noose M'Fingal's neck,
While he in peril of his soul
Stood tied half-hanging to the pole;
Then lifting high the ponderous jar,
Pour'd o'er his head the smoaking tar.
With less profusion once was spread
Oil on the Jewish monarch's head,
That down his beard and vestments ran,
And eover'd all his outward man.
As when (so ClaudianJ sings) the Gods
And earth-born Giants fell at odds,
The stout Enceladus in malice
Tore mountains up to throw at Pallas ;
And while he held them o'er his head,
The river, from their fountains fed,
Pour'd down his back its copious tide,

* Members of the Mandamus Council in Massachusetts.
The operation of smoking Tories was thus performed. The
victim was confined in a close room before a large fire of green
wood, and a cover applied to the top of the chimney.

t Thomas Oliver, Esq. Lieut. Governor of Massachusetts.
He was surrounded at his seat in the country and intimidated
by the mob into the signing of his resignation.

t Kivington was a tory Printer in New York. Just before
the commencement of the war. a party from New Haven at-
tacked his press, and carried otf or destroyed the types.

§ An imitation of legal forms was universally practised by
the mobs in New-England, in the trial and condemnation of
Tories. This marks a curious trait of nutional character.

'; Claudian's Gigantomachia,

And wore its channels in his hide :

So from the high-raised urn the torrents

Spread down his side their various currents :

His flowing wig, as next the brim,

First met and drank the sable stream ;

Adown his visage stern and grave

Roll'd and adhered the viscid wave;

With arms depending as he stood,

Each cuff capacious holds the flood;

From nose and chin's remotest end,

The tarry icicles descend ;

Till all o'erspread, with colors gay,

He glitter'd to the western ray,

Like sleet-bound trees in wintry skies,

Or Lapland idol carved in ice.

And now the feather-bag displayed

Is waved in triumph o'er his head,

And clouds him o'er with feathers missive,

And down, upon the tar, adhesive:

Not Maia's* son, with wings for ears,

Such plumage round his visage wears;

Nor Milton's six-wing'df angel gathers

Such superfluity of feathers.

Now all complete appears our 'Squire,

Like Gorgon or Chimsera dire ;

Kor more could boast on Plato's^ plan

To rank among the race of man,

Or prove his claim to human nature,

As a two-legg'd, unfeather'd creature.

Then on the fatal cart, in state
They raised our grand Duumvirate.
And as at Rome§ a like committee,
Who found an owl within their city,
With solemn rites and grave processions
At every shrine perform'd lustrations ;
And least infection might take place
From such grim fowl with feather'd face,
All Rome attends him through the street
In triumph to his country seat:
With like devotion all the choir
Paraded round our awful 'Squire ;
In front the martial music comes
Of horns and fiddles, fifes and drum9,
With jingling sound of carriage bells,
And treble creak of rusted wheels.
Behind, the crowd, in lengthen'd row
With proud procession, closed the show.
And at fit periods every throat
Combined in universal shout ;
And hail'd great Liberty in chorus,
Or bawl'd " confusion to the Tories."
Not louder storm the welkin braves
From clamors of conflicting waves ;
Less dire in Lybian wilds the noise
When rav'ning lions lift their voice;
Or triumphs at town-meetings made,
On passing votes to regulate trade.]

Thus having borne them round the town,
Last at the pole they set them down ;
And to the tavern take their way
To end in mirth the festal day.

And now the Mob, dispersed and gone,
Left 'Squire and Constable alone.
The constable with rueful face
Lean'd sad and solemn o'er a brace ;
And fast beside him, cheek by jowl,

* Mercury, described by the Poets with wings on his head
and feet.

t And angel wing'd — six wings he wore. — Milton.

% Alluding to Plato's famous definition of Man, Animal
Mpef> i/trtplumc — a two-legged animal without feathers.

§ Livy's History.

\ Such votes were frequently passed at town-meetings, with
the view to prevent the augmentation of prices, and stop the
depreciation of the paper money.

LEMUEL HOPKINS.

319

Stuck 'Squire M'Fmgal 'gainst the pole,

Glued by the tar t' his rear applied,

Like barnacle on vessel's side.

But though his body lack'd physician,

His spirit was in worse condition.

He found his fears of whips and ropes

By many a drachm outweigh'd his hopes.

As men in jail without mainprize

View everything with other eyes,

And all goes wrong in church and state,

Seen through perspective of the grate :

So now M'Finoal's Second-sight

Beheld all things m gloomier light;

His visual nerve, well purged with tar,

Saw all the coming scenes of war.

As his prophetic soul grew stronger,

He found he could hold in no longer.

First from the pole, as fierce lie shook,

His wig from pitchy durance broke,

His mouth unglued, his feathers flutter'd,

His tarr'd skirts crack'd, and thus he uttered.

" Ah, Mr. Constable, in vain
We strive 'gainst wind and tide and rain!
Behold my doom ! this feathery omen
Portends what dismal times are coming.
Now future scenes, before my eyes,
And second-sighted forms arise.
I hear a voice,* that calls away,
And cries ' The Whigs will win the day.'
Mybeck'ning Genius gives command,
And bids me fly the fatal land ;
Where changing name and constitution,
Rebellion turns to Revolution,
While Loyalty, oppress'd, in tears,
Stands trembling for its neck and ears.

" Go, summon all our brethren, greeting,
To muster at our usual meeting ;
There my prophetic voice shall warn 'em
Of all things future that concern 'em,
And scenes disclose on which, my friend,
Their conduct and their lives depend.
There 1* — but first 'tis more of use,
From this vile pole to set me loose;
Then go with cautious steps and steady,
While I steer home and make all ready."

LEMUEL HOPKINS.

Dr. Lemuel Hopkins, one of the Hartford poets
of the Revolutionary era, was born at Waterbury,
Connecticut, June 19, 1750. He was the son of
a farmer, and was well educated. Constitutional
ill health is said to have determined him to the
study of medicine. He became a practitioner at
Litchfield about 1776, and served for a short time
as a volunteer in the American army. He re-
moved to Hartford about 1784, where he passed
the remainder of his life, his death occurring on
the 14th April, 1801, in his fifty-first year. It is
a little singular that while he wrote most pun-
gently against quacks and quackery, his own
over-solicitude as to disease should have hastened
his deal^. He feared an attack of pulmonary
consumption, and to ward it off, caused himself
to be bled repeatedly, till the weakness induced a
dropsy in the chest. The sensitiveness of his
body probably sharpened his satirical powers,
which were keen enough when his pen fastened
upon Ethan Allen. The lines appear in the

* I hear a voice, you cannot hear,
That says, I must not stay— Tkkell's BaUad.

t Quos ego — sed inotos praestat coinponere fluctus.

Virgil.

Litchfield collection of "American Poems," pub-
lished in 1793*

ON GENERAL ETHAN ALLEN.

Lo, Allen 'scaped from British jails,

His tushes broke by biting nails,

Appears in Hyperborean skies,

To tell the world the Bible lies.

See him on green hills north afar

Glow like a self-enkindled star,

Prepar'd (with mob-collecting club

Black from the forge of Belzebub,

And grim with metaphysic scowl,

With quill just plucked from wing of owl)

As rage or reason rise or sink,

To shed his blood, or shed his ink.

Behold inspired from Vermont dens,

The seer of Antichrist descends,

To feed new mobs with Hell-born manna

In Gentile lands of Susquehanna ;

And teach the Pennsylvania quaker,

High blasphemies against his maker.

Behold him move, ye staunch divines!

His tall head bustling through the pines;

All front he seems like wall of brass, .

And brays tremendous as an ass ;

One hand is clench'd to batter noses,

While t'other scrawls 'gainst Paul and Moses.

Hopkins's poetical reputation had been gained
by association with Humphreys, Trumbull, and
Barlow, in the political essays in verse which

appeared in the series of the AnarcMad and the
Echo. The former was written for the Hartford
and New Haven newspapers, and reached twen-
ty-four numbers. The Anarchiad is a descriptive
and satiric poem in the ten-syllable measure,
levelled at the state of political disruption pre-
ceding the establishment of the Federal Constitu-
tion. Its plan is thus described by Everest —
" Public curiosity had been awakened by the dis-

* This production was printed by Co
marked Vol. I. It contains poems by Trumbull, Dwight,

and Buel and

Barlow, Hopkins, Humphreys, llopkinson, William Living-
ston, Mrs. Morton, James Allen, aud others. A postscript
announces the intention of the editors to pursue their design,
and "■ should sufficient encouragement appeal', to publish a
second volume in the course of the next two years. Many dis-
appointments, the ill health of one of the editors, and other
circumstances, too complicated and painful to mention, have
contributed to render their work less perfect than their expec-
tations and promises." All this pai;;l'ul apoiogy over a single
12mo. volume at the cud of the last century.

320

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

covery of ancient Indian fortifications, with their
singular relics: the story of the early emigration
of a body of Britons and Welsh to this country,
and of an existing tribe of their descendants in the
interior of the continent, was revived and circu-
lated : and our writers assumed that, in digging
among the ruins of one of these fortifications, an
ancient heroic poem in the English language had
been discovered. This was the Anarchiad, and
the essays were supposed extracts from it."*

A letter to Oliver Woloott of this date, on the
Genet times, lias a profound social and political
truth well expressed, and shows Hopkins a skilful
prose writer. "The southern democrats appear
in newspapers, in speeches in Congress, &c, to
come much nearer effecting their measures than
is really the case. It never was nor can be, that
the measures of such men should be popular in
New England. There is no such tiling as know-
ing such a people as the New Englanders, so as
to calculate crooked politics to their taste, with-
out living among them from early youth. Ha-
rangues, ever so well peppered with 'well-born,'
' monocrats,' 'aristocrats,' 'hell of monarchy,'
&c. &c, are so far from really effecting anything
in these parts, that whenever the still thinking
part of the community can be brought to manifest
their minds on any measure of consequence, they
will at once drown a din of complaining politics
which, of itself, would seem formidable. The
more a man is among all sorts of people, the more
fully will he learn the unmeasured difference
there is between the sentiment of newspapers,
replete with local politics, and the opinions of an
enlightened people in the peaceable and successful
pursuit of wealth and happiness. I find more
and more, that a busy set of wrongheads can at
pleasure stir up for a time any sentiments they
please in cities, and that there is a great aptitude
in most men to consider cities as worlds, or at
least as the manufactories of sentiments for whole
countries, and much of this may be true in the
old world ; but in New England the contrary is
and ever will be true as long as our schools,
presses, and town corporations last.''t

To the Eclio he contributed only the two New
Year's Addresses for the Connecticut Couraut of
17U5 and 'G, and portions of The Political Green
House for the year 1798.* In these passages he
celebrates the arrival of Genet.

But though the French are giant sinners,
Yet have we not Tom Thumb beginners?
Which though a molish sort of mice,
May grow to rats like nits to lice.
Gnaw thro' our vessel's lower quarter.
And fill, and sink her in deep water.
See fraught with democratic lore,
Genet arriv'd on Charleston shore.
But, as was meet, first broach'd his mission,
To men of sans-culotte condition ;
Who throiig'd around with open throat'-,
As round old Crusoe flock'd the goats,
And learn'd his sermon, to his wishes,
As Austin taught huge shoals of fishes ;
Made all the antifederal presses,
Screech shrill hosaunas, styl'd addresses;
And while to Court he took his way,

« Poets of Connecticut, p. 39.

t Gibbs's Administration of Washington and Adams, ii. 105

Sung hallelujahs to Genet ;

But still our Palinurus saw,

With cool contempt this stormy flaw,

And, spite of all the Belial band,

Steer'd safe our leaky bark to land.

Like Hessian flies, imported o'er,

Clubs self-create infest our shore.

And see yon western rebel band,

A medley mix'd from ev'ry land ;

Scotch, Irish, renegadoes rude,

From Faction's dregs fermenting brew'd ;

Misguided tools of antifeds,

With clubs anarchical for your heads,

Why would ye make this cost and trouble

Yourselves of warlike flnmes the stubble?

Tire down the arm out-stretch'd to save,

And freedom's cradle make her grave ?

The fatal year of Robespierre, and the hope
of Poland in Kosciusko, and such home matters
as the mania for land speculation, Wayne's Indian
victory, and Washington's second appointment as
Commander-in-CIiief by President Adams.

Eas'd now of much incumbent weight,
Proceeds the business of the State,
Rais'd by the sounds of war's alarms,
Our ardent youth all fly to arms,
And from the work-shop and the field,
The active labourers seize the shield ;
While on the silver'd brow of age,
Relumes the fire of martial rage.
Our veteran Chiefs, whose honour'd scars
Are trophies still of former wars,
Appointed move beneath their shield,
To reap the ripen'd martial field,
Aud lo ! from Vernon's sacred hill,
Where peaceful spirits love to dwell —
Where twice retir'd from war's alarms,
Slept, and awoke, his conquering arms,
The Hero comes ! — whose Laurels green,
In bloom eternal shall be seen ;
While Gallic Ivy fades away,
Before the scorching eye of Day.
He comes ! — he comes ! to re-array
Your hosts, ye heroes, for th' affray !
Him for your head — collect from far
The shield, the sword, and plume of war;
Indignant earth rejoicing hears,
Fell insult bristling up your spears,
And joins her busts to crush the foes,
Of virtue and her own repose.

Jefferson had nothing to thank Dr. Lemuel
Hopkins for, if the lines which follow are from
his pen: —

Great sire of stories past belief,
Historian of the Mingo chief,
Philosopher of Indian's hair,
Inventor of a rocking chair.
The correspondent of M.izze
And Banneker less black than he!
With joy we find you rise from coguing
With Judge M'Kean and "foolish Lj|gau,"
And reeling down the factious dance,
Dispatch the Doctor off to France,
To tell the Frenchmen, to their cost,
They reckon'd here without their host.

Allen, who brings his characters to a religious
test in his "American Biographical Dictionary,''
intimates that Hopkins himself at one time had
some sympathies in common with Jefferson. " In
his early life," says he, "he admired the infidel
philosophers of France ; in his last days he read

LEMUEL HOPKINS.

321

the Bible." His personal appearance was peculiar,
" tall, lean, stooping, and long-limbed, with large
features and light eyes," says Kettell, to which
description Allen supplies a corresponding anec-
dote, connected with his medical practice. — "As
a physician, he was remarkable for his unceasing
attentions to his patients, sometimes devoting to
one patient whole days and nights. Once, on
being called to a child sick with the scarlet fever
in a family to which he was a stranger, he
entered the room without saying a word, and,
seeing the child loaded with bed-clothes in a
heated room, he seized the child in his arms, and
rushed out of the house, followed with cries and
broomsticks, for his appearance was uncouth and
ugly. But resting in a cool shade, he called fir
wine, and had the pleasure of seeing the child
restored to health."

There has been no separate collection of Dr.
Hopkins's poetry.

A PLEA FOP. TTNION A?H> TFTR COKSTITCTTON. — FT.OM THE
ANAECHIAD.

Ye sire? of nations, call'd in high debate.
From kindred realms, to save the sinking state,
A boundless sway on one broad base to rear —
My voice paternal claims your lingering ear;
O'er the wide clime my fostering cares extend,
Your guardian genius and your deathless friend.

When splendid victory oa her trophied car,
Swept from these shores the last remains of war,
Bade each glad state, that boasts Columbia's name,
Exult in freedom and ascend to fame.
To bliss unbounded stretch their ardent eyes,
And wealth and empire from their labor rise,
My raptured sons beheld the discord cease,
And soothed their sorrows in the songs of peace.

Shall these bright scenes, with happiest omens
born,
Fade like the fleeting visions of the morn ?
Shall this fair fabric from its base be hurl'd.
And whelm ill dust the glories of the world?
Will ye, who s;iw the heavens tempestuous lower,
Who felt the arm of irritated power,
Whose soils distending with the waiting flood,
Prepare! the firm foundations, built in blood,
By discord seized, will ye desert the plan?
The unfiaish'd Babel of the bliss of man ?

Go search the field of death, where heroes, lost
In graves obscure, can tell what freedom cost.
Tho;igh conquest smiled ; there slain amid the crowd,
And plung'd promiscuous with no winding shroud,
No friendly hand their gory wounds to lave.
The thousands moulder in a common grave,
Not so thy soa, oh Laurens! gasping lies.
Too daring youth, war's latest sacrifice;
His snow-white bosom heaves with writhing pain,
The purple drops his snow-white bosom stain;
His cheek of rose is wan, a deadly hue
Sits oa his face, that chills with lucid dew. —
There Warren, glorious with expiring breath,
A comely corse that smiles in ghostly death :
Sea Mercer bleeJ, and o'er yon wintry wall,
'Mil heips of slain, see great Montgomerv fall !

Behold those veterans worn with want and care,
Their si.icws'stiffen'd, silver'd o'er their hair,
Weak in their steps of age, they move forlorn,
Their toils forgotten by the sons of scorn ;
This hateful truth still aggravates the pain.
In vain they conquer'd, and they bled in vain.
Go then, ye remnants of inglorious wars,
Disown your marks of merit, hide your fears,
Of lust, of power, of titled pride accused,
Steal to your graves dishouor'd and abused.

VOL. I. — 21

For see, proud faction waves her flaming brand.
And discord riots o'er the ungrateful land;
Lo, to the north a wild adventurous crew*
In desperate mobs the savage state renew;
Each felon chief his maddening thousands draws,
And claims bold license from the bond of laws ;
In other states the chosen sires of shame,
Stamp their vile knaveries with a legal name ;
In honor's seat the sons of meanness swarm,
And senates base, the work of mobs perform,
To wealth, to power the sons of union rise,
While foes deride you and while friends despise.
Stand forth, ye traitors, at your country's bar,
Inglorious authors of intestine war,
What countless mischiefs from their labors rise !
Pens dipped in gall, and lips inspired with lies!
Ye sires of ruin, prime detested cause
Of bankrupt faith, annihilated laws,
Of selfish systems, jealous, local schemes,
And union'd empire lost in empty dreams:
Your names expanding with your growing crime,
Shall float disgustful down the stream of time,
Each future age applaud the avenging song,
And outraged nature vindicate the wrong.

Yes, there are men. who, touch' d with heavenly fire,
Beyond the confines of these climes aspire,
Beyond the praises of a tyrant age,
To live immortal in the patriot page ;
Who greatly dare, though warning worlds oppose,
To pour just vengeance on their country's foes.

And lo ! the etherial worlds assert your cause,
Celestial aid the voice of virtue draws ;
The curtains blue of yon expansion rend:
From opening skies heroic shades descend.
See, robed in light, the forms of heaven appear,
The warrior spirits of your friends are near;
Each on his steed of fire (his quiver stored
With shafts of vengeance) grasps his flaming sword:
The burning blade waves high, and dipp'd in blood,
Hurls plagues and death on discord's faithless brood.
Yet wdiat the hope? the dreams of congress fade,
The federal union sinks in endless shade,
Each feeble call, that warns the realms around,
Seems the faint echo of a dying sound,
Each requisition wafts in fleeting air,
And not one state regards the powerless prayer.
Ye wanton states, by heaven's best blessings
cursed,
Long on the lap of fostering luxury nursed,
What fickle frenzy raves, what visions strange.
Inspire }-our bosoms with the Inst of change i
And frames the wish to fly from fancied ill,
And yield your freedom to a monarch's will ?
Go view the lands to lawdess power a prey.
Where tyrants govern with unbounded sway ;
See the long pomp in gorgeous state display'd,
The tinsel'd guards, the squadron'd horse parade ;
See heralds gay with emblems on their vest,
In tissued robes tall beauteous pages drest;
Where moves the pageant, throng unnumber'd slaves,
Lords, dukes, and princes, titulary knaves
Confusedly shine, the purple gemm'd with stars,
Sceptres, and globes, and crowns, and rubie 1 cars,
On jyilded orbs the thundering chariots roll'd,
Steeds snorting fire, and champing bitts of gold,
Prance to the trumpet's voice — while each assumes
A loftier gait, and lifts his neck of plumes.
High on the moving throne, and uear the van,
The tyrant rides, the chosen scourge of man ;
Clarions, and flutes, and drums his way prepare,
Ami shouting millions rend the conscious air ;
Millions, whose ceaseless toils the pomp sustain,
Whose hour of stupid joy repays an age of pain.
From years of darkness springs the regal line,
Hereditary kings by right divine ;

322

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Tis theirs to riot on all nature's spoils,
For them "with pangs unblest the peasant toils,
For them the earth prolific teems with grain,
Theirs, the dread labors of the devious main,
Annual for them the wasted land renews
The gifts oppressive, and extorted dues.
For them when slaughter spreads the gory plains,
The life-blood gushes from a thousand veins,
"While the dull herd, of earth-born pomp afraid,
Adore the power that coward meanness made.
Let Poland tell what woe returning springs,
Where light elective yields the crown to kings !
War guides the choice — each candidate abhorr'd
Founds his firm title on the wasting sword,
Wades to the throne amid the sanguine flood,
And dips his purple in the nation's blood.

Behold, where Venice rears her sea-girt towers,
O'er the vile crowd proud oligarchy lowers;
While each Aristocrat affects a throne,
Beneath a thousand kings the poor plebeians groan.

Nor less abhorr'd the certain woe that waits
The giddy rage of democratic states;
Whose popular breath, high blown in restless tide,
No laws can temper, and no reason guide;
An equal sway their mind indignant spurns,
To wanton change the bliss of freedom turns,
Led by wild demagogues the factious crowd,
Mean, fierce, imperious, insolent and loud,
Nor fame nor wealth nor power nor system draws,
They see no object and perceive no cause,
But feel by turns, in one disastrous hour,
Th' extremes of license and th' extremes of power.

What madness prompts, or what ill-omen'd fates,
Your realm to parcel into petty states ?
Shall lordly Hudson part contending powers?
And broad Potomac lave two hostile shores?
Must Allegany's sacred summits bear
The impious bulwarks of perpetual war?
Bis hundred streams receive your heroes slain?
And bear your sons inglorious to the main ?
Will states cement by feebler bonds allied ?
Or join more closely as they more divide ?
Will this vain scheme bid restless factious cease?
Check foreign wars or fix internal peace?
Call public credit from her grave to rise?
Or gain in grandeur what they lose in size?
In this weak realm can countless kingdoms start,
Strong with new force in each divided part?
While empire's head, divided into four,
Gains life by severance of diminish'd power?
So when the philosophic hand divides
The full grown polypus in genial tides,
Each sevcr'd part, inform'd with latent life,
Acquires new vigor from the friendly knife,
O'er peopled sands the puny insects creep,
Till the next wave absorbs them in the deep.

What then remains? must pilgrim freedom ily
From these loved regions to her native sky ?
When the fair fugitive the orient chased,
She fix'd her seat beyond the watery waste ;
Her docile sons (enough of power resign'd,
And natural rites in social leagues combined,)
In virtue firm, though jealous in her cause,
Gave senates force and energy to laws, •

From ancient habit local powers obey,
Yet feel no reverence for one general sway.
For breach of faith no keen compulsion feel,
And feel no interest in the federal weal.
But know, ye favored race, one potent head,
Must rule your states, and strike your foes with

dread,
The finance regulate, the trade control,
Live through the empire, and accord the whole.

Ere death invades, and night's deep curtain falls,
Through ruin'd realms the voice of Union calls,

Loud as the trump of heaven through darkness

roars,
When gyral gusts entomb Caribbean towers,
When nature trembles through the deeps convulsed,
And ocean foams from craggy cliffs repulsed,
On you she calls! attend the warning cry,
" Ye live united, or divided die."

THE HYPOCRmf6 nOPE,

Blest is the man, who from the womb

To saintship him betakes,
And when too soon his child shall come,

A long confession makes.

When next in Broad Chureh-alley he

Shall take his former place,
Relates his past iniquity,

And consequential grace ;

Declares how long by Satan vexM,

From truth he did depart,
And tells the time, and tells the te?. t,

That smote his flinty heart.

He stands in half-way-covenant sure ;

Full five long years or more,
One foot in church's pale secure,

The other out of door.

Then riper grown in gifts and grace.

With every rite complies,
And deeper lengthens down his face,

And higher rolls his eyes.

He tones like Pharisee sublime,

Two lengthy prayers a day,
The same that lie from early prime,

Has heard his father say.

Each Sunday perch'd on bench of pew,

To passing priest he bows,
Then loudly 'mid the quavering crew,

Attunes his vocal nose.

With awful look then rises slow,

And prayerful visage sour,
More fit to fright the apostate foe,

Than seek a pardoning power.

Then nodding hears the sermon next,

From priest haranguing loud,
And doubles down each quoted text,

From Genesis to Jude.

And when the priest holds forth address,

To old ones born nnew\
With holy pride and wrinkled face,

He rises in his pew.

Good works he eareth nought about,

But faith alone will seek,
"While Sunday's pieties blot out,

The knaveries of the week.

He makes the poor his daily prayer,

Yet drives them from his board ;
And though to his own good he swear.

Through habit breaks his word.

This man advancing fresh and fair,

Shall all his race complete ;
And wave at last his hoary hair,

Arrived at deacon's seat.

There shall he all church honors have,

By joyous brethren given —
Till priest in funeral sermon grave,

Shall send him straight to heaven.

JAMES MADISON.

The name of Madison is identified with the poli-
tical literature of the country, beyond the share -

JAMES MADISON.

323

which his official state papers must claim, by his
defence of the Constitution in the Federalist, and
his faithful history of the Debates in the great
Assembly which gave bounds and authority to
our national government. In these he will be
remembered by the political student in the li-
brary, when the eye is withdrawn from the pub-
lic acts of his administration.

He was born March 5 (Old Style), 1751, at the
house of his maternal grandmother, on the Rappa-
hannock river, in King George county, Virginia.
His home, and the residence of his parents, was
at Montpellier, in Orange county, in the neighbor-
hood of Montieello. His early studies were under
the charge of a Scottish teacher, Donald Robinson,
and of the Episcopal minister of the parish, the
Rev. Thomas Martin. A residence at the College
of William and Mary being considered unhealthy
for a mountaineer, he was sent to Princeton,
where he took his degree in 1772, and so secured
the respect of its president, Dr. Witherspoon, that
he subsequently remarked to Jefferson, that in his
whole career at the college he had never known
him say or do an indiscreet tiling* Thus early
were the prudence and purity of his character
established. He remained with Witherspoon,
continuing his course of reading under his direc-
tion beyond the college term. The two' men
understood each other's high qualities. Madison's
studies at Princeton injured his health for some
years. He allowed at times but three hours out
of the twenty-four to sleep, the rest was given
to his books.t On Ins return to Virginia he
gave some attention to law. Political life, how-
ever, was his vocation, lie gave the first proof
of his advocacy of liberty in his efforts in behalf
of the Baptist clergy, who fell under the penalties
of the existing laws against the preaching of dis-
senters from the established Episcopal Church.
In 1776 he was a member of the Convention
which formed the first constitution of Virginia;
then in the State Legislature, and member of the
Council of State, assisting Henry and Jefferson,
who were then Governors of Virginia; in the
Revolutionary Congress, in 1780, writing the
state papers to Jay in Spain, of instructions as to
the Right on the Mississippi, to the states on the
payment due the army. Again, from 1784-6,
in his State Legislature, distinguishing himself by
the liberality and integrity of his views. In
1787 he was a delegate to the Convention which
formed the Constitution, in which he bore so
active a part in counsel and deliberation. He
was unwearied in his attendance on this body :
and fully conscious of the vast importance of all
its counsels, kept with the diligence of a hired

* John Quiney Adams's Discourse on the Life of Madison.

t The writer of a Memoir in the Democratic Review, proba-
bly its Editor. S. D. Langtree, the publisher of the Madison
Papers, draws this noticeable lesson from the early and pro-
tracted ill-health, with the long life of Madison. "We learn.'1
he says, "from good authority, that for more than sixty years
he suffered from organic bodily irregularity, which is men-
tioned only for the purpose of the encouraging reflection, how
loni'. how cheerful, and how useful life may he, witli tolerable
health, and how much enjoyment may be had, notwithstand-
ing bodily misfortunes, which are a constant source of uneasi-
ness "

reporter, ftdl and accurate reports of all its de-
bates. These lie prepared for publication, and
left as a legacy to his family and his country.
In the preface, which he himself wrote to the
manuscript, he gives this noble motive for the
vast labor encountered in the work : — " The curi-
osity I had felt during my researches into the
history of the most distinguished confederacies,
particularly those of antiquity, and the deficiency
I found in the means of satisfying it, more espe-
cially in what related to the process, the princi-
ples, the reasons, and the anticipations which
prevailed in the formation of them, determined
me to preserve, as far as I could, an exact ac-
count of what might pass in the Convention
whilst executing its trust, with the magnitude of
which I was duly impressed, as I was by the
gratification promised to future curiosity by an
authentic exhibition of the objects, the opinions,
and the reasonings from which the riew system
of government was to receive its peculiar struc-
ture and organization. Nor was I unaware of
the value of such a contribution to the fund of
materials for the history of a Constitution on
which would be staked' the happiness of a people,
great even in its infancy, and possibly the cause
of liberty throughout the world." A half cen-
tury afterwards, in 18i0, these Debates, with por-
tions of his Correspondence, were published by
order of Congress, at the instigation of a message
from General Jackson ; thirty thousand dollars
being paid by Government to Mrs. Madison
for the work. When the result of the debates
was brought before the country for adoption, he
urged their acceptance by a powerful chain of
argument, in clear succinct phrase, in conjunction
with Hamilton, in the Federalist, the labors of
the two being sometimes united in the same arti-
cle. The papers which Madison wrote, and in
which he bore a part, twenty-nine in number,
discuss the tendencies of associated governments
to anarchy rather than despotism, the powers
proposed to be vested in the Union, the relations
of the general with the state authorities, and the
separation and mutual dependence of the forces
of the central authority. He secured the Consti-
tution which he thus urged upon the people, by
his personal exertions in the convention of his
own state for its adoption. When his friend
Jefferson became Secretary of State, he looked
to Madison for counsel when Hamilton attacked
his views in his papers of Pacificus on Neutrality
with France, securing the pen of Madison in
reply, in the letters of Hekidius.

Becoming President, Madison filled the Secre-
taryship during his administration, succeeding to
the Presidency itself in 1809. On the comple-
tion of his second term he withdrew to his home
in Virginia, where, with the exception of a couple
of months while he was engaged in the revision
of the state constitution at Richmond, and las
visits to the University at Charlottesville, where
he succeeded Jefferson as Rector, he never after-
wards went beyond the limits of his county. He
passed his time in the retirement of his family, in
the pursuits of literature and the study of natural
history; his native mildness of character tem-
pered by his chronic illness, till he expired calmly,
June 28, 1836, at the advanced age, for a life-
long invalid, of eighty-five. Shortly before his

32i

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

death, as if to gather up the great constitutional
lessons of his life, he penned these sentences of
advice to his countrymen : — " The advice nearest
to my heart and dearest to my convictions is,
that the Union of the States he cherished and
perpetuated. Let the avowed enemy to it be re-
garded as a Pandora with her box opened, and
the disguised one as the serpent, creeping with
deadly wiles into Paradise."*

JOHN LEDYARD.

JonN Ledtard, one of the most distinguished
of travellers, was born within a few hundred
yards of Fort Griswold, at Groton, Connecticut,
in 1751. He was the eldest son of a sea-captain,
who died at the age of thirty-five, leaving a wi-
dow and four children. Soon after the father's
death, the deed of the small family estate at Gro-
ton disappeared, and the property reverted to the
former owner, the father of the deceased. In con-
sequence of this, the widow repaired with her
children to her father's residence at Southold,
where she married a few years after, Dr. Moore
of that place. John was removed, after this event,
to Hartford, where he became an inmate of his
grandfather's family. He attended school, and at
first studied law ; but abandoning that profession,
at the age of nineteen accepted the invitation of
Dr. Wheelock, an intimate friend of his grand-
father, who died shortly before, this time, to enter
Dartmouth College, and determined to fit himself
for a missionary life among the Indians.

The college had been established but two years
before at Hanover — a place yet surrounded by
the " forest primaeval." Ledyard brought with
him a quantity of calico and other articles de-
signed for use in theatrical representations, to
which he seems to have been very partial.
A stage was fitted up, on which he performed
Syphax in the tragedy of Cato. College life,
however, even with the aid of these amusements,
proved too monotonous for his taste ; and at the
expiration of four months he disappeared, and
wandered among the Indians, visiting the Six Na-
tions, to the borders of Canada. During his ab-
sence of three and a half months, he acquired a
familiarity witli the language and habits of this
people which were of great service to him in his
future travels. He returned to college and quiet-
ly resumed his studies; in the depth of the follow-
ing winter he led a part)7 of his fellow students
through an untracked route to the summit of a
neighboring mountain, where they passed the
night, returning next day.

He seems to have gradually abandoned a mis-
sionary life ; and after passing a few months
more at college, determined to depart. "With the
aid of some of his friends, he cut down a large
tree, from which they fashioned a canoe three
feet wide and fifty long. On its completion, it
was launched in the Connecticut; and Ledyard,
having equipped himself with a bearskin and pro-
visions, started to descend a river, of which he
knew little or nothing beyond its general course.
He floated along witli the stream, stopping only
at night, and was busily engaged in reading one

* Art. Madison. Enc. Amer. Ait. Madisnn and the Madison
Papers. Dem. Review, Mareh, 1S39. Benton's Thirty Years
in U. S. Senate, i. 078.

of the two books, the Greek Testament and Ovid,
he had provided himself with, when he was arous-
ed by the sound of the rushing water at Bellows'
Falls. ■ He narrowly escaped destruction, but suc-
ceeded in pushing his canoe to the shore, where
it was drawn round to the stream below by the
oxen of the neighbors, who naturally took an in-
terest in his adventurous course. He soon after
astonished his friends by appearing at Hartford,
having accomplished his dangerous voyage in safe-
ty. A correspondence followed with Dr. Whee-
lock, who was justly displeased with his pupil's
vagaries. Ledyard adhered to his intention of
studying theology; and after a consultation with
the neighboring clergy, went to East Hampton,
where he passed a month " with intense applica-
tion to study"* under the care of the Rev. Dr.
Buell, a clergyman in high repute as a scholar and
orator; and afterwards travelled through Long
Island.* He finally presented himself as a candi-
date for ordination, and was rejected. He was
disheartened for a short time, but soon after en-
tered on a career for which he was much better
fitted by nature, embarking as a sailor at New
London in a vessel bound to Gibraltar. He was
missed on arriving at that port, and on inquiry
being made, found in full uniform in the ranks of
the British garrison. On being remonstrated
with, he consented to return if his release could
be procured. This was granted by the command-
ing officer, and Ledyard rejoined his ship. The
vessel touched at Barbary for a cargo of mules,
and returned home by way of the West Indies
about a year after her departure.

His next enterprise was to visit England in quest .
of certain wealthy relatives. He found the fami-
ly name oh a carriage, and made his way to its
owner's residence, lie was received by a son of
this gentleman with some distrust, as the latter
had never heard of any American kinsmen. Led-
yard's pride was hurt, and though afterwards in-
vited by the father, he would not avail himself of
any proffered kindness.

Again disappointed, lie looked about him for
employment; and joined the expedition which
was fitting out by Captain Cook, for his third
voyage. He entered the marine service, and was
appointed by Cook a corporal. In this humble
situation he accompanied the celebrated expedi-
tion, whose movements are weil known from the
widespread popularity of the " Voyages" which
bear the name of its commander.

Ledyard passed two years in England after the
return of the expedition, and then returned in a
British man-of-war to Huntington Bay, Long
Island Sound. He obtained seven days' leave of
absence, and proceeded to Southold, where he met
his mother.

" She kept," says his biographer, Sparks, " a
boarding-house, which was at that time occupied
chiefly by British officers. He rode up to the
door, alighted, went in, and asked if he could be
accommodated in her house as a lodger. She re-
plied that, he could, and showed him a room into
which his baggage was conveyed. After having
adjusted his dress, he came out and took a seat by
the fire, in company with several other officers.

* Letter by Ledyard, quoted by Sparks, Life, p. 24.

JOHN" LEDYARD.

325

without making himself known to his mother, or
entering into conversation with .any person. She
frequently passed and repassed through the room,
and her eye was observed to be attracted towards
him with more than usual attention. He still
remained silent. At last, after looking at him
steadily for some minutes, she deliberately put on
her spectacles, approached nearer to him, begging
his pardon for her rudeness, and telling him that
he so much resembled a son of hers, who had been
absent eight years, that she could not resist her
inclination to view him more closely. The scene
that followed may be imagined but not describ-
ed; for Ledyard had a tender heart, and affection
for his mother was among its deepest and most
constant emotions."

From Southold he removed to his old residence
with his uncle at Hartford, having taken an un-
ceremonious leave of the royal navy. Here he
prepared for the press his narrative of Cook's
Third Voyage,* availing himself freely of the
brief official account which had appeared in
England, in advance of the full reports.

He soon after visited Philadelphia, where ho
endeavored to set on foot a trading expedition
to the North Pacific coait of America. He had
touched at this region in his late expedition, and
become convinced of its advantages. His plan
was listened to with favor by Robert Morris, and
a ship engaged for the purpose, but obstacles
intervened. Morris finally lost patience, and
Ledyard went to Paris in the hope of there
accomplishing his plans. He crossed to Cadi?
and thence made his way to Brest, 'and by land
to L'Orient, where he passed the winter, the mer-
chants of the place promising to fit out an expedi-
tion in the spring. When the time came they
failed to do so, and Ledyard went to Paris. Here
he mat Jefferson, who took a great interest in his
project, foreseeing its ultimata importance to the
United States. Paul Jones also favored the
scheme, and a plan was arranged by winch that
gallant officer was to be placed in command of
two vessels to proceed to the coast, which at that
time had been visited only by Cook's expedition
and by the Russians, who had established a few
slight trading posts on the adjacent islands. The
Vessels were to collect furs, to be exchanged for
silks and teas in China, and return home by the
Caoe of Good Hope, Ledyard being left on the
Pacific to establish a trading depot, and eventually
to return home across the continent. The plan
was not attempted, and in pursuance of the same
idea he projected an overland journey through
the north of Europe and Asia to Behring's Straits.t

* Journal of Capt. Cook's last vovage. faithfully narrated
from the original manuscript of Mr. John Ledyard. Hartford,
17&3.

tin his autobiography, Jefferson speaks of Ledyard as "a
man of senilis, of some science, and of fearless courage and
enterprise." and says that after his failure to carry through his
scheme of a trading voyage to the North Pacific, he sug-
gested to him an overland journey through Siberia to Beh-
rings Straits, and thence across the continent to the United
Stat-s. He gave Ledvard a letter of introduction to La Fay-
ette, dated Paris, Feb. 9. 1780, in which he says:—

"He accompanied Captain Cook in his list vovage to the
northwestern parts of America, and rendered hifnseif nseful
to tint officer on some occasions bv a spirit of enterprise
which has distinguished his whole life. He has genius and
education better than the common, and a talent for useful and
interesting observation. I believe him to be an honest man,
and a man of truth. To all this he adds just as much singular-
ity of character, and of that particular kind too, as was neces.

After long and wearisome delays he was enabled
, by a subscription obtained in London by the aid
of Sir Joseph Banks and other friends, to start on
this journey. He crossed from London to Ham-
burgh in December, next, visited Copenhagen,
where he shared his remaining funds with a Ma-
jor Lnnghorn, a countryman, whom he endea-
voured to induce to join him in his Siberian tour.
Disappointed in this, the Major remarking, "I
esteem yon, but I can travel in the way I do,
with no man on earth,"* Ledyard started off
alone, and made his way round the Gulf of Bothnia
on foot, the state of the ice rendering it impossi-
ble to pass over in sledges or force- a passage in a
boat. He arrived at St. Petersburg seven weeks
after leaving Stockholm. Here lie waited for
some time for a passport. The Empress Catha-
rine was absent on her magnificent progress
through her dominions, and the traveller's peti-
tion seems never to have been presented to bot-
hy the French ambassador to whom it was in-
trusted. The document was finally obtained and
Ledyard departed. He travelled to Moscow, and
thence to Kazan, Tobolsk, and Barnaoul, a dis-
tance of three thousand miles, in company with a
Scotch physician in the employ of the Empress.
From thence he proceeded with the mail courier
to Irkutsk. Here he embarked with a Swedish
lieutenant on a voyage of fourteen hundred miles
down the river Lena to Yakutsk, their boat being
propelled by the current at the rate of eighty to a
hundred miles a day. He arrived at Yakutsk on
the 18th of September, where he endeavored to
obtain permission to push forward to Okotsk, but
this was refused on the plea that the season was
too far advanced. His journal at this period con-
tains the following passage : —

" What, alas, shall I do, for I am miserably pre-
pared for this unlocked for delay. By remaining
here through the winter, I cannot expect to resume
my march u.itil May, winch will be eight months.
My funds ! I have but two long frozen stages more,
and I shall be beyond the want, or aid of money,
until, emerging from the deep deserts, I gain the
American Atlantic States; and then, thy glowing
climates, Africa, explored, I will lay me down, and
claim my little portion of the globe I have viewed;
may it not be before. How many of the noble-
minded have been subsidiary to me, or to my enter-
prises ; yet that meagre demon, Poverty, lias tra-
velled with me hand in hand over half the globe,
and witnessed what — the tale I will not unfold!
Ye children of wealth and idleness, what a profitable
I commerce might be made between us. A little of
my toil might better brace your bodies, give spring
to mind and zest to enjoyment ; and a very little of
that wealth, which you scatter around you, would
put it beyond the powrer of anything but death to
oppose my kindred greetings with all on earth, that
bear the stamp of man. This is the third time, that
I have been overtaken and arrested by winter ; and

Fary to make him undertake the journey he proposes. Should
he got safe through it. I think' he will give an interesting
account of what be shall have seen."

* Lanchorn seems to have had a passion for travelling in out
of the way parts of the world. After parting with Ledyard ho
wandered over Sweden, Norway, and Lapland. Accrbi, in
1799, found the following entry in the travellers' book at
Tornea, which then contained but seven names — ''Justice bids
me record thv hospitable fame, and testify It by my name.
W. Lanfrtiorn, United States, July 23. 1787.'' Acerbi says ho
travelled on foot from Norway to Archangel. — Sparks's Lifo of
Ledyard, 183.

326

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

both the others, by giving time for my evil genius I
to rally his hosts about me, have defeated the enter- j
prise. Fortune, thou hast humbled me at last, for I
am this moment the slave of cowardly solicitude,
lest in the heart of this dread winter, there lurk the
seeds of disappointment to uiy ardent desire of gain-
ing the opposite continent. But t submit."

To avail himself of a companion, Captain Bil-
lings, employed by the Russian government on an
exploration of the Pacific coast, for his voyage in ,
the spring, he returned with that gentleman to
Irkutsk, the journey being made on the frozen
surface of the river. Here on the 24-th of Febru-
ar}', he was arrested and immediately hurried
pack over the long route which lie had travelled,
to Moscow, where he was examined on the pre- !
text that he was a French spy. He was forward-
ed on to the frontier of Poland, where his guards
took their leave with an intimation that if he
again set foot on Russian territory he would be
hanged.

He drew a small draft on his friend Sir Joseph
Banks, and was thus enabled to reach London,
where he called on Bank1;, from whom he learned
that the "African Association," formed for the
exploration of that country, were desirous of
sending a traveller on a tour of discovery. Banks
gave him a letter to the secretary of the company,
to whom Ledyard expressed his great desire to
receive the proposed appointment. On being
asked when he would set out, he replied, " To-
morrow."

He was equipped in a few weeks, and for the
first time properly backed by friends at home and
provided with means, set forth. He proceeded to
Cairo, and was just about starting on the adven-
turous portion of his journey when he was at-
tacked by a bilious complaint, caused by exposure
to the sun. He took a large and, as it proved,
over dose of vitriolic acid to remove the disorder.
An antidote was administered, but without effect,
and he soon breathed his last, in November, 1788.

Ledyard kept a brief journal of a portion of his
travels. Extracts from this and from Ids letters
to Jefferson and others, forming with his account
of Cook's voyage the whole of his literary pro-
ductions, are given in the Life published by Jared
Sparks in 1S2S*

The short passage which has done most for the
popular reputation of Ledyard, his eulogy on
woman, occurs in his Siberian journal, and was
first published in a eulogy printed in the Transac-
tions of the African Society, by Mr. Beaufoy, the
secretary, shortly after Ledyard's death.

" I have observed among all nations, that the wo-
men ornament themselves more than the men ; that,
wherever found, they are the same kind, civil, oblig-
ing, humane, tender beings; that they are ever in-
clined to be gay and cheerful, timorous and modest.
They do not hesitate, like man, to perform a hospi-
table or generous action : not haughty, nor arrogant,

* An advertisement in Freneau's Time-Piece, New York,
March 16, 17''?, announces a contemplated publication of " The
Interesting Travels of John Ledyard, with a summary of his
Life,'' and proposes a subscription. The Ltproposals" state that
the work is to be printed on fine paper, "With a full length
portrait of the Author, in the attitude of taking leave, on
his departure for Africa," that it was to form a volume of from
four to five hundred pages, and the price to subscribers to be
two dollars a volume. No publisher's name is appended.

nor supercilious, but full of courtesy and fond of so-
ciety ; industrious, economical, ingenuous ; more
liable in general to err than man, but in general, also,
more virtuous, and performing more good actions
than he. I never addressed myself in the laLguage
of decency and friendship to a woman, whether civi-
lized or savage, without receiving a decent and
friendly answer. With man it has often been other-
wise. In wandering over the barren plains of inhos-
pitable Denmark, through honest Sweden, fiozen
Lapland, rude and churlish Finland, unprincipled
Russia, and the wide-spread regions of the wander-
ing Tartar, if hungry, dry, cold, wet, or sick, wo-
man has ever been friendly to me, and uniformly -so ;
and to add to this virtue, so worthy of the appella-
tion of benevolence, these actions have been per-
formed in so free and so kind a manner, that, if I wa»
dry, I drank the sweet draught, and, if hungry, ate
the coarse morsel, with a double relish."

WILLIAM LINN.

The grandfather of the Rev. William Linn was
an emigrant from Ireland, who built himself a
cabin near Shippensburgh, Pennsylvania, and
lived there in the wilderness, to the extraordinary
age of over one hundred V'ears. The eldest son
of the eldest son of this veteran was born in 1752.
At an early age he married the third daughter of
the Rev. John Blair ; he was graduated at the col-
lege of New Jersey in 1772, and was ordained a
Presbyterian minister, officiating during the Re-
volutionary War as a chaplain of the American
army. Soon after the peace he joined the Dutch
Reformed denomination, and became one of the
ministers of the Collegiate churches in the city

of New York. He enjoyed a high reputation as
a pulriit orator. Y\"ansey, an English traveller,
who visited New York in 1794, speaks of going
to hear him preach on a Sunday afternoon, as
one of the noteworthy occurrences of his visit.
He describes the sermon as extempore, but the
clergyman probably pursued on the occasion
his usual method of committing his discourse to
memory, and repeating it without having the
manuscript before him. His delivery was very
emphatic, and his gesticulation often violent. He
was in great demand on charitable and public
occasions, and a number of his sermons of this
description were printed. In addition to these,
he published, in 1791, a volume of Discourses on
the leading jicrsonages of Scripture History ; and
in 1794, a series on The Signs of the Times, the
delivery of which had excited great interest and
much opposition among a certain class, owing to
the strong ground taken in them in favor of the
French Revolution, a movement of which the
Doctor was a warm partisan, until it became
identified with infidelity and anarchy. His ser-
mon on the blessings of America, before the
Tammany Society, preached in the Middle Dutch
Church, on the 4th of July, 1791, expresses the
same views. In it, after claiming with Mr. Jef-
ferson, that " making due allowance for our age
and numbers, we have produced as many emi-

PHILIP FIIENEAU.

327

nent men as fall to our share ;" and invoking the
patriotism of the country, he plunges into an
attack on the foes of liberty, Edmund Burke in
particular, and a glorification of the French Re-
volution. " May we not indulge the pleasing
thought, that the time is not far distant, when
tyranny everywhere shall be destroyed; when
mankind shall be the slaves of monsters and
idiots no more, but recover the true dignity of
their nature ! The cause of liberty is continually
gathering strength. The advocates of despotic
rule must fail. The British orator, though he
sublimely rave, he raves in vain. No force of
getaus, no brilliancy of fancy, and no ornament
of language can support his wretched cause. He
and his abettors only hasten its downfall. The
Revolution in France is great, is astonishing, is
glorious. It is, perhaps, not just to say, that
the iiame was kindled by us, but certainly we
continued to blow and increase it, as France will
in other nations, until blaze joining blaze, shall
illumine the darkest and remotest corners of the
earth." On the same occasion an ode was sung,
composed by Dr. William Pitt Smith, with the
line —

To God, Columbia's King, we homage pay.

In his preface to his Sermon on National Sins,
delivered May 9, 1798, the day recommended by
the President of the United States to be observed
as a day of General Fast (T. & J. Swords, 1798),
he says of his sermons on the " Signs of the
Times :" — ■" If, in prosecuting my main object, I
expressed sanguine expectations from the Revolu-
tion in France, both as to herself and to the
world, thousands in all countries, at the time,
entertained the same, and have been equally dis-
appointed. If the French nation have departed
from their original principles, I am not obliged to
follow them. I will be no advocate for enor-
mities unequalled in the annals of mankind ;
for principles which subvert all religion, morality,
and order, and which threaten to involve us,
with the whole human race, in the utmost con-
fusion and misery."

His Funeral Sermon on the Death of "Wash-
ington was printed in 1800. He was shortly
after compelled to give up his clerical charge in
consequence of ill health, and retired to Albany,
where he died in January, 1808, in the fifty-fifth
year of his age. His sermons are plainly written,
tut concise, and often forcible in expression. He
left a daughter, who gave indications of poetical
ability, but died at an early age. Another
daughter married Charles Brockden Brown, and
a third Simeon De Witt.

WASHINGTON.*

"There was in him that assemblage of qualities
which constitutes real greatness ; and these qualities
were remarkably adapted to the conspicuous part
which he was called to perform. He was not tinsel,
but gold ; not a pebble, but a diamond ; not a me-
teor, but a sun. Were he compared with the sages

*From a Funeral Eulogy, occasioned by the death oi' General
Washington, delivered February 22d, 1800. before the New
York State Society of the Cincinnati. Bv William Linn, D.D.
New York: Muted by Isaac Collins, No. 189 Pearl street.
pp. 44.

and the Neroes of antiquity, he would gain by the
comparison, or rather, he would be found to be free
from the blemishes, and to unite the excellencies of
them all. Like Fabius, he was prudent ; like Han-
nibal, he was unappalled by difficulties ; like Cyrus,
he conciliated affection ; like Cimon, he was frugal ;
like Philopemon, he was humble ; and like Pompey,
he was successful. If we compare him with charac-
ters in the Sacred Records, he combined the exploits
of Moses and Joshua, not only by conducting us
safely across the Red Sea, and through the wilder-
ness, but by bringing us into the promised land ;
like David, he conquered an insulting Goliath, and
rose to the highest honors from an humble station;
like Hezekiah he ruled ; and like Josiah at his death,
there is a mourning " as the mourning of Hadad-
ritnmon, in the valley of Megiddon." Nor is the
mourning confined to us, but extends to all the wise
and good who ever heard of his name. The Gene-
rals whom he opposed will wrap their hilts in black,
and stern Cornwallis drop a tear.

He was honored even in death. After all his fa-
tigues, and though he had arrived near to the limit
fixed for human life, yet his understanding was not
impaired, nor his frame wasted by any lingering
disease. We did not hear of his siekuess until we
heard that he was no more.

PHILIP FF.ENEATJ.

Freneac, the popular political versifier of the
days of the Revolution, the newspaper advocate
of the republican party afterwards, and a true
poet in Iris best moments, was born in New York,
in Frankfort street, Jan. 2, 1752, of a family
which hud emigrated from France on the Revo-
cation of the Edict of Nantes. His ancestors bad
been among the founders of the St. Esprit Church,
in Pine street, New York. The house from which
his grandfather was buried, was formerly pointed
out in Hanover square* In 1771, we find Philip
Freneau a graduate of the College of New Jersey,
in the same class with Madison, the future Presi-
dent, with whom ho was on terms of close inti-
macy, and associated with Brackenridge iD the
composition and delivery of a Commencement
poem on the Mining (flory of America^ Freneau's
portion of which is included in two of the editions
of his writings. It is animated and vigorous in
description and sentiment. A line in his picture
of a supposed settlement of the western conti-
nent by a stray ship of the Carthaginians, is
poetic : —

In the course of long revolving yeai'9

A numerous progeny from these arose,

And spread throughout the coasts — those whom we

call
Brazibans, Mexicans, Peruvians rich,
The tribes of Chili, I'atagon, and those
Who till the shores of Amazons long stream.

There is a pleasing sketch of rural life in this
production, with other proof that though a youth-
ful poem, it contained something more than the
required declamation for the hour.

We next hear of Freneau as a victim in the
fortunes of the Revolution. He was taken pri-
soner by the British, and condemned to the bar-
barities of the prison-ship at New York, a treat-

* A brief notice of Frencan, attributed to John Pintard, in
the New York Mirror, Jan. 12, 1S33.
t Ante, p. 2S9.

328

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

merit -which he did not forget in his Cantos from
a Prison- Ship. These are dated in 1780, and
celebrate his capture on the coast of Delaware, in
a vessel, gallantly described, in which he was
sailing to St. Eustatia, by a British frigate, which
carried him to NeW York.* Here he speedily
made the intimate acquaintanceship of the Scor-
pion, moored on the Hudson, whose "mountain
stream'' sent no cooling breath to the victims in
their ghastly dungeons.

O'er distant streams appenrs the dewy green,
And leafy trees on mountain tops are seen,
But they no groves nor grassy mountains tread,
Mark'd for a longer journey to the dead.

On the opposite side of the island was stationed
the Hunter hospital ship, " a slaughter-house,
yet hospital in name," where a Hessian doctor,
remarkable for his stupidity, visited the fever-
stricken prisoners.

Some with his pills he sent to Pluto's reign,
And some he blister' d with his flies of Spain ;

On our lost comrades built his future fame,
And scatter'd fate where'er his footsteps came.

"When the merciful angel death came, the pri-
soners were buried on the shore, and the poet
invokes the tenderness of posterity for their
graves; an appeal not now out of place, when
"sapient trouble-tombs" would remove the fine
monument erecting in memory of these things
on Broadway, in the grave-yard of Trinity, where
others of these unfortunates lie buried.

When to your arms these fatal islands fall
(For first, or last, they must be conquei'd all),
Americans! to rites sepulchral just,
With gentlest footstep press this kindred dust,
And o'er the tombs, if tombs can then be found,
Place the green turf, and plant the myrtle round.

Some of Freneau's poems, according to the title-

Sage of the octavo edition, which he printed at
lonmouth, N. J., were written as early as 1768,
when he was in his seventeenth year. The Poeti-
cal History of the Prophet Jonah, written with
propriety and spirit, and the humorous tale of
The Village Merchant, bear that date. At what
time and In what way Freneau escaped from the
prison-ship, we are not informed ; hut. we may
gather some of his subsequent movements from
the dates of his poems and essays.

His prose sketches, The Philosopher of the
Forest, were first printed in the Freernan^s Jour-
nal of Philadelphia, in November, 1781.

In 1782, he pens at Philadelphia A Discourse
on Esquires, with a short Narrative of his Honor

* The British Prison-Ship, a Poem, in four Cartos, viz.: —
Canto 1. The Capture. 2. The Prison-ship. 3. The Prison-
Ship continued. 4. The Hospital Pn'son-Shiii — to which is
added a Poem on the Death of Capt. K. Biddle. Phila.: F.
Bailey. 17S1.

the President of the Bebtors1 Club, one of his
prose essays. In 1784, we have Lines Written
at Port Royal, in the Island of Jamaica, and
the next year some verses, The Departure, in
which he takes leave of the Hudson for a sea
voyage, from which we may infer that he had
already some pretensions to the title of Captain,
by which he was generally known in his later
days. His Journey from Philadelphia to New
York ly way of Burlington and South An.loy,
written in verse, shows an intimate acquaintance
with nautical slang. His New Year's Verses,
written for the Carriers of the Columbian Herald;
are dated Charleston, Jan., 1786. At one time
Philip Freneau commanded a vessel sailing out of
that port.

The first edition of Freneau's poems was in i
Philadelphia in 1786, The Poems of Philip Fre-
neau, written chiefly during the lute War: It is
very neatly printed, in a single duodecimo volume.
In 1788, a second volume followed, The Miscel-
laneous Worls of Mr. Philip Freneau, contain-
ing his Essays and Additional Poems, Philadel-
phia, printed by Francis Bailey, at Yorick's Head,
in Market street, a neat duodecimo volume of
429 pages, with an advertisement from the
printer : — " The following essays and poems,
selected from some printed and manuscript papers
of Mr. Freneau. are now presented to the pub-
lic of the United States, in hopes they will
prove at least equally acceptable with his\olume
of poems pulti-hed last year. Some few of the
pieces in this volume have heretofore appeared in
American newspapers; but through a fatality
not unusually attending publications of that kind,
are now, perhaps, forgotten ; and, at any time,
may possibly never have been seen, or attended
to, but by very few." This is the only volume
of Freneau's writings, in book form, which con-
tains any of his prose compositions. It was pub-
lished, as usual in those days even for small
duodecimo volumes, by subscription. De "Witt
| Clinton takes a copy in New York, and John Pin-
i tard subscribes for two. Some of Freneau's best
j pieces are in this volume : — The Pictures of
' Columbus, The Indian Student, The Indian
Burying Ground, The Man of Ninety, and that
delicate little poem May to April.

The prose essays are pleasant papers. They
are at once simple and elegant in style, indepen-
dent in thought, playful and humorous. They
were for the most part written with the signature
of Robert Slender, whom the author took the
liberty of burying, that he might publish his
manuscripts. The Adtice to Authors, with which
they open, is, with its playful irony, a fresh,
manly essay. These miscellaneous essays are all
clever productions. They are grouped in several
little collections, Tracts and Essays on Sexeial
Subjects, by Mr. Slender; Essays, lales, and
Poems, by Mr. Slender ; The Philosopher of
the Forest. They embrace the usual reper-
tory of the essayist, in description, apologue,
and gentle satire. One of these time-honored
inventions consecrated by Voltaire and Gold-
j smith, is an account of the Voyage of Timberoo-
tc/bo-cede, an Otaheite Indian, who visits foreign
countries at the command of his sovereign, and
reports on their absurdities on his return. A
paragraph will show its spirit, a corrective for

PHILIP FRENEAU.

329

hasty observation, •which may still be of service
to ethnologists : — " During the time ot eating, we
were encircled by a number of black people of
both sexes, who had green branches in their
hands, which we at first supposed were emble-
matical of peace and friendship, but, as we soon
after discovered, were only meant tu brush away
the flies from our victuals."

- The third publication of Freneau's writings
was made by himself at his press at Monmouth,
New Jersey, in 170o,* and is much the most
complete collection. It is an octavo volume of
four hundred and fifty-six pages, and contains
nearly three hundred articles in verse, in most of
the popular forms of composition, of description,
tale, satire, song, and epigram.

The next edition of the Poems, a revision of
the whole, was issued by subscription, in two
volumes, in Philadelphia, in 1809.+ Tbis con-
tained two translations from Ovid and Lucretius.

An author's advertisement appeals to the pub-
lic on patriotic grounds. The collection has been
mostly restricted to " Poems that arose from the
incidents of the American revolutionary content,
down to the date of 1793. These were intended,
in part, to expose to vice and treason, their own
hideous deformity; to depict virtue, honour, and
patriotism in their native beauty. To his coun-
trymen, the real Patriotic Americans, the Revo-
lutionary Republicans, ami the rising generation
who are* attached to their sentiments and princi-
ples, the writer hopes this collection will not
prove unacceptable." In 1815, a fourth publica-
tion appeared, from the press of Long worth of

•POEMS
Weitten between the Yeabs 17GS & 1794,

B V

PHILIP FRENEAU,

O F
NEW JERSEY.

A New Edition, Revised and Corrected by the

Autuoe; Including a considerable number of
Pieces never before published.

Audax inde aohora eteVoA e pluribus unum.
Ardua pyramidos tollls ad a-ttra caput.

page 435.

MO N MO U T II

[N. J.]

P R IKIB D

At tbc Press of the Author, at Mount-Pleasant, near

MIDDLETOWN-POINT ; M.DCC.XCV : and, of

— American Independence —

XIX.

+ Pooms Written and Published during the American Revo-
lutionary War, and now Republished from the Original
Manuscripts; interspersed with Translations from the An-
cients, and other Pieces not heretofore in print. By Philip
Freneau.

-Justly to record the deeds of fame.

A musefrom heaven should touch the soul with flame;

Some powerful spirit in superior luys

Should tell the conflicts of the stormy days.

The third edition, in two volumes. Phila., from the press of
tydia R. Bailey, No. 1:) North Alley, 18C9.

New York, in two duodecimo volumes, A Col-
lection of Poems, on American Affairs, and a
variety of other subjects, chiefly Moral and Poli-
tical; written between the year 1797 and the
present time. The title-page appeals to the war
feeling of the period.

Then England come! — a sense of wrong requires
To meet with thirteen stars your thousand fires :
Through these stern times the conflict to maintain,
Or drown them, witli year commerce, in the main.

The contents show (hat Freneau had lost no-
thing of his national ardor with age. He is still
sensitive to the feelings of the times, and cele-
brates most passing themes, from the death of a
Russian Empress to the rebuilding of Nassau
Hull, and tho city encroachments on the Hudson
River. Tho military events of the war are his
special care, as ho devotes himself to the denun-
ciation of the foe and the encouragement of his
countrymen, frequently mingling with his higher
themes the humorous incidents of the camp.

A largo portion of Freneau's occupations must
be looked for in his employments upon the press.

In 1701, Freneau edited the National Gazette, in
Philadelphia, a journal supported in opposition
to Pcnno's Gaze'te, under the alleged influence
of Hamilton. At the same time, Jefferson, 11-en
Secretary of State, gave him a post in his office,
of translating clerk. Hamilton did not relish the
attacks of Freneau in his paper, which he described
as "i ntem peratel}- devoted to the abuse of the
government, and all the conspicuous actors in.it,
except the Secretary of State and his coadjutors,
who were tho constant theme of its panegyric,"
and commented strongly upon the impropriety of
Jefferson's official support of the editor, in a
series of political, assaults, signed An American,
and contributed to the Gazette of the United
States, in August, 1792. The articles are pub-
lished in the Hamilton Correspondence. From
these it appears that "Mr. Freneau, before he
came to Philadelphia to conduct the National
Gazette, was employed by Childs & Sprague,
printers of the Daily Advertiser in New York, in
the capacity of editor or snperintendant," and
that the first number of the National Gazette
appeared under his direction Oct. 31, 1791. The
New York Daily Advertiser of Oct. 2t> had tho
announcement : " We hear from Philadelphia
that the Hon. Thomas Jefferson, Esq., Secretary
of State for the United States, has appointed
Captain Philip Freneau interpreter of the French
language for the Department of State." On these
facts, and some hearsay evidence, which failed to
be substantiated, Hamilton made his charge uppn
Jefferson of c uitrolling the paper, and using the
patronage of his office for the support of its editor.
Jefferson, in a letter to Washington, dated Sept.
9, 1792, disposes of this matter. While tho
government, says he, was at New York, he was
appealed to on behalf of Freneau, to know if there
was any place within his department to which lie
could be appointed. There was no vacancy, but
when tho removal to Philadelphia took place,
Mr. Pintard, the translating clerk, did not
choose to follow, so Freneau succeeded him,
I with a salary of two hundred and fifty dollars
per annum. As for the connexion with the
paper, Jefferson said he gave Freneau tho prefer-

330

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

ence for the office " as a man' of genius," as he l>ad
recommended Eittenhouse, Barlow, and others, to
Washington ; that he was anxious that the material
parts of the Ley den Gazette should be republished ;
and as" Freneau's newspaper arrangements ottered
facilities for the publication, he gave them to him ;
that he had procured subscriptions for his paper,
and in advance, but that he had never written or
dictated, or been instrumental in furnishing aline
for the journal.*

' On occasion of the great entertainment given
to Genet, in Philadelphia, in 1793, after his muti-
lated reception by the President, citizen Freneau
was present, and was requested to translate the
French ode written by Duponceau, the singing of
which was one of the items of this extraordinary
festivity. Freneau was a great advocate of France
through this period, and annoyed Washington by
liis assaults on the administration. There was
" that rascal Freneau," said he, " sent him three
of his papers every day, as if he would become
the distributor of them, an act in which he could
see nothing but an impudent design to insult
him."t

A series of Probationary Odes, by Jonathan
Pindar, Esq., a cousin of Peter's, and candidate
for the post of Poet Laureat, published in the
Gazette for 1793, were probably written by
Freneau. Adams, Knox, Hamilton, and others,
are satirized, and there are seven stanzas of advice
" to a truly Great Man," George Washington,
touching the establishment of banks.

TO A TEULY CHEAT MAN.

"Jiistiim et tcnaceni propositivirum." — Hor.

George, on thy virtues often have I dwelt ;

And still the theme is grateful to mine ear ;
Thy gold let chemists ten times c-ver melt,

From dross and base alloy they'll find it clear.

Yet thou'rt a man — although, perhaps, the first ;

But man at best is but a being frail ;
And since with error human nature's curst,

I marvel not that thou shouldst sometimes fail.

That thou hast long and nobly served the state,
The nation oimis, and freely gives thee thanks:

But Sir! — whatever speculators prate,

She gave thee not the power to establish Banks.

No doubt thou thought'st it. was a phenix nest,
"Which Congress were so busy to build up :

But there a crocodile had fixed his rest,
And snapped the nation's bowels at a sup.

The greedy monster is not yet half cloyed,
Nor will be, whilst a leg or arm remains ;

Those parts the last of all should be destroyed ;
The next delicious morsel is her brains.

I trust thou'st seen the monster by this time,
And hast prepared thy knife to cut his throat;

His scales are so damned hard, that in thy prime,
"fwould take thee twenty years to make it out.

God grant thee life to do it: — Fare thee well !
Another time examine well the nest;

* Hamilton's Works, iv. Son.

t May 23, 1793. "Washington adverted to a piece in Freneau's
paper of yesterday. His paper lias saved our constitution,
which was galloping fast into monarchy, and has heen checked
by no one means so powerfully as by that paper. It is well
and universally known that it has heen that paper which lias
cheeked the career of the uiouocrats."— Jefferson's Ana, Works,
iv. 466, 401, Ed. 1830.

Though of Arabia's spices it should smell
It may produce some foul internal pest.

These were the verses on John Adams : —

TO A WOULD-BE GREAT MAN.

Jonathan defendeth the Giieat Defender; mngni-
fieth and exalteth his works ; and eonfesseth his
own littleness of understanding.
" Certat tergeminis tollere honoribus." — Hoh.

Daddy Vice, Daddy Vice,
One may see in a trice
The drift of your fine publication ;
As sure as a gun,
The thing was just done,
To secure you — a pretty high station.

Defences you call

To knock down our wall,
And batter the States to the ground, sir;

So thick were your shot,

And so hellish fire-hot,
They've scarce a whole bone to be found, sir —

When you tell us of kings,

And such pretty thiigs,
Good mercy ! how brilliant your page is 1

So bright in each line

I vow now you'll shine
Like — a glow-worm to all future ages.

When you handle your balance,

So vast are your talents,
Like Atlas your wonderful strength is^

You know every state

To a barley-corn weight,
For your steel-yard the continent length is.

On Davila's page

Your discourses so sage
Democralical numseulls bepuzzle,

With arguments tough

As white leather or buff,
The republican lull-dogs to muzzle.

'Tis labor in vain,

Your senses to strain
Cur brains any longer to muddle;

Like Colossus you stride

O'er our noddles so wide,
We look up like feogs in a puddle.*

The Gazette was published till the conclusion
of a second volume and the second vear, October
26, 1793.

Freneau had a genius for newspapers. At his
own press at Mount Pleasant, near Middletown
Point, May 2, 1795, "and of American Indepen-
dence xix.," as he adds, he published the first
number of his Jersey Chronicle, on eight small
quarto pages of the precise size of seven inches
by eight. His address "to the Public" is, as
usual, very neat,- — commencing with a motto from
Horace, in reference to his rural press — " Inter
sylvas Academi quajrere verum," and this an-
nouncement of the design : — " the editor in the
publication of this paper proposes among other
objects, to present his readers with a complete
history of the foreign and domestic events of the
times, together with such essays, remarks and
observations as shall tend to illustrate the politics,
or mark the general character of the age and

* These verses are quoted by Mr. J. T. Buckingham, in his
Specimens of Newspaper Literature. Art. National Gazette,
ii. 139, 140.

PHILH FRENEAU.

331

country in which we live." The paper is dated
" Mount-Pleasant, near Middlctown Point : — print-
ed by P. Frenean — by whom Advertisements,
Hand Bills, &c, are done at the shortest notice,
and on the most reasonable terms." With the
third number it grew in dimensions, and extended
to a third column in width. To the foreign af-
fairs and "American advices" were added the
essays entitled Tomo Cheeki and an occasional
poem — the Republican Genius of Europe, the
Rival Suitors for America. Apropos to the na-
tional anniversary of 1795 at Monmouth, he pub-
lishes one of the English songs of the day, this

HYMN TO LIBEETY.

God save the lights of man!
Give us a heart to scan

Blessings so dear:
Let them be spread around
Wherever man is found,
And with a welcome sound

Ravish each ear.

See. from the universe
Dai-kness and clouds disperse,

Mankind awake ;
Reason and truth appear,
Freedom advances near,
Muuarchs. with terror, hear —

See how they quake.

Long have we felt the stroke,
Long have we bore the yoke,

Sluggish and tame :
But now the lion roars
And a loud note he pours,
Spreading to distant shores

Liberty's fame.

Godlike and great the strife,
Life will, indeed, be life

When we prevail.
Death, in so just a cause,
Crown us with loud applause
And from tyrannic laws

Bid us — all hail !

O'er the Germanic powers
Big indignation lours

Ready to fall—
Let the rude savage host
Of their long numbers boast,
Freedom's almighty trust

Laughs at them all !

Fame, let thy trumpet sound —
Tell all the world around

Frenchmen are free!
Tell ribbons, crowns and stars,
Kings, traitors, troops and wars,
Plans, councils, plots and jars,

America's free.

t About the same time he announces the edition
of his poems of 1795, which he published at the
same press. With the fifty -second number at the
close of the year, April 30, 1796, Frenean winds up
the paper with a notice " to subscribers" stati ng that

in number one of the Jersey Chronicle the Editor
announced his intention of extending the publica-
tion beyond the first year, provided the attempt
should in the meantime be suitably encouraged and
found practicable. But the necessary number of
subscribers having not yet appeared, scarcely to
defray the expenses of the undertaking', notwith-
standing the very low rate (it was published at

twelve shillings per annum) at which it has been
offered, the editor with some regret declines a fur-
ther prosecution of Ids plan at this time. He em-
braces the present opportunity to return his sincere
thanks to such persons in this and the neighboring
counties as have favored 1dm with their subscrip-
tions; and have also by their punctuality in com-
plying with the terms originally proposed, thus far
enabled him to issue a free, independent and repub-
lican paper.

It is from some such printing-ofnc3 as that
which sent forth his Jersey Chronicle, that we
may fancy Frenean inditing his poem of the
Country Printer, a purely American description
of the village and associations of the place: the
arrival of the old-time coach, the odd farrago of
the editor's page, the office itself: —

Here lie the types, in curious order rang'd,
Ready alike to imprint your prose or ver^e ;
Ready to speak, their order only chang'd,
Creek-Indian lingo, Dutch or Highland Erse;
These types have printed Erskine's Gospel Treat,
Tom Durfey's songs, and Banyan's works, complete:

and the editor himself,— with something more
than a suggestion of Philip Freneau. The change
from the Srats House to Saratoga in the last
stanza which we quote is a powerful thrust of
satire.

He, ia his time, the patriot of his town,

"With press and pen attaek'd the royal side,

Did what he could to pull their Lioa down,

Clipp'd at his heard, and twitched his sacred hide,

Mimiek'd his roarings, trod upon his toes,

Pelted young whelps, and tweak'd the old one s nos'e.

Rous'd by his page, at church or court-house read,
From depths of woods the willing rustics ran,
Now by a priest, and now soins deaeon led.
With clubs and spits to guard the rights of man ;
Lads from the spade, the pick-axe, or the plough .
Marching afar to fight Burgoyne or Howe.

Where are they now? — the Village asks with grief,
What were their toils, their conquests, or their

gains? —
Perhaps, they near some State-House beg relief,
Perhaps, they sleep on Saratoga's plains ;
Doom'd not to live, their country to reproach
For seven-years' pay transferred to Mammon's coach.

Freneau was probably at .all times busy, more
or less, with the newspapers. His next impor-
tant venture of this kind was of a literary cha-
racter at New York.

The first number of his Time-Piece and Lite-
rary Companion was issued at New York, March
13, 1797. It was printed three times a week — on
Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings, in a
neat folio form, paged, at the price of thirty shil-
lings, New York currency, per annum. Its editor
seems to have formed a partnership in the print-
ing business, for the purpose of its publication,
''In order," he says, "to render this work the
more interesting and acceptable to the public at
large, in regard to neatness and elegance of
mechanical execution, the subscriber informs all
wdio have or may favor him with their names,
that he has associated himself as a partner in the
typographical line of business with Mr. Alexander
Menut, of that profession, some time since from
Canada, and who is become, and means to con-

332

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURK

tinue, a citizen of the United States." The pro-
posals signed by Freneau announce thenewpaper
as " intended for the diffusion of useful as well as
ornamental knowledge, news, and liberal amuse-
ment in general," and its editor pledges himself
to use his best endeavors to render the Time-
Piecc and Literary Companion, " a work of merit,
and as far as his exertions or abilities will permit,
worthy the patronage of the public." The pro-
mise was well fulfilled during the year or more of
Freneau's editorship. Sept. 15, 1797, with the
beginning of the second volume, the name of
M. L. Davis appears associated with Freneau
as the publisher, when the notice of the printer's)
partnership with Menut is dropped. Freneau
and Davis appear at the head of the paper till
No. 81, March 21, 1798, when the publishers are
changed to M. L. Davis &, Co. ; and with No.
118, June 15, 1798, R. Saunders appears for the
proprietors. Saunders disappears with No. 128,
Jul}' 9 of the same year, and the paper is pub-
lished for the proprietors at 25 Maiden Lane, at
least till No. 150, Aug. 30, 1798, where the file
closes in the rare volume preserved in the New
York Historical Society. The evidence of Fre-
neau's ability had departed from its columns some
time before. For along time, however, it wa*
admirably sustained by Freneau, whose tact at
administering to the tastes of the public was
shown in the skill of the selection and the general
elegance of the material. There were news of
the day carefully digested, biographies, corres-
pondence, anecdotes, and occasional poems ad
libitum. In the second number he commences a
translation of the travels of M. Abbe Kobin,
" Chaplain in Count Roohambeau's army, giv-
ing a general account of the progress of the
French army from Rhode Island, the place of
their landing, to Yorktown in Virginia; and of
some other occurrences." This, we are told, he

had made fourteen years before ; but as a.

all

edition was printed off, the work is now in the
hands of very few.* Freneau also republishes his
series of Tomo Chceli, the Creek Indian in Phi-
ladelphia, with this preliminary notice : " A num-
ber of eccentric writings under this title, and to
the amount of a considerable volume, are in the
hands of the editor of the Time-Piece, said to be
translated from one of the Indian languages of
this country. They were transmitted to him
more than two years ago, and a few numbers pub-
lished in a gazette, edited by him in a neighbor-
ing state ; but discontinued with that paper. If
the lucubrations of a rude aboriginal of America
shall appear to afford any gratification to the
generality of our readers, the whole will be occa-
sionally offered to the public through the medium
of the Time-Piece."1 The politics were republican
for both sides of the water. If Freneau was hard
pressed by an adversary, he could always bring
his muse to his aid as in this sharp hit at Cob-
bett, in the paper of Sept. 13, 1797, in reply to
"a despicable mess of scurrility in one of Porcu-
pine's Gazettes of last week, in which he men-
tions he was plagued with the Time-Piece for
several months," coupled with the explanation
that the Time-Piece had at first been sent to

: It woa printed at Philadelphia in 17S3.

Porcupine, according to editorial custom, " till
finding the hoggishness of the fellow, in not
consenting to an exchange, the transmission was
discontinued."*

From Penn's famous city what hosts have departed,
The streets and the houses are nearly deserted,

But still there remain!

Two Vipers, that's plain,
Who soon, it is thought, yellow flag will display ;

Old Porcupine preaching,

And Fenno beseeching
Some dung-cart to wheel him away.

Phibidelphians, we're sorry you suffer by fevers,
Or suffer such scullions to be your deceivers ;

Will Pitt's noisy whelp

With his red foxy scalp
Whom the kennels of London spew'd out in a fright,

Has sculk'd over here

To snuffle and sneer,
Like a puppy to snap, or a bull-dog to bite.

If cut from the gallows, or kiek'd from the post,
Such fellows as these are of England the boast,

But Columbia's disgrace!

Begone from that place
That was dignified once by a Franklin and Penn,

But infested by "you

And your damnable crew
Will soon be deserted by aU honest men.

Captain Freneau, having concluded his active
political career and' his voyages to Madeira' and
the West Indies, passed his latter days in New
Jersey, occasionally visiting New York, where he
saw his friends in the democratic ranks of the
day.

Of his associations at this time we have a
pleasing reminiscence in the following original
sketch, kindly written in answer to our inquiries
on the subject, by Dr. John W. Francis of New
York.

" To the young, the ingenuous, and the inquiring
the City of New York, some thirty or forty years
ago, presented an interest which we in vain look
for at the present day ; and consequently excited
emotions of patriotism and induced historical
research, by the accidental associations inherent in
the very character of the personages and occur-
rences of those remoter times. Our metropolis at
that period was enriched by the sojourn or tem-
porary presence of a large number of Ihose re-
nowned individuals who had labored in the ser-
vice of the revolutionary struggle, and who in
council and in the field had secured the triumphs
of those principles so early espoused by the
' Sons of Liberty.' The state at large had been
extensively the area of warfare; the deliberations
arising out of the adoption of the Constitution for
the Union, the master spirits engaged in that
responsible trust, all awakened deep interest in
New York. Much of what was then speculative
discussion has since become historical fact; and
the sires of those great actions, who presented
themselves at every corner of the streets, and in

* Cobbett pnbM hed his Peter Porcupine's Works, in 12
vols., in London, in 1801, including; selections from his Gazette,
and republications of various of his American political tracts,
with which, dtning his residence, he annoyed the Democrats
of America. His Porcupine's Gazette, a villanously printed
sheet bv the way. was issued at Philadelphia from the 4th
March, 1797, to Jan., 13C0.

PHILIP FRENEAU.

333

the social circles, now sleep the sleep ordained
to mortality. The national ballads and songs of
colonial strife, which were enriched with addi-
tional charms by the vocal displays of the very
actors of those scenes, may occasionally be recog-
nised in the Metrical Miscellany, or printed in the
Songster's Museum; but the echo of applauding
admirers which was consequent upon the melo-
dist's strains is not now to be heard. Even the
great Hamilton might have been joined in such a
confederacy; and I have listened to Gates, of
Saratoga, Ju similar efforts. In short our city
abounded with the heroes of revolutionary fame,
citizens, and natives of remote parts of the Union ;
add to all these the scores of old Tories, and the
multitudes of the once disaffected, who had es-
caped the trials of the revolutionary contest hy
the ingenuity of self-interest, and the sagacious
use of th'eir fiscal resources, and we have at least
one view of the diversified population of those
incipient days of the American Republic.

" It was natural that a participator in the occur-
rences of those times of trial consumed in the war
of Independence, who was an eye-witness to many
of the hardest impositions of that eventful period;
who had, moreover, borne a notable share of its
sufferings, who had felt the horrors of the Jersey
prison-ship, and had become intimate with that
glorious band of warriors and statesmen, should
desire in after times, when the fruits of peace were
secured, to renew the associations of past events,
recount the tale of patriotism, and find consolation
in the retrospect by converse among kindred
spirits.

" Philip Freneau was eminently a character who
would not heedlessly let pa^s such opportunities,
and we accordingly find him, when not engrossed
with oilier avocations, constantly associated with
those who gratified his most cherished sympathies
in his often repeated visits to New York. The
various editions of his poetical writings hear tes-
timony to his continued ardor as a cultivator of
the patriotic muse, and if we examine the pro-
ductions of the periodical press "e must be satis-
fied that he was comparatively in fferent to fame
in his selection, as many of his be; products are
to be found elsewhere than in his collections. An
unpretending popular weekly contains his beau-
tiful address to the Isle of Madeira; and in his
poem on the Carolinas he gives utterance to Ids
emotions on revisiting the scenes of his earlier
days with the warmth and tenderness of an en-
thusiast.

" It is chiefly hy the several dates of his nu-
merous productions that we are enabled to trace
his diversified employments and sojourns. As
a marine captain, he was employed for many
years subsequent to the publication of his large
octavo selection of 17'J5 until about the war of
1812.

" Freneau was widely known to a large circle of
our most prominent and patriotic New Yorkers.
His native city, with all his wanderings, was ever
uppermost in his mind and in his affections.
While in the employment of Jefferson, as a trans-
lator of languages in the department of state, upon
the organization of Congress, with Washington at
its head, he had the gratification of witnessing the
progress of improvement, and might have enjoyed
increased facilities had he not enlisted with an in-

discreet zeal as an advocate of the radical doc-
trines of the day. Freneau was, nevertheless, es-
teemed a true patriot; and his private worth, his
courteous manner, and his general bearing won
admiration with all parties. His pen was more
acrimonious than his heart. He was tolerant,
frank in expression, and not deficient in geniality.
He was highly cultivated in classical knowledge,
abounding in anecdotes of the revolutionary crisis,
and extensively acquainted with prominent cha-
racters.

" It were easy to record a long list of eminent
citizens who ever gave him a cordial welcome.
He was received with the warmest greetings by
the old soldier, Governor George Clinton. He,
also, in the intimacy of kindred feeling, found an
agreeable pastime with the learned Provoost, the
! first regularly consecrated Bishop of the American
' Protestant Episcopate, who himself had shoal-
1 dered a musket in the Revolution, and hence was
1 sometimes called the fighting bishop. They were
allied by classical tastes, a love of natural science,
I and ardor in the cause of liberty. With Gates
! he compared the achievements of Monmouth with
those at Saratoga. With Col. Fish he reviewed
the capture of Yorktown ; with Dr. Mitchill he re-
hearsed, from his own sad experience, the phy-
sical sufferings and various diseases of the incar-
cerated patriots of the Jersey prison-ship; and
descanted on Italian poetry and the piscatory ec-
logues of Sannazarins. He, doubtless, furnished
; Dr. Benjamin Dewitt with data for his funeral
I discourse on the remains of the 11,500 American
martyrs. With Pintard he could laud Horace
and talk largely of Paul Jones. With Major Fair-
I lie he discussed the tactics and chivalry of Baron
I Steuben. With Sylvanus Miller he compared notes
on the political clubs of IT'Jo -1810. He shared
; Paine's visions of an ideal democracy. With De-
| witt Clinton and Cadwallader D. Colden he debat-
ed the projects of internal improvement and arti-
ficial navigation, based on the famous precedent
of the Languedoc canal.

" I had, when very young, read the poetry of
Freneau, and as we instinctively become attached
to the writers who first captivate our imagin-
ations, it was with much zest that I formed a
personal acquaintance with the revolutionary bard.
He was at that time about seventy-six years old,
when he first introduced himself to me in my
library. I gave him an earnest welcome. He
was somewhat below the ordinary height; in
person thin yet muscular, with a firm step, though
a little inclined to stoop; his countenance wore
traces of care, yet lightened with intelligence as
he spoke; he was mild in enunciation, neither
rapid nor slow, but clear, distinct, and emphatic.
His forehead was rather beyond the medium ele-
vation, his eyes a dark grey, occupying a socket
deeper than common; his hair must have onco
been beautiful, it was now thinned and of an iron
grey. He was free of all ambitious displays ; his
habitual expression was pensive. His dress might
have passed for that of a farmer. New York, the
city of his birth, was his most interesting theme ;
his collegiate career with Madison, next. His
story of many of his occasional poems was quite
romantic. As he had at command types and a
printing-press, when an incident of moment in the
Revolution occurred, he would retire for composi>

334

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

tion, or find shelter under the shade of some tree,
indite his lyrics, repair to the press, set up his
types, and issue his productions. There was no
difficulty in versification with him. I told him
■what I Lad heard Jeffrey, the Scotch Reviewer, I
say of his writings, that the time would arrive
when his poetry, like that of Hudibras, would
command a commentator like Gray. On some j
of the occasions when Freneau honored me with
a visit, we had within our circle one of my earliest
friends, that rare Knickerbocker, Gulian C. Ver-
planck. I need not add that the charm of my
interview with the bard was heightened by the
rich funds of antiquarian lore possessed by the
latter.

" It is remarkable how tenaciously Freneau pre-
served the acquisitions of his early classical stu-
dies, notwithstanding he had for many years, in
the after portion of his life, been occupied in pur-
suits so entirely alien to books. There is no por-
trait of the patriot Freneau ; he always firmly
declined the painter's art, and would brook no
'counterfeit presentment.' "

Some time after the conclusion of the war of j
1S12, a number of Freneau's MS. poem-, of which j
he had many, were consumed by fire, in the
destruction of his house at Mount Pleasant.

That he was not indifferent to his reputation, !
the several collections of his writings prove, and
we learn from the venerable engraver on wood,
Alexander Anderson, that Freneau once applied
to him to calculate the cost of an illustrated
volume of the poems, which he found too great
for his purse.*

Freneau died Dec. 18, 1832.. The circum-
stances of his death were thus announced in the
Monmouth (Sew Jersey) Inquirer : — " Mr. Fre-
neau was in the village, and started, towards
evening, to go" home, about two miles. In attempt-
ing to go across he appears to have got lost and
mired in a bog meadow, where his lifeless corpse
was discovered yesterday morning. Captain
Freneau was a staunch "Whig in the time of the
Revolution, a good soldier, and a warm patriot.
The productions of his pen animated his country-
men in the darkest days of '76, and the effusions
of his muse cheered the desponding soldier as he
fought the battles of freedom."

The house which Freneau occupied at the time
of his death is still standing. It is about a mile
from Freehold. The house in which he lived
before he came to Freehold, and the old tavern
in which he and his club of friends met, are also
in existence at Middletowu Point.t

* Alexander Anderson, who still survives in a hale old age,
was born in April, 1775. near Peck Slip, in New York. He
studied medicine, and received his decree of Doctor of Medi-
cine from Columbia College, in 1790, delivering a dissertation j
on Chronic Mania upon the occasion. He preferred art to I
physic, and having already been a pupil of '• a universal
genius" of the times, John Roberts, entered upon the business
of wood-engraving. His copies of Bewick's engravings were
celebrated, and for the first quarter of the present century he
executed most of the better engravings then published, from the
illustrations for a Bible to the cuts of a primer and spelling-
book. His lights and shades were strongly marked, and he
worked with precision and effect. The collection of specimens
of his thousands of engravings in his scrap-books is a pleasing
and curious exhibition of the resources of booksellers in the
last generation. There is a notice of Anderson in Dunlnp's
Arte of Design, ii. p. 8, and his friend. Mr. Benson J. Lossing,
has recently paid him a handsome tribute in an article in the
Home Journal.

t The tavern has lately been repaired, and is now (1854) oc-
cupied as a private dwelling by Mr. Pittman, a dentist.

To this account of Freneau, we are enabled to
add a notice of his brother, who was settled in
South Carolina, at Charleston, from the pen of
Dr. Joseph Johnson, of that city.

" Peter Freneau was a younger brother of
Captain Philip Freneau. They were natives of
New Jersey ; but the first of their ancestors who
came to this part of the world, was called De
Fresneau, and settled in Connecticut, after effect-
ing his escape from the persecutions against the
Huguenots in France. In this province De Fres-
neau became the proprietor of a copper mine,
but being restrained by the Colonial Regulations
from smelting the ore, he shipped a load of it to
England, calculating on profitable returns. In
these expectations he was disappointed ; the ves-
sel was captured by a French cruiser ; the adven-
ture proved a total loss, and De Fresneau was so
much reduced that he could no longer work the
mine. By some means not well understood, this
property came into the possession of the State of
Connecticut, and became the site of their Peni-
tentiary. The excavations that had been made
for copper ore served extremely well for the
safe keeping of their convicts.

" After completing his education, Mr. Freneau
came to South Carolina, and soon attracted gene-
ral and favorable notice from those best qualified
for judging. He was elected Secretary of State,
and embraced the opportunity thus afforded for
securing to himself and Francis Bremar, the Sur-
veyor-General, grants for various tracts of land
then vacant. About the year 1795, he became
the editor and proprietor of the City Gazette, a
daily paper advocating the Democratic opinions
then prevailing in the South. He was associated
■with Paine, an experienced printer, who took
charge of that department, and the whole work
was so well conducted, that it soon secured the
patronage of the state and city governments. On
the election of Mr. Jefferson to the Presidency, in
1801, it also obtained that of the general govern-
ment* Mr. Freneau was particularly well quali-
fied for the office of editor to such a paper. He
was indefatigable in his studies and collections
of matter, his style of writing was clear, com-
prehensive, and decided in advancing his own
opinions, but always liberal and just to those who
thought?otherwise. Besides a due knowledge of
Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, he had acquired so
much of the French, Spanish, Portuguese, and
Italian languages, as enabled him to read, select,
and translate from such publications, what other
papers could not procure, and rendered the cir-
culation of his the more extensive; but he could
not converse in either of those languages.

" "SVhen Mr. Paine left the concern, the paper
began to decline, and Mr. Freneau unfortunately
engaged in some commercial adventures, that dis-
tracted his usual attention to the office. He be-
came involved in a variety of ways, and in 1810
sold out his whole interest in the City Gazette.

" In person Mr. Freneau was tall, but so well

* In an unpublished letter addressed to Peter Freneau,
dated Washington, May 20, 1SCS, Jefferson incloses " a small
parcel of Egyptian rice" for plantation in South Carolina, and
reviews closely the state of parties, stating the policv of the
administration on appointments, assigning to the federalists
their proportional share of them — communicating with Fre-
neau in confidential terms, and looking to him for a support
of the government policy.

PHILIP FilENEAU.

335

proportioned, that it was not remarked. His
features bore so strong a resemblance to those of
Charles James Fox, the celebrated English states-
man, that all were struck with the likeness who
had ever seen Mr. Fox, or compared his likeness
with Freneau.

" When Mr. Freneau parted with his interest
in the City Gazette, he endeavored to arrange his
intricate accounts and money concerns, but did
not succeed; he was still disappointed and ha-
rassed, lie then anxiously sought for retirement,
and having the lease of a saw-mill and cottage at
Pinckney's Ferry, he was tempted to visit them
early in October, 1813, before the autumnal
frosts had cleared the atmosphere of malaria. He
returned in good spirits, and apparently in good
health, but was attacked in a few days with the
bilious remittent, resulting from malaria, and
died on the tilth day of the disease, in the fifty-
seventh year of his age.

" Mr. Freneau was never married, he left no
relative except his brother Philip, and died insol-
vent."

The poems of Philip Freneau represent his
times, the war of wit and verse no less than of
sword and stratagem of the Revolution; and lie
superadds to this material a humorous, homely
simplicity peculiarly his own, in which he paints
the life of village rustics with their local manners
fresh about them, of days when tavern delights
were to be freely spoken of, before temperance
societies and Maine laws were thought of; when
men went to prison at the summons of inexorable
creditors, and when Connecticut deacons rushed
out of meeting to arrest and waylay the passing
Sunday traveller. When these humors of the day
were exhausted, and the impulses of patriotism
were gratified in song, when he had paid his re-
spects to Eivington and Hugh Gaine,* he solaced

* We have seen his treatment of Eivington {1111U, pp. 2S2, 8).
lie frequently employed his pen with Hugh Gaine's humors and
tergiversations. Hugh Gaine, a native of Ireland, commenced
the printing business in New York in 175 I. In 1752 he started
a newspaper. The New York Mercury, which appeared every
Monday. He soon after opened a book-store, with the sign of
the Bible and Crown, in Hanover square, which remained in
his hands for forty years — tiie crown, of course, disappearing
after the Revolution. On the approach of the British in 1770,
he removed his press to Newark, but soon after returned to
the city. His paper was discontinued on the departure of the
British. He received permission, on application to the legis-
lature, to remain in New York, where he continued until his
death, April 25, 18!j7, at the age of eighty-one. Dr. Francis, in
his paper on Christopher Colles, tells a story of Freneau meet-
ing Gaiae at his book-store : — " While on one of his visits at
Gaine's, a customer saluted him loudly by name, the sound of
which arrested the attention of the old Royalist, who, lift-
ing up his eyes, interrogated him — ' Is your name Freueau T
* Yes,1 answered the Republican poet. ' Philip Freneau ?'
rejoined Gaine. 'Yes, sir; the same.' 'Then, sir,1 warmly
uttered Gaine, 'you are a very clever fellow. Let me have
the pleasure of taking you by the hand. Will you walk round
the corner and join ine in our parlor? We will take aglass
of wine together. You, sir, have L'iven me and my paper
a wide ami lasting reputation.'11 There is a good story of
Gaine which we have never seen in print, showing his dis-
taste for Frenchmen, and the manner in which he was con-
founded witli a barber. On one occasion, when there was
a French frigate in the.Iuubor of New York, Huggins, the
barber, whose poetical advertisements contributed largely to
the small humors of his day, visited the vessel, and on tak-
ing leave, politely left his card wilh the officers, hoping for
the honor of a visit. &c. These gentlemen one day larided,
and making inquiry for Monsieur Hu-ganes — as they pro-
nounced the name — were directed to the old anti-Gallic book-
seller, who turned the tables upon them by a reference to
barber Huggins. Hugh Gaine was a pattern of old Dutch
steadiness, and would never give a note in payment. A wager
was once made that a note of hand would be got from him, —
aad gained by a very low otTer of goods on the condition of a

himself with higher themes, in the version of an
ode of Horace, a visionary meditation on the anti-
quities of America, or a sentimental effusion on the
loves of Sappho. These show the fine tact and
delicate handling of Freneau, who deserves much
more consideration in this respect from critics
than he has ever received. A writer from whom
the fastidious Campbell, in his best day, thought
it worth while to borrow an entire line, is worth
looking into. It is from his Indian Burying
Ground, the last image of that fine visionary
stanza : —

By midnight moons, o'er moistening dews,
In vestments for the chase array'd,
The hunter still the deer pursues,
The huuter and the deer — a shade.

Campbell has given the line a rich setting in the
''lovelorn fantasy" of C Conor's Child: —

Bright as the bow that spans the storm,

In Erin's yellow vesture clad,
A son of light — a lovely form,

He comes and makes her glad;
Now on the grass-green turf he sits,

His tassel'd horn beside him laid ;
Now o'er the hills in ehaee he flits,

The hunter and the deer a shade.

There is also a line of Sir Walter Scott which
has its prototype in Freneau. In the introduc-
tion to the third canto of JIarmion, in the apo-
strophe to the Duke of Brunswick, we read —

Lamented chief! — not thine the power
To save in that presumptuous hour,
When Prussia hurried to the field.
And snatch'd the spear but left the shield.

In Freneau's poem on the heroes of Eutaw, we
have this stanza : —

They saw their injur'd country's woe;

The flaming town, the wasted field ;
Then rushed to meet the insulting foe ;

They took the spear — but left the shield.

An anecdote, which the late Henry Brevoort
was accustomed to relate of hjs visit to Scott,
affords assurance that the poet was really indebted
to Freneau, and that lie would not, on a proper
occasion, have hesitated to acknowledge it. Mr.
Brevoort was asked by Scott respecting the auth< >r-
ship of certain verses on the battle of Entaw, which
he had seen in a magazine, and had by heart, and
which he knew were American. He was told
that they were by Freneau, when he remarked,
the poem is as fine a tiling as there is of the kind
in the language. Scott also praised one of the
Indian poems.

We might add to these instances, that in 1700,
Freneau, in his poetical correspondence between
Nanny the Philadelphia House-Keeper, and Nab-
by her friend in New York, upon the subject of
the removal of Congress to the former city, had
hit upon some of the peculiar pleasantry of
Moore's Epistles in verse of the present century.

Freneau surprises us often by his neatness of

note in payment; but the holder was knocked up after bed-
time by a visit from Hugh Gaine. He had brought the cash
with him and must have the note. He had never given one
before in his life, he said, and could not sleep with it on his
mind.

386

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

execution and skill in versification. He handles
a triple rhymed. stanza in the octosyllabic mea-
sure particularly well. His appreciation of nature
is tender and sympathetic, one of the pure springs
which fed the more boisterous current of his
humor when he came out among men to deal
with quackery, pretence, and injustice. But what
is perhaps most worthy of notice in Freneau is
his originality, the instinct with which his genius
marked out a path for itself in those days when
most writers were leaning upon the old foreign
school of Pope and Darwin. He was not afraid
of home things and incidents. Dealing with
facts and realities, and the life around him, wher-
ever lie was, his writings have still an interest
where the vague expressions of other poets are
forgotten. His poems may be little read now —
they are so rare that we have tasked the resources
of booksellers, and put friendship to the proof, to
draw together the several editions to prepare this
article — but they will be surely revived and che-
rished among the historic aud poetic literature
of the land. The tree which plants its roots most
firmly in the present, will survive the longest
with posterity. The genius which has no local
habitation for its muse, no personality or relation
to time and place to-day (and how much poetry
is there thrown upon the public which it is im-
possible to locate), will be, in sporting language,
nowhere to-morrow.

It is a little remarkable that four of the most
original writers whom the country has produced
have received the least attention from critics and
magazinists — Francis Ilopkinson, John Trumbull,
Brackenridge, and Freneau. In the very few
notices to be met with of the last, he is for the
most part mentioned in an apologetic tone — as if
he were a mere writer of doggrel, low in taste
and poor in expression. Even an admirer, who
compliments him in verse, has something of
this : —

Let Freneau live though Flattery's baleful tongue
Too early tuned his youthful lyre to song,
And ripe old age, in ill-directed zeal,
Has made an enervated last appeal :
His song could fire the sailor on the wave,
Raise up the coward, — animate the brave,
While wit and satire cast their darts around,
And fools and cowards tremble at the sound.
Although Ambition never soar'd to claim
The meed of polished verse, or classic fame,
And caustic critics honour, but condemn,
A strain of feeling, but a style too tame.
Let the old Bard, whose patriot voice has fann'd
The fire of Freedom that redeemed our land,
Live on the scroll with kindred names that swell
The page of history, where their honours dwell ;
With full applause, in honour to his age,
Dismiss the veteran poet from the stage, '
Crown his last exit with distinguished praise,
Aud kindly hide his baldness with his bays.*

How his contemporaries could sometimes ap-
preciate him, is shown in an epistle in Col.
Parke's volume of Horatian translations, and
other poems, published at Philadelphia in 1786.
In the rarity of these tributes, it is worth quot-
ing : —

• American Bards, Phila., 1820.

TO MR. PHILIP FRENEAU, OS HIS VOLUME OF EXCELLENT
POEMS, PRINTED BY ME. BAILEY.

" Difficile est aatiram non scribere.'"' — Juv.
Tho' I know not your person, I well know your

merit,
Your satires admire — your muse of true spirit;
Who reads them must smde at poetical story,
Except the k — g's printer, or some such like tory;
Sir William, Sir Harry, and would-be Sir John,
Cornwallis, the Devil, those bucks of the ton;
Black Dunrnore and Wallace with sun-setting-nose,
Who steals hogs and sheep, secure — under the Rose*
But a fig for the anger of such petty rogues,
To the devil we pitch them without shoes or

brogues!
Pythag'ras' choice scheme my belief now cou-

trouls, •

I sign to his creed — transmigration of souls;
Euphorbas's shield he no doubt did employ,
And bravely let blood on the plains of old Troy :
The souls of great Jlartb'ro' and warlike Eugene
Conspicuous in Washington's glory are seen :
Sage Plato beams wisdom from Franklin's rich

brain,
And sky-taught Sir Isaac is seen here again.
But Hugh when he migrates may daily be found
Cracking boues in a kitchen in form of a hound ;
When his compeer shall die — while no Christina

shall weep him,
Old Pluto, below, for a devil will keep him ;
Unless he's sent up on some hasty dispatch,
The Whigs to abuse, and more falsehoods to hatch.
Those red-jerkiu'd fops, whom your muse I've heard

sing, _ v

From Hounslow's bold heroes successively spring;
From Tyburn they tumble as supple as panders,
Then migrate straightway into knights and com-
manders.
But you, worthy poet, whose soul-cutting pen
In gall paints the crimes of all time-serving men,
The fiend of corruption, the wretch of an hour,
The star-garter'd villain, the scoundrel in pow'r ;
From souls far unlike may announce your ascension.
The patriot all-worthy, above bribe or pension,
The martyr who suffer'd for liberty's sake
Grim dungeons, more horrid than hell's bitter lake:
Your name to bright honour, the spirits shall hit,
That glow'd in the bosoms of Churchill and Swift.

And wdien you are number'd, alas! with the dead,
Your works by true wits will forever be read,
Who, pointing the finger, shall pensively show
The lines^that were written, alas! by Freneau.
Philadelphia, June 8, 1786.

It is not to be denied, however, that Frenean
was sometimes careless. He lived and thought
with improvidence. His jests are sometimes
misdirected; and his verses are unequal in exe-
cution. Yet it is not too much to predict that
through the genuine nature of some of his pro-
ductions, and the historic incidents of others,
all that he wrote will yet be called for, and
find favor in numerous popular editions.

ADVICE TO AUTnOES.

By the Late Mr. Robert Slender.

There are few writers of books in this new world,
and amongst these very few that deal in works of
imagination, and, I am sorry to say, fewer still that
have any success attending their lucubrations. Per-
haps, however, the world thinks justly on this sub-
ject. The productions of the most brilliant imagi-

* He commanded the Eose sIood.

PHILIP FKENEAU.

337

nation are at best but mere beautiful flowers, that
may amuse us in a walk through a garden in a fine
afternoon, but can by no means be expected to en-
gage much of that time -which God and nature de-
signed to be spent in very different employments.
Iq a country, which two hundred years ago was
peopled only by savages, and where the government
has ever, in effect, since the first establishment of the
white men in these parts, been no other than repub-
lican, it is really wonderful there should be any polite
original authors at all in any line, especially when it
is considered, that according to the common course
of things, any particular nation or people must have
arrived to, or rather passed, their meridian of opu-
lence and refinement, before they consider the pro-
fessors of the fine arts in any other light than a nui-
sance to the community. This is evidently the case
at present iu our age and country ; all you have to
do then, my good friends, is to graft your authorship
upon some other calling, or support di'ooping genius
by the assistance of some mechanical employment,
in the same manner as the helpless ivy takes hold of
the vigorous oak, and cleaves to it for support — I
mean to say, in plain language, that you may make
something by weaving garters, or mending old sails,
when an Epic poem would be your utter destruc-
tion.

But I see no reason that, because we are all striv-
ing to live by the same i>!le trade, we should suffer
ourselves to be imbittered against each other, like a
fraternity of rival mechanics in the same street.
Authors (such I mean as are not possessed of for-
tunes) are at present considered as the dregs of the
community: their situation and prospects are truly
humiliating, and any other set of men in a similar
state of calamitous adversity would unite together
for their mutual defence, instead of worrying and
lampooning each other for the amusement of the
illiberal vulgar. And I cannot do otherwise than
freely declare, that where the whole profits of a
company amount to little or nothing at all, there
ought not, in the nature of things, to be any quar-
relling about shares and dividends.

As to those authors who have lately exported
themselves from Britain and Ireland, and boast that
they have introduced the Muses among us 6ince the
conclusion of the late war, I really believe them to
be a very good-natured set of gentlemen, notwith-
standing they, in the course of the last winter, called
me poetaster and scribbler, and some other names
still more unsavoury. They are, however, excuse-
able in treating the American authors as inferiors;
a political and a literary independence oftheirnation
being two very different things; the first was ac-
complished in about seven years, the latter will not
be completely effected, perhaps, in as many centu-
ries. It is my opinion, nevertheless, that a duty
ought to be laid upon all important authors, the nett
proceeds of which should be appropriated to the be-
nefit of real American writers, when become old and
helpless, and no longer able to wield the pen to ad-
vantage.

If a coach or a chariot constructed in Britain, pays
an impost of twenty pounds at the custom-house,
why should not at least twice that sum be laid upon
all imported authors who are able to do twice as
much mischief with their rumbling pindarie odes,
and gorgeous apparatus of strophes, antistrophes,
and recitativos ? I, for my own part, am clearly of
opinion, that these gentlemen should be taxed ; not
that I would wish to nip their buds of beauty with
the untimely frost of excise, but merely to teach
them that our own natural manufactures ought to
be primarily attended to and encouraged.

I will now, gentlemen, with your leave, lay down

vol. I.— 22

a few simple rules, to which, in my opinion, every
genuine author will make no difficulty to conform.

1. "When you write a book for the public, have
nothing to do with Epistles dedicatory. They were
first invented by slaves, and have been continued by
fools and sycophants. I would not give a farthing
more for a book on account of its being patronized
by all the noblemen or crowned heads in Christen-
dom. If it does not possess intrinsic merit enough
to protect itself, and force its way through the
world, their supposed protection will be of no avail:
besides, by this ridiculous practice you degrade the
dignity authorial, the honor of authorship, which
ought evermore to be uppermost in your thoughts.
The silly unthinking author addresses a great man
in the style of a servile dependent, whereas a real
author, and a man of true genius, has upon all occa-
sions a bold, disinterested, and daring confidence in
himself, and considers the common cant of adulation
to the sons of fortune as the basest and most abomi-
nable of all prostitution.

2. Be particularly careful to avoid all connexion
with doctors of law and divinity, masters of arts,
professors of colleges, and in general all those that
wear square black caps. A mere scholar and an
original author are two animals as different from
each other as a fresh and salt water sailor. There
has been an old rooted enmity between them from
the earliest ages, and which it is likely will for ever
continue. The scholar is not unlike that piddling
orator, who, eold and inanimate, not roused into ac-
tion by the impelling flame of inspiration, can only
pronounce the oration he has learned by rote ; the
real author, on the contrary, is the nervous Demos-
thenes, who stored with an immensity of ideas, awa-
kened within him he knows not how, has them at
command upon every occasion; and must therefore
be disregarded as a madman or an enthusiast by the
narrow and limited capacity, as well as the natural
self-sufficiency of the other.

3. It is risking a great deal to propose a sub-
scription for an original work. The world will bo
ready enough to anticipate your best endeavours ;
and that which has been long and anxiously ex-
pected, rarely or never comes up to their expecta-
tions at last.

i. If you are so poor that you are compelled to
live in some miserable garret or cottage ; do not
Repine, but give thanks to heaven that you are not
forced to pass your life iu a tub, as was the fate of
Diogenes of old. Few authors in any country are
rich, because a man must first be reduced to a state
of penury before he will commence author. Being
poor therefore in externals, take care, gentlemen,
that you say or do nothing that may argue a po-
verty of spirit. Riches, we have often heard, are by
no means the standard of the value of a man. Tins
maxim the world allows to be true, and yet contra-
dicts it every hour and minute in the year. For-
tune most commonly bestows wealth and abundance
upon fools and idiots ; and men of the dullest natu-
ral parts are, notwithstanding, generally best calcu-
lated to acquire large estates, and hoard up immense
sums from small beginnings.

5. Never borrow money of any man, for if you

i should once be mean enough to fall intosuch a habit,
you will find yourselves unwelcome giiests every

j where. If upon actual trial you are at length con-
vinced you possess no abilities that will command ■
the esteem, veneration, or gratitude of mankind,
apply yourselves without loss of time to some of the
lower arts, since it is far more honourable to be a

I good bricklayer or a skilful weaver than an indiffer-
ent poet. If you cannot at all exist without now
and then gratifying your itch for scribbling, follow

338

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

my example who can both weave stockings and
write poems. But, if you really possess that spright-
liness of fancy and elevation of soul which alone
constitute an author, do not on that account be
troublesome to your friends. A little reflection will

Eoint out other means to extract money from the
ands and pockets of your fellow citizens than by
poorly borrowing what, perhaps, you will never be
able to repay.

6. Never engage in any business as an inferior or
understrapper. I cannot endure to see an author
debase his profession so far as to submit to be second
or third in any office or emploj'ment whatever. If
fortune, or the ill taste of the public, compels you
even to turn shallopmau on the Delaware, let it be
your first care to have the command of the boat.
Beggary itself, with all its hideous apparatus of rags
and misery, becomes at once respectable whenever it
exhibits the least token of independence of spirit and
a single spark of laudable ambition.

1. If you are in low circumstances, do not forget
that there is such a thing in the world as a decent
pride. They are only cowards and miscreants that
poverty can render servile in their behaviour. Your
naughtiness should always rise in proportion to the
wretchedness and desperation of your circumstances.
If you have only a single guinea in the world be
complaisant and obliging to everyone: if you are
absolutely destitute of a shilling, immediately assume
the air of a despot, pull off your hat to no one, let
your discourse, in every company, turn upon the
vanity of riches, the insignificancy of the great men
of the earth, the revolution of empires, and the final
consummation of all things. By such means you
will at least conceal a secret of some importance to
yourself — that you have not a shilling in the world
to pay for your last night's lodging.

8. Should you ever be prevailed upon to dedicate
your book to any great man or woman, consider
first, whether the tenor and subject of it be such as
may in some measure coincide with the age, temper,
education, business, and general conversation of the
person whose patronage is requested. A friend of
mine once committed a great error on this score,
lie wrote a bawd}' poem, and dedicated it to the
principal in the department of finance.

9. Never make a present of your works to great
men. If they do not think them worth purchasing,
trust me, they will never think them worth reading."

10. If fortune seems absolutely determined to
starve you, and you can by no means whatever make
your works sell ; to keep up as much as in you lies,
the expiring dignity of authorship, do not take to
drinking, gambling, or bridge-building as some have
done, thereby bringing the trade of authorship into
disrepute ; but retire to some uninhabited island or
desert, and there, at your leisure, end your life with
decency.

The above is all that has yet been found written by
Robert Slender relative to authors and authorship —
and further the copyist at this time sayeth.not.

DIRECTION'S FOP. COirKTSniP.

Hive eadem ut sciret, quid non/aeiebat Amyntas ? — Yip.g.
The parson of our parish used to say, in his hours
of convivial gaiety, that nothing puzzles a man of
true delicacy more, tlianhow to make the first advances
to the woman he loves, with a becoming propriety of
sentiment, lane/uayc, and behaviour.

I must confess I am somewhat of his opinion in
this matter, and having in my time observed many
a promising alliance broken off by a mere idle inat-
tention to what even a very moderate share of un-
derstanding ought always to dictate upon these

occasions, I shall, for the benefit of those whom it
may concern, set down a few easy rules, by the as-
sistance of which people may at least prevent them-
selves from becoming personally ridiculous, if they
cannot succeed to the utmost of their wishes in other
respects.

"Wnen you take a serious liking to a young woman,
never discover your passion to her by way of letter.
It will either give the lady an idea that you are a
bashful booby, or that you have not any address in
conversation ; botli which defects are sufficient to
ruin you in the estimation of any woman of only
tolerable good sense.

During the time of courtship be careful never to
discourse with the lady upon serious subjects, or
matters that are not strictly and immediately perti-
nent to the purpose you are upon. If she asks you
what news, you must not tell her a long story out
of the Dutch or English gazettes about the decline
of trade, the fall of stocks, or the death of Mynheer
Van der Possum. She looks for no such answers.
You must rather relate a melancholy tale of two or
three young gentlemen of fortune and handsome ex-
pectations that have lately drowned themselves in
the Schuylkill, or thrown themselves headlong from
their third story windows, and been dashed to pieces
on the pavement for the sake of a certain inexorable
fair one, whose name you cannot recollect; but the
beauty and shafts of whose eyes these poor young
gentlemen could not possibly withstand. Such in-
telligence as this will instantly put her into good
humour ; and upon the strength of that lie alone, you
will be allowed liberties with her person that a re-
capitulation of all the morality in Tillotson, or the
real news of five hundred gazettes, would not so
effectually enable you to take.

I would advise you never to make use of the dic-
tatorial style till you are perfectly sure of your Dul-
cinea ; and that period depends in a great measure
upon your own prudence. Till then, you must seem
to give the preference to her judgment in all matters
that happen to be discussed, and submit to be in-
structed by her in whatever she apprehends you do
not understand. Your trade or occupation in life
she takes for granted you are perfectly acquainted
with; and remember never to say a word on that
score in her hearing, unless your calling happens to
have no spice of vulgarity about it. If, however,
you are a governor of an island, or happen to be
some considerable officer of state, 3011 may fre-
quently make professional allusions, as her vanity
will be gratified thereby ; and women, we all know,
are naturally fond of power.

Have a care that you do not pester her with de-
scriptions of the Alps, the Appennines, and the river
Po. A lady is not supposed to know anything of
such matters ; besides, you must be a very cold lover
if those far-fetched things can command your atten-
tion a moment in the company of a fine woman.
Whatever she thinks proper to assert, it is your
business to defend, and prove to be true. If she
says black is white, it is not for men in your proba-
tionary situation to contradict her. On the con-
trary, you must swear and protest that she is right;
and, in demonstrating it, be very cautious of using
pedantic arguments, making nice logical distinctions,
or affecting hard and unintelligible terms.

PHILIP FRENEAU.

339

I hold it to be extremely dangerous to make jocu-
lar remarks upon any of the inferior parts of the
lady's dress. The head-dress, indeed, custom and
female courtesy permits us to treat "with a little
more freedom ; but even this requires great care and
a nice judgment, or you are sure to offend. Above
all things never mention the words petticoat, gar-
ters or shoes in her presence. I once, in my youth-
ful days, introduced a friend of mine to a young lady,
as a preliminary to future connexions. I remember
he was violently in love with her, and would almost
have given his right arm to have had peaceable pos-
session. But he ruined all by his unlucky choice of
a subject in his very first conversation. "Madam,"
said he, (thinking to be very smart) " I have some
fault to find with your shoes'." The lady blushed —
[I endeavoured to turn the conversation another
way, but found it impossible.] — "Madam," (said he
again) " you must permit me to criticise a little upon
your shoes 1 the toes are too round, the straps too
short for the oval of the buckle, and the heels appear
to me at least two inches higher than they ought
to be."

Now there was no great harm in all this ; the con-
sequence, however, was, that the lady immediately
called up the footman, and ordered him to conduct
the gentleman down stairs. I cannot think (said
she) of being addressed by a man, who, from his dis-
course, appears evidently to have been bred up no-
thing more than a simple shoemaker; and what is
worse, will forever continue so!

When you are courting a young lady, be careful
never to send her any presents that are very easily
to be come at, or such as particularly appertain to
your own shop or line of business. A certain French
tobacconist of some fortune fell in love with a girl of
considerable merit and beauty, but having never
turned his attention much to the gay world, he was
not so well acquainted with what is called the eti-
quette of polite life as Frenchmen in general are.
By way of introducing himself to the lady he sent
her his compliments, a letter full of love, and a
basket of cut tobacco, to the chewing and smoking of
which he himself was extravagantly addicted; and
therefore very rationally concluded that the whole
world ought to do the same.

The lady returned the tobacco by the same ser-
vant that brought it, with some expressions of con-
tempt and indignation ; as the present seemed to
imply, that she was fond of smoking and chewing
this very vulgar and nauseous weed. The French-
man, fired with resentment upon seeing his ill-judged
present returned, then sat down and wrote the fol-
lowing billet by way of answer :

" Vat ! you send home the tabac ? — den vat shall I
send in reverse [return] — You will have me send my
own heart? dat I canned en present — adieu."

He soon after enquired of one of the lady's rela-
tions what she was particularly fond of — some one
answered, soft cheese.

He accordingly purchased a large cheese of an
excellent quality, and, to show that lie was in every
sense her slave, carried it to her himself upon his
shoulder. The lady, you may be sure, could do no
less than smile.

" Why you laugh, lady ? Mademoiselle, en verite,
you be in one tres-agreeable good humour, pardie t"

I am laughing, said the lady, to think you are
turned cheesemonger ! It is almost needless to say,
that both he and his cheese were instantly dismissed
the house for ever.

If it can possibly be avoided, never, in the houra
of courtship, let your discourse turn upon anything
relative to female anatomy.

Few young ladies can ever forgive the man that is
found guilty of only insinuating in company, that the
sex have anything to do with materiality. What-
ever, therefore, may be your private opinion, you
must, while in their society, be an absolute imma-
terialist in regard to the rational female world.
Perhaps, an instance may sufficiently illustrate my
meaning.

A certain juvenile lady of acknowledged good
sense and beauty, some time ago had the misfortune
to fall out of her coach, and broke no less than three
of her ribs on the left side, dislocated one of her hips,
and considerably injured her left shoulder, &c.
This was for some days a topic of public conversa-
tion. Dick Prettyman, whom I have mentioned
upon another occasion, was at that time paying his
addresses to Miss Angelica Evergreen. Upon her
enquiring of Dick, one afternoon, the particulars of
this untoward accident, he was silly enough to blurt
I out in plain language before a polite assembly of
j young females, that " the lady had fallen out of the
coach topsy-turvy, had broken three of the best and
I strongest ribs in her whole body, had considerably
I damaged one of her hips, and that her legs, etc., had
not escaped entirely without injury." The company
blushed up to the eyes, unfurled their fans, and a
general confusion took place; till one of the most
resolute of the ladies peeped from behind her fan,
and exclaimed, " Fie, Mr. Prettyman ! have you been
bred up in a hogstye, sir, to talk in this scandalous
manner in the presence of ladies?"

He was then turned out of the room by unani-
mous consent ; and this small inattention to a proper
decorum in conversation had very nearly ruined his
expectations. I remember it was not till after a
long and sincere repentance that he reinstated him-
self in Miss Angelica's favour.

Now, had he been a man of sense and breeding he
would have related the disaster in this manner:

" The chariot was driving along with vast rapi-
dity, pomposity, and an ineffable display of gran-
deur, when suddenly one of the rotatory supporters,
commonly called wheels, struck a post, thro' the
carelessness of the celestial charioteer, and com-
pletely overturned this most elegant and awful ma-
chine; that divine creature, Miss Myrtilla Myrtle-
bones, then tumbled out upon the dusty pavement,
which, I will be bold to say, never before received
so heavenly and sky-bespangled a burden. Her
guardian angel, it seems, was at that moment ne-
glecting his duty. She fell — and, 0 lamentable! —
that exquisitely delicate frame, which the immortal
Jupiter himself had put together with such won-
derful excess of art; that heavenly frame, I say,
was considerably disordered by so rude and severe
a shock."

Such a representation of matters, though, in rea-
lity, giving very little information in itself, would
have thrown the whole female circle into the most
charming humour in the world ; whereas the vulgar
way in which Dick told it was only calculated for
the ears of the surgeon.

LINES OCCASIONED BY A VISIT. TO AN OLD INDIAN BURYING -
GROUND.

In spite of all the learn'd have said

I still my old opinion keep ;
The posture that we give the dead

Points out the soul's eternal sleep.

Not so the ancients of these lands ; —
The Indian, when from life releas'd,

340

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Again is seated ■with his friends,
And shares again the joyous feast.

His imag'd birds, and painted bowl,
And veu'son, for a journey drest,

Bespeak the nature of the soul,
Activity, that "wants no rest.

His bow for action ready bent,
And arrows, with a head of bone,

Can only mean that life is spent,
And. not the finer essence gone.

Thou, Btranger, that shalt come this way.
No fraud upon the dead commit,

Yet, mark the swelling turf, and say.
They do not lie, but here they sit.

Here, still a lofty rock remains.

On which the curious eye may trace

(Now wasted half by wearing rains)
The fancies of a ruder race.

Here, still an aged elm aspires,

Beneath whose far projecting shade

(And which the shepherd still admires)
The children of the forest play'd.

There oft a restless Indian queen,
(Pale Marian with her braided hair}

And many a barbarous form is seen •
To chide the man that lingers there.

By midnight moons, o'er moistening dews.
In vestments for the chace array'd,

The hunter still the deer pursues,
The hunter and the deer — a shade.

And long shall timorous Fancy see
The painted chief, and pointed spear,

And reason's self shall bow the knee
To shadows and delusions here.

THE INDIAN STUDENT J OK, FOKCE OF NATURE.

Rura mild et rigid placeanl in vaUih-us anwws :
Flmviina arnem, syhiasque ingloriit-s.

Vino. Gcorg. n. 4S3.

From Susquehanna's utmost springs

Where savage tribes pursue their game.

His blanket tied with yellow strings,
A shepherd of the forest came.

Not long before, a wandering priest
Express'd his wish, with visage sad —
" Ah, why (he cry'd) in Satan's waste,
Ah, why detain so fine a lad ?

" In Yanky land there stands a town

"Where learning may be purchas'd low —
Exchange his blanket for a gown,
And let the lad to college go." —

From long debate the Council rose,

And viewing Shalum's tricks with joy,
To Harvard hall* o'er wastes of snows,

They sent the copper-colour'd boy.
One generous chief a bow supply' d,

This gave a shaft, and that a skin ;
The feathers, in vermillion dy'd.

Himself did from a turkey win :

Thus dress'd so gay, he took his way
O'er barren hills, alone, alone !

His guide a star, he wander'd far.
His pillow every night a stone.

At last he came, with leg so lame,

Where learned men talk heathen Greek,

And Hebrew lore is gabbled o'er,
To please the muses, twice a week.

* Harvard College, at Cambridge in Massachusetts.

Awhile he writ, awhile he read,

Awhile he learn'd the grammar rules —
i- An Indian savage so well bred

Great credit promis'd to their schools.

Some thought he would in law excel,
Some said in physic he would shine;'

And one that knew him passing well,
Beheld, in him, a sound divine.

But those of more discerning eye

Even then could other prospects show,

And saw him lay his Virgil by
To wander with his dearer bow.

The tedious hours of study spent,
The heavy-moulded lecture done,

He to the woods a hunting went,
But sigh'd to see the setting sun.

No mystic wonders fir'd his mind ;

He sought to gain no learn'd degree,
But only sense enough to find

The squirrel in the hollow tree. ,

The shady bank, the purling stream,
The woody wild his heart possess'd,

The dewy lawn, his morning dream
In Fancy's gayest colours dress'd.

" And why (he cry'd) did I forsake

My native wood for gloomy walls;
The silver stream, the limpid lake
For musty books and college halls.

" A little could my wants supply —

Can wealth and honour give me more ?
Or, will the sylvan god deny

The humble treat he gave before ?

" Let Seraphs reach the bright abode,
And heaven's sublimest mansions see —
I only bow to Nature's God —

The Land of Shades will do for me.

" These dreadful secrets of the sky
Alarm my soul with chilling fear —
Do planets in their orbits fly,

And is the earth, indeed, a sphere?

"Let planets still their aims pursue,
And comets round creation run —
In him my faithful friend I view,
The image of my God — the Sun.

" Where Nature's ancient forests grow,

And mingled laurel never fades,
My heart is fixed, — and I must go
To die among my native shades."

He spoke, and to the western springs,
(His gown discharg'd, his money spent)

His blanket tied with yellow strings,
The shepherd of the forest went.

Returning to the rural reign

The Indians welcom'd him with joy;

The council took him home again,
And bless'd the copper-colour'd boy.

TTIE DYING INDIAN.

Dcbeinw morti nos, nosiraque.
On yonder lake I spread the sail no more [
Yigour, and youth, and active days are past —
Relentless demons urge me to that shore
On whose black forests all the dead are cast:
Ye solemn train, prepare the funeral song,
For I must go to shades below,
Where all is strange, and all is new ;
Companion to the airy throng,

What solitary streams,

In dull and dreary dreams,
All melancholy, must I rove along I

PHILIP FRENEAU.

341

To what strange lands must Shalum take his way !
Groves of the dead departed mortals trace ;
No deer along those gloomy forests stray,
No huntsmen there take pleasure in the ehace,
But all are empty unsubstantial shades,
That ramble through those visionary glades;
No spongy fruits from verdant trees depend,

But sickly orchards there

Do fruits as sickly bear.

And apples a consumptive visage shew,
And wither'd hangs the hurtle-berry blue..

Ah me! what mischiefs on the dead attend !
"Wandering a stranger to the shores below,
Where shall I brook or real fountain find I
Lazy and sad deluding waters now —
Such is the picture in my boding mind I

Fine tales, indeed, they tell

Of shades and purling rills,

"Where our dead fathers dwell

Beyond the western hills,
But when did ghost return his state to shew ;
Or who can promise half the tale is true {

I too must be a fleeting ghost — no more —
None, none but shadows to those mansions go;
I leave my woods, I leave the Huron shore,
For emptier groves below I
Ye charming solitudes,
Ye tall ascending woods,
Ye glassy lakes and prattling streams,
Whose aspect still was sweet,
Whether the sun did greet,
Or the pale moon embrae'd you with her beams —
Adieu to all !
To all, that eharrn'd me where I stray'd.
The winding stream, the dark sequester' d shade ;
Adieu all triumphs here !
Adieu the mountain's lofty swell,
Adieu, thou little verdant hill,
And seas, and stars, and skies — farewell,
For some remoter sphere !

Perplex' d with doubts, and torturd with despair,

Why so dejected at this hopeless sleep!

Nature at last these ruins may repair,

When fate's long dream is o'er, and she forgets to

weep ;
Some real world once more may be assign'd,
Some new-born mansion for the immortal mind !
Farewell, sweet lake; farewell surrounding woods,
To other groves, through midnight glooms, I stray,
Beyond the mountains, and beyond the floods,

Beyond the Huron bay !
Prepare the hollow tomb, and place me low,
My trusty bow, and arrows by my side,
The cheerful bottle, and the ven'son store ;
For long the journey is that I must go.
Without a partner, and without a guide.

He spoke, and bid the attending mourners weep ;
Then clos'd his. eyes, and sunk to endless sleep !*

* There is another Indian poem, which some of our readers
may miss from this selection, entitled, The Death Song of a
Cherokee Indian. It appears as follows, in Carey's American
Museum, i. 77: —

THE DEATII-SONG OF A CITEItOKBE INDIAN.

By P. Freixeau.
The snn sets in night, and the stars shun the day,
But glory remains' when their lights fade away.
Begin, ye tormentors: your threats are in vain,
For the Son of Alknomoek can never complain.
Remember the woods, where in ambush he lay,
And the scalps which he bore from your nation away !
Why do ye delay ? . . . . till I shrink from my pain 'i
Know the Sou of Alknomoek can never complai:1..
Remember the arrows he shot from his bow;
Remember your chiefs by his hatchet laid low,
The flame rises high, you exalt in my pain,
But the son of Alknomoek will never comp'aia.

mat to Ariux.
i.
"Without your showers
I breed no flowers
Each field a barren waste appears;
If yuu don't weep
My blossoms sleep,
They take such pleasure in your tea. a

n.

As your decay

Made room for May,
So I must part with all that's mine ,

My balmy breeze.

My blooming trees,
To torrid suns their sweets resign.

IIL

.For April dead

My shades I spread,
To her I owe my dress so gay;

Of daughters three

It falls on me
To close our triumphs on one day.

IV.

Thus to repose

All Nature goes ;
Month after month must find its doon:

Time on the wing

May ends the Spring,
And Summer frolics o'er her tomb.

THE WILD HONEYSUCKLE.

Fair flower, that dost so eomely grow,

Kid in this silent dull retreat,
Untouched thy honey 'd blossoms blow,

Unseen thy little branches greet :

I go to the land where my father is gone :
His ghost shall rejoice in the fame of his son.
Death comes like a frieud, he relieves me from pain,
Aud thy son, O Alknomoek, has scorn'd to complain.

It is also assigned to Freneau by Samuel L. Knapp in his Lec-
tures on American Literature, 169. We find it, however, in-
troduced, with some slight variations, in the dialogue of Maria
Edgeworth s Rosamond (Harper's ed. p. 304), where the author-
ship is given to " the widow of the celebrated John Hunter,"1
and the following author's note recited from the volume of
poems from which it is taken : — "The idea of this ballad wrn
suggested several yeaTS ago by hearing a gentleman, who had
resided many years in America among the tribe called the
Clvrokees, sing a wild air, which he assured me it was custo-
mary for those people to chant with a barbarous jargon, im-
plying contempt for their enemies in the moments of torture
and death. I have eudeavored to give something of the cha-
racteristic spirit and sentiment of those brave savages."

In Chamber's Cyclopedia of English Literature, ii. 279, there
is a notice of Mrs. John Hunter's volume, "a retired but highly
accomplished lady, sister of Sir Everard Home, and wife of
John Hunter, the celebrated surgeon.1' Her poems were col-
lected and published in 1S06, several of them having beeu pre-
viously exteusivcly circulated. Chambers prints the poem,
and as it has several lines different from the copy circulated in
this country, we give it in Mrs. Hunter's language: —

TTIE DEATH SONG.

Written for and adapted to an original Indian air.
The sun sets in night, and the stars shun the day,
But glory remains when tht-ir lights fade away.
Begin, you tormentors! ymir threats are in vain,
For the Son of Aiknomook will never complain.

Remember the arrows he shot from his bow,
Remember your chiefs by his hatehet laid low.
Why so slow? do you wait till I shrink from the pain?
No; the Son of Aiknomook shall never complain.

Remember the wood where in ambush we lay,
And the scalps which we bore from your nation away.
Now the flame rises fast, you exult in my pain,
But the Son uf Aiknomook can never complain.

I go to the land where my father is gone,
His ghost shall rejoice in the fame of his son ;
Death comes, like a friend, to relieve me from pain :
And thy son, O Aiknomook I has scorn'd to complain.

342

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

No roving foot shall find thee here,
No busy hand provoke a tear.

By Nature's self in white array'd,

She bade thee shun the vulgar eye,
And planted here the guardian shade,
And sent soft waters murmuring by;
Thus quietly thy summer goes,
Thy days declining to repose.

Smit with these charms, that must decay,

I grieve to see thy future doom ;
They died — nor were those flowers less gay,
(The flowers that did in Eden bloom)
Unpitying frost, and Autumn's power
Shall leave no vestige of this flower.

From morning suns and evening dews

At first, thy little being came:
If nothing once, you nothing lose,
For when you die you are the same;
The space between is but an hour,
The mere idea of a flower.

THE HURRICANE.

Happy the man who safe on shore,
Now trims, at home, his evening fire ;
Unmov'd, he hears the tempest's roar,
That on the tufted groves expire:
Alas ! on us they doubly fall,
Our feeble barque must bear them all.

Now to their haunts the birds retreat,
The squirrel seeks his hollow tree,
"Wolves in their shaded caverns meet,
All, all are blest but wretched we —
Foredoom'd a stranger to repose,
No rest the unsettled ocean knows.

While o'er the dark abyss* we Toam,
Perhaps, wliate'er the pilots say,
We saw the sun descend in gloom,
No more to see his rising ray,
But buried low, by far too deep,
On coral beds, uupitied, sleep !

But what a strange, uncoasted strand
Is that, where fate permits no day —
No charts have we to mark that land,
No compass to direct that way —
What pilot shall explore that realm,
What new Columbus take the helm !

While death and darkness both surround,
And tempests rage with lawless power,
Of friendship's voice I hear no sound,
No comfort in this dreadful hour —
What friendship can in tempests be,
What comfort on this troubled sea ?

The barque, accustom'd to obey,
No more the trembling' pilots guide :
Alone she gropes her trackless way,
While mountains burst on either side —
Thus skill and science both must fall,
And ruin is the lot of all.

ST. CATHARISE'S.f

He that would wish to rove awhile
In forests green and gay,
From Charleston bar to Catharine's isle
Might sigh to find the way !
"What scenes on every side appear,
What pleasure strikes the mind,
From Folly's train, thus wandering far,
To leave the world behind.

* An island on the sea-coast of Georgia.

t Near the east end of Jamaica. July"30, 1784.

The musie of these savage grove3

In simple accents swells,

And freely, here, their sylvan loves

The feather'd nation tells ;

The panting deer through mingled shades

Of oaks forever green

The vegetable world invades,

That skirts the watery scene.

Thou sailor, now exploring far

The broad Atlantic wave,

Crowd all your canvass, gallant tar,

Since Neptune never gave

On barren seas so fine a view

As here allures the eye,

Gay, verdant scenes that Nature drew

In colors from the sky.

Ye western winds ! awhile delay

To swell the expecting sail —

Who would not here, a hermit, stay

In yonder fragrant vale,

Could he engage what few can find,

That coy, unwilling guest

(All avarice banish'd from the mind)

Contentment, in the breast !

NEVEESrNK.

These hills, the pride of all the coast,
To mighty distance seen,
With aspect bold and rugged brow,
That shade the neighbouring main :
These heights, for solitude design'd,
This rude resounding shore —
These vales impervious to the wind,
Tall oaks, that to the tempest bend,
Half Druid, I adore.

From distant lands, a thousand sails

Your hazy summits greet —

You saw the angry Briton come,

You saw him, last, retreat!

With towering crest, you first appear

The news of land to tell ;

To him that conies, fresh joys impail,

To him that goes, a heavy heart,

The lover's long farewelk'

'Tis your's to see the sailor bold,

Of persevering mind,

To see him rove in search of care,

And leave true bliss behind ;

To see him spread his flowing sails

To trace a tiresome road,

By wintry seas and tempests chae'd

To see him o'er the ocean haste,

A comfortless abode !

Your thousand springs of waters blue

What luxury to sip,

As from the mountain's breast they flow

To moisten Flora's lip !

In vast retirements herd the deer.

Where forests round them rise,

Dark groves, their tops in fether lost,

That, haunted still by Huddj^s ghost,

The trembling rustic flies.

Proud heights! with pain so often seen,

(With joy beheld once more)

On your firm base I take my stand,

Tenacious of the shore : —

Let those who pant for wealth or fame

Pursue the watery road ; —

Soft sleep and ease, blest days and nights,

And health, attend these favourite heights,

Retirement's blest abode 1

PHILIP FRHNEAU.

343

THE MAN OF NINETY ; 0E, A VISIT TO THE OAK.

" To yonder boughs that spread so wide,
Beneath whose shade soft waters glide,

Once more I take the well known way ;
"With feeble step and tottering knee
I sigh to reach my white-oak tree,

Where rosy health was wont to play.

If to the grave, consuming slow,
The shadow of myself, I go,

When I am gone wilt thou remain ! —
From dust you rose, and grew like me ;
I man became, and you a tree,

Both natives of one verdant plain.

How much alike ; yet not the samei
You could no kind protector claim;

Alone you stood to chance resigned :
When winter came, with blustering sky,
You fear'd its blasts — and so did I,

And for warm suns in secret pin'd.

When vernal suns began to glow
You felt returning vigour flow,

Which once a year new leaves supply'd ;
Like you, fine days I wish'd to see,
And May was a sweet month to me,

But when November came — I sigh'd 1

If through your bark some rustic arm
A mark impress'd, you took the alarm,

And tears awhile I saw descend ;
Till Nature's kind maternal aid
A plaister on your bruises laid,

And bade your trickling sorrows end.

Like you, I fear'd the lightning's stroke
Whose flame dissolves the strength of oak,

And ends at once this mortal dream ; —
You saw with grief the soil decay
That from your roots was torn away;

You siga'd — and curs'd the stream.

With borrow'd earth, and busy spade,
Around your roots new life I laid,

While joy reviv'd in every vein ;
Once more that stream shall death impart!
Though Nature owns the aid of ait,

No art immortal makes her reigu.

How much alike our fortune — say —
Yet why must I so soon decay

When thou hast scarcely reach'd thy prime
Erect and tall you joyous stand ;
The staff of age has found my hand,

That guides me to the grave of time.

Could I, fair tree, like you, resign,
And banish all these fears of mine.

Grey hairs would be no cause of grief;
Your blossoms die, but you remain,
Your fruit lies seatter'd o'er the plain.

Learn wisdom from the falling leaf.

As you survive, by heaven's decree,
Let wither'd flowers be thrown on me,

Sad compensation for my doom.
While Christmas greens and gloomy pines,
And cedars dark, and barren vines,

Point out the lonely tomb.

The enlivening sun, that burns so bright,
Ne'e- had a noon without a night,

So life and de \th agree ;
The ioy* of man by years are broke — "
'Twas thus the man of ninety spoko,

Then rose and left his tree.

THE ALMANAC MAKEE.

Qui tuto iiositus loco

Infra £l> videt omnia

Oceurril .iuo libens

Fato, iwc qiterilur mori. — Seneo.

While others dwell on mean affairs,
Their kings, their councils, and their wars,
Philaster roves among the stars.

In melancholy silence he
Travels alone and cannot see
An equal for his company.

Not one of all the learned train
Like him can manage Charlrs's wain
Or motion of the moon explain.

He tells us when the sun will rise,
Points out fair days, or clouded skies; —
No matter if he sometimes lies.

An annual almanac to frame

And publish with pretended name,

Is all his labour,' all his aim.

He every montli has something new,
Yet mostly deals in what is true
Obliging all, and cheating few.

Our sister moon, the stars, the sun,
In measur'd circles round him run ;
He knows their motions — every one

The solar system at his will —
To mortify such daring skill,
The comets— they are rebels still

Advancing in its daily race
He calculates the planets' plaee,
Nor can the moon elude his cliace.

In dark eclipse when she would hide
And be awhile the modest bride,
He pulls her veil of crape aside.

Each passing age must have its taste;
The sun is in the centre plac'd,
And fuel must supply his waste ;

But how to find it lie despairs,
Nor will he leave his idle cares
Or Jove to mind his own affairs.

lie prophesies the sun's decay ;
And while lie would his fate' delay
New sorrows on his spirits prey.

So much upon his shoulders laid,
He reads what Aristotle said ;
Then calls the comets to his aid.

The people of the lunar sphere
As lie can plainly make appear
Are coming nearer year by year.

Though others often gaze in vain
Not one of all the starry train
Could ever puzzle his strong braiii.

The ram, the twins, the shining goat,
And Argo, in the skies afloat.
To him are things of little note ;

And that which now adorns the be^r,
(I heard him say) the sailor's star,
Will be in time the Lord knows where.

Thus nature waiting at his call,

His book, in vogue with great and sma.l,

Is sought, admir'd, and read by all.

How happy thus on earth to stay,
The planets keeping him in pay-
And when 'tis time to post away,

344

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Old Saturn will a bait prepare,
And hook him up from toil and eare
To make new calculations there.

THE NEW ENGLAND SABEATH-DAY CHA6E.

{Written undo' the CJiaracter of Hezekiali Salem.)
On a fine Sunday morning I mounted my steed,
And southward from Hartford had meant to pro-
ceed;
My baggage was stow'd in a cart very snug,
Which Ranger, the gelding, was fated to lug ;
With his harness and buckles, he looui'd very grand,
And was drove by young Darby, a lad of the land —
On land or on water, most handy was he;
A jockey on shore, and a sailor at sea ;
lie knew all the roads, he was so very keen,
And the Bible by heart, at the age of fifteen.
As thus I jogg'd on, to my saddle confined,
With Ranger and Darby a distance behind;
At last in full view of a steeple we came,
With a cock on the spire, (I suppose he was game;
A dove in the pulpit may suit your grave people,
But always remember — a cock on the steeple.)
Cries Darby — " Dear master, I beg you to stay;
Believe me, there's danger in driving this way ;
Our deacons on Sundays have power to arrest
And lead us to church — if your honor thinks best :
Though still I must do them the justice to tell,
They would choose you should pay them the fine —
full as well."
The fine (said 1), Darby, how much may it be —
A shilling or sixpence ? Why, now let me see,
Three shillings are all the small pence that remain,
And to change a half joe would be rather profane.
Is it more than three shillings, the fine that you

speak on ?
What say you, good Darby, will that serve the
deacon ?
" Three shillings !" (cried Darby) " why, master,
you're jesting ! —
Let us luff while we can, and make sure of our west-
ing—
Forty shillings, excuse me, is too much to pay.
It would take my month's wages — that's all I've to

say.
By taking this road that inclines to the right,
The squire and the sexton may bid us goud night:
If once to old Ranger I give up the rein
The parson himself may pursue us in vain."

" Not I, my good Darby (I answer'd the lad).
Leave the church on the left ! they would think we

were mad.
I would sooner rely on the heels of my steed,
And pass by them all, like a J4.hu indeed:
As long as I'm able to lead in the race,
Old Ranger, the gelding, will go a good pace ;
As the deacon pursues, he will fly like a swallow,
And you in the cart must undoubtedly follow."
Then approaching the church, as we pass'd by the
door
The sexton peep'd out, with a saint or two more,
A deacon came forward and waved us his hat,
A signal to drop him some money — mind that! —
" Now, Darby, (I whispered) be ready to skip,
Ease off the curb bridle — give Ranger the whip:
While you have the rear, and myself lead the way,
No doctor or deaeon shall catch us to-day."

By this time the deacon had mounted his pony,
And chased for the sake of our souls and — our money:
The saint, as he followed, cried — " Stop them, hal-
loo !"
As swift as he followed, as swiftly we flew.

" Ah, master ! (said Darby) I very much fear
We must drop him some money to check his career;
He is gaining upon us and waves with his hat —

There's nothing, dear master, will stop him but that.
Remember the Beaver (you well know the fable),
Who flying the hunters as long as he's able,
■When he finds that his efforts can nothing avail,
But death and the puppies are close at his tail,
Instead of desponding at such a dead lift,
He bites off their object, and makes a free gift.
Since fortune all hope of escaping denies,
Better give them a little than lose the whole prize.''
But scarce had he spoke, when we came to a place
Whose muddy condition concluded the chase.
Down settled the cart, and old Ranger stuck fast.
Aha ! (said the saint), have I catch d ye at last ?
********

Csetera desunt.

NEW ENGLAND AND NEW YORK.

These exiles were form'd in a whimsical mould,
And were aw'd by their priests, like the Hebrews

of old ;
Disclaim'd all pretences to jesting and laughter,
And sigh'd their lives through, to be happy hereafter.

On a crown immaterial their hearts were intent,
They look'd towards Zion, wherever they went,
i Did all things in hopes of a future reward,
j And worry'd mankind — for the sake of the Lord.

' With rigour excessive they strengthen'd their reign,
I Their laws were conceiv'd in the ill-natur'd strain,

With mystical meanings the saint was perplext.

And the flesh and the devil were slain by a text.

The body was scourg'd for the good of the soul,
All folly discourag'd by peevish controul,
A knot on the head was the sign of no grace,
And the Pope and his comrade were pictur'd in lace.

A stove in their churches, or pews lin'd with green,
Were horrid to think of, much less to be seen,
Their bodies were warm'd with the linings of love,
And the fire was sufficient that fiash'd from above.

'Twas a crime to assert that the moon was opaque.
To say the earth mov'd, was to merit the stake ;
And he that could tell an eclipse was to be,
In the college of Satan had took his degree.

On Sundays their faces were dark as a cloud —

The road to the meeting was only allow'd,

And those they caught rambling, on business or

pleasure,
Were sent to the stocks, to repent at their leisure.

This day was the moumfullest day in the week —
Except on religion, none ventur'd to speak —
This day was the day to examine their lives,
To clear off old scores, and to preach to their wives.

In the school of oppression though woefully taught,
'Twas only to be the oppressors they sought ;
All, all but themselves were be-devill'd and blind,
And their nanow-soul'd creed was to serve ail
mankind.

This beautiful system of nature below
They neither consider'd, nor wanted to know,
And call'd it a dog-house wherein they were pent.
Unworthy themselves, and their mighty descent.

They never perceiv'd that in Nature's wide plan
There must be that whimsical creature call'd Max,
Far short of the rank he affects to attain,
Yet a link in its place, in creation's vast chain.
*****

Tims, feuds and vexations distracted their reign,
(And perhaps a few vestiges still may remain)
But time has presented an offspring as bold,
Less free to believe, and more wise than the old.

PHILIP FRENEAU.

315

Their phantoms, their wizzards, theii' witches are

fled—
Matthew Paris*!!* story with horror is read —
His daughters, and all the enchantments they bore —
And the demon, that pinch'd them, is heard of no

more.
Their taste for the fine arts is strangely increas'd,
And Latin's no longer a mark of the Beast :
Mathematics, at present, a farmer may know,
Without being haug'd for connections below.

Proud, rough, independent, undaunted and free,
And patient of hardships, their task is the sea,
Their country too barren their wish to attain,
They make up the loss by exploring the main.

Wherever bright Phoebus awakens the gales
I 6ee the bold Yankees expanding their sails,
Throughout the wide ocean pursuing their schemes,
And chaciug the whales on its uttermost streams.

No climate, for them, is too cold or too warm,
They reef the broad canvas, and fight with the

storm ;
In war with the foremost their standards display,
Or glut the loud eaunon with death, for the fray.

No valour in fable their valour exceeds,
Their spirits are fitted for desperate deeds;
No rivals have they in our annals of fame,
Or if they are rivall'd, 'tis York has the claim.

Inspir'd at the sound, while the name she repeats,
Bold fancy conveys me to Hudson's retreats —
Ah, sweet recollection of juvenile dreams
In the groves, and the forests that skirted his streams !

How often, with rapture, those streams were survey'd
When, sick of the city, I flew to the shade — ■
How often the ba*l and the peasant shall moxirn
Ere those groves shall revive, or those shades shall
return !

Not a hill, but some fortress disfigures it round !
And ramparts are rais'd where the cottage was

found !
The plains and the vallies with ruin are spread,
With graves in abundance, and bones of the dead.

The first that attempted to enter this streight
(In anno one thousand six hundred and eight)
Was Hudson (the same that we inention'd before,
Who was lost in the gulf that he went to explore.)

For a sum that they paid him (we know not how

much)
This captain transferr'd all his right to the Dutch ;
for the time has been here, (to the world be it

known,)
When all a man sail'd by, or saw, was his own.

The Dutch on their purchase sat quietly down,
And fix'd on an island to lay out a town ;
They modell'd their streets from the horns of a ram ;
And the name that best pleas'd them was New

Amsterdam.

They purchas'd large tracts from the Indians for

beads,
And sadly tormented some runaway Swedes,
Who (none knows for what) from their country had

flown
To live here in peace, undisturb'd and alone.
New Belgia, the Dutch call'd their province, be sure,
But names never yet made possession secure,
For Charley (the second that honour'd the name)
Sent over a squadron, asserting his claim.

* See Neil's History of New England.

; (Had his sword and his title been equally slender,
In vain had they summon'd Mynheer to surrender)
The soil they demanded, or thrcaten'd their worst,
Insisting that Cabot had look'd at itjirst.

■ The want of a squadron to fall on their rear
Made the argument perfectly plain to Mynheer —
Force ended the contest — the right was a sham,
And the Dutch were sent packing to hot Surinam.

'Twas hard to be thus of their labours depriv'd,
But the age of republics had not yet arriv'd —
Fate saw — tho' no wizzard could tell them as much —
Tliat the crown, in due time, was to fare like t/w
Dutch.

THE ROYAL APPRENTICE : A LONDON STORY.

A widow who some miles from London lived,

Far in a vale obscure, of little note,

With much ado a poor subsistence gain'd

From a spinning-wheel, that just her living brought.

A son she had, a rude, mischievous wight,
Who, now to fifteen years or more arrived,
Would neither dig nor thresh, nor hold the plough,
But simply by the poor old woman lived.

Joan thought it time this lazy, lounging lad,
Should learn some trade, since country work l.o

hated :
Jerry, said she, to London you must go,
And learn to work ; for this you was created.

While tarrying here, you eat up all my kail,
Scarce leave a turnip-top — my hens you kill,
And nothing earn. My wheel alone goes round,
But time must come, my boy, when stop it will.

Tour legs and arms grow every day more stro:i:r;
For height you shortly will be call'd a man:
Not so with me — I am hastening down the hill,
And soon must mix with dust, where I began !

Jerry with tears received the good advice;
So, up to London town next week they went.
Now choose, said Joan, the trade you fancy best
For to some trade you must and shall be sent.

So round he stroll'd through many a street and alley,
Saw blacksmiths here, like Vulcan, wielding sledge's ;
There tailors sitting cross-legg'd on a board,
Next barbers whetting up their razors' edges.

Now saw a cobbler cobbling in his stall,
Then weaver busy with his warp and woof;
Now mason raising high some lordling's wall,1
Or carpenter, engaged upon a roof.

These pleased him not. All this was hard-earn'd cash.
Tight work he thought, in one disguise or other.
He look'd at labor — saw it was not good —
Or oidy good as managed by his mother.

He shook his head, as if he meant to say,
All this is worse than threshing — learn a trade!
Something I'll learn that's fine, genteel, and airy.
For common work these hands were never made.

At last he chanced to stray where dwells the king —
Great George the Third, in all his pomp and glare ;
Well now, thought Jerry, here must live a man
That lias a trade would suit me to a hair.

There's little doing — all is brisk and gay,
And dainty dishes go a begging here:
Some seem to work, yet all their work is pla}7,
I will be bound at least for seven long year.

So back he came where honest Joan was waiting.
Well, Jerry, tell me, what's the trade you pitch on?
Mother, said he, there is but one I like,
Or which a man is likely to get rich on.

346

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

" Come, tell me then the business you prefer:
One only thriving trade! — a curious thing!
Out with it then !" Said Jerry, Mother dear,
Dear mother, bind me 'prentice to the king.

TO THE MEMORY

Of the brave Americans, under General Greene, in South Ca-
rolina, who fell in the action of September 8, 1781.

At Eutaw springs the valiant died:
Their limbs with dust are covered o'er —
Weep on, ye springs, your tearful tide;
How many heroes are no more !

If in this wreck of ruin, they
Can yet be thought to claim a tear,
O smite thy gentle breast, and say
The friends of freedom slumber here!

Thou, who shalt trace this bloody plain,
If goodness rules thy generous breast,
Sigh for the wasted rural reign ;
Sigh for the shepherds, sunk to rest !

Stranger, their humble graves adorn ;
You too may fall, and ask a tear :
Tis not the beauty of the morn
That proves the evening shall be clear —

They saw their injur'd country's woe ;
The flaming town, the wasted field ;
Then rush'd to meet the insulting foe ;
They took the spear— but left the shield.

Led by thy conquering genius, Greene,
The Britons they compell'd to fl}' :
None distant view'd the fatal plain,
None griev'd, in such a cause, to die —

But, like the Parthian, fam'd of old,
Who, flying, still their arrows threw ;
These routed Britons, full as bold,
Retreated, and retreating slew.

Now rest in peace, our patriot band;
Though far from Nature's limits thrown,
We trust, they find a happier land,
A brighter sunshine of their own.

ON THE MEMORABLE VICTORY

Obtained by the. gallant Captain John Paul Jones of the Bon
Homme Richard, over the Scrapis, under the command of
Captain Pearson.

O'er the rough main, witli flowing sheet,
The guardian of a numerous fleet,

Seraphis from the Baltic came :
A ship of less tremendous force
Sail'd by her side the self-same course,

Countess of Scarb'ro' was her name.

And now their native coasts appear,
Britannia's hills their summits rear

Above the German main ;
Fond to suppose their dangers o'er,
They southward coast along the shore,

Thy waters, gentle Thames, to gain.

Full forty guns Seraphis bore,

And Scarb'ro's Countess twenty-four,

Mann'd with Old England's boldest tars —
What flag that rides the Gallic seas
Shall dare attack such piles as these,

Design'd for tumults and for wars !

Now from the top-mast's giddy height
A seaman ery'd — " Four sail in sight

Approach w-ith favouring gales."
Pearson, resolv'd to save the fleet,
Stood off to sea, these ships to meet,

And closely brae'd his shivering sails.

With him advane'd the Countess bold,
Like a black tar in wars grown old :

And now these floating piles drew nigh
But, muse, unfold, what chief of fame
In the other warlike squadron came,

Whose standards at his mast-head fly.

'Twas Jones, brave Jones, to battle led
As bold a crew as ever bled

Upon the sky-surrounded main ;
The standards of the western world
Were to the willing winds unfurl'd,

Denying Britain's tyrant reign.

The Good-Man-Richard led the line ;
The Alliance next : with these combine

The Gallic ship they Pallas call,
The Vengeance arm'd with sword and flame ;
These to attack the Britons came—

But two accomplish'd all.

Now Phoebus sought his pearly bed :
But who can tell the scenes of dread,

The horrors of that fatal night!
Close up these floating castles came :
The Good-Maii-Richard bursts in flame;

Seraphis trembled at the sight.

She felt the fury of her ball :

Down, prostrate, down the Britons fall ;

The decks were strew'd with slain:
Jones to the foe his vessel lash'd ;
And, while the black artillery flash'd,

Loud thunders shook the main.

Alas! that mortals should employ
Such murdering engines to destroy

That frame by heaven so iiypely join'd ;
Alas ! that e'er the god decreed
That brother should by brother bleed,

And pour'd such madness in the miud.

But thou, brave Jones, no blame shalt bear
The rights of men demand your care :

For these you dare the greedy waves
No tyrant, on destruction bent,
Has plann'd thy conquests — thou art sent

To humble tyrants and their slaves.

See ! — dread Seraphis flames again —
And art thou, Jones, among the slain,

And sunk to Neptune's eaves below —
He lives — though crowds around him fail,
Still he, unhurt, survives them all ;

Almost alone he fights the foe.

And can your ship these strokes sustain ?
Behold your brave companions slain,

All clasp'd in ocean's cold embrace,
Stkike, or be sunk — the Briton cries —
Sink if tou can — the chief replies,

Fierce lightnings blazing in his face.

Then to the side three guns he drew,
(Almost deserted by his crew,)

And charg'd them deep with woe ;
By Pearson's flash he aim'd hot balls;
His main-mast totters — down it falls —

O'erwhelming half below.

Pearson had yet disdain'd to yield,
But scarce his secret fears concealM,
And thus was heard to cry —
' With hell, not mortals, I contend ;
What art thou — human, or a fiend,
That dost my force defy ?

PHILIP FRENEAU.

347

" PLeturn, my lads, the fight renew !" —
So call'd bold Pearson to his crew ;

But call'd, alas! in vain ;
Some on the decks lay maim'd and dead ;
Some to their deep recesses fled,

And hosts "were shrouded in the niaia.

Distressed, forsaken, and alone,

He haul'd his tatter'd standard down,

And yielded to his gallant foe ;
Bold Pallas soon the Countess took, —
Thus both their haughty colours struck,

Confessing what the brave can do.

But, Jones, too dearly didst thou buy
These ships possest so gloriously,

Too many deaths disgrac'd the fray:
Thy barque that bore the conquering flam",
That, the proud Briton overcame,

Even she forsook thee on thy way ;

For when the morn began to shine,
Fatal to her, the ocean brine

Pour'd through each spacious wound ;
Quick in the deep she disappear'd :
But Jones to friendly Belgia steer'd,

With conquest and with glory crown' d.

Go on, great man, to scourge the foe,
And bid these haughty Britons know

They to our Thirteen Stars shall ben 1 ;
The Stars that, veil'd in dark attire,
Long glimmer'd with a feeble fire,

But radiant' now ascend.

Bend to the Stars that flaming rise

On western worlds, rnore brilliant skies,

Fair Freedom's reign restor'd—
So when the Magi, come from far.
Beheld the God-attending Star,

They trembled and ador'd.

THE BATTLE OF 6T0NTNGT0N, ON TUE SEABOARD OF CONNEC-
TICUT.

In an attack upon the town and a small fort of two amis, by
Vie Ramillies, siventy-four gun ship, commanded by Sir
Tliomas Hardy ; the Pcutolm,Z% (fan. ship, Despatch, brig
of2'2 guns, and a razee, or bomb ship. — August, lbl4.

Four gallant ships from England came
Freighted d :-ep with fire and flame,
And other tilings we need not name,
To have a dash at Stouington.

Now safely moor'd, their work begun;
They thought to make the Yankees run,
And have a mighty deal of fun

In stealing sheep at Stouington.

A deacon then popp'd up his head,
And parson Jones's sermon read,
In which the reverend doctor said

That they must fight for Stoningt >:i.

A townsman bade them, next, attend
To sundry resolutions penn'd,
By which they promised to defend

With sword and gun old Stoning '.c:i.

The ships advancing different ways,
The Britons soon began to blaze,
And put th' old women in amaze,

Who fear'd the loss of Stoningt' o_

The Yankees to their fort repair'.!,
And made as though they little cared
For all that came — though very hard

The cannon play'd on Stouington.
The Ramillies began the attack,
Despatch came forward— bold and black —
And none can tell what kept them back
' From setting fire to Stonmgton.

The bombardiers with bomb and ball,
Soon made a farmer's barrack fall,
And did a cow-house sadly maul

That stood a mile from Stouington.

They kill'd a goose, they kill'd a lien,
Three hogs they wounded in a pen —
They dash'd away, and pray what then ?
This was not taking Stouington.

The shells were thrown, the rockets flew,
But not a shell, of all they threw.
Though every house was full in view,

Could burn a house at Stouington..

To have their turn they thought but fair; —
The Yankees brought two guns to bear,
And, sir, it would have made you stare,

Tliis smoke of smokes at Stouington.

They bored Pactolus through and through,
And kill'd and wounded of her crew
So many, that she bade adieu

T' the gallant boys of Stouington.

The brig Despatch was hull'd and torn —
So crippled, riddled, so forlorn,
No more she cast an eye of scorn

On the little fort at Stouington.

The Ramilliee gave up th' affray,
And, with her comrades, sneak'd away.
Such was the valor, on that day,

Of British tars near Stouington.

But some assert, on certain grounds,
(Besides the damage and the wounds),
It cost the king ten thousand pounds
To have a dash at Stouington.

A BACCHANALIAN DIALOGUE. WRITTEN 1S03.

Arrived at Madeira, the island of vines,
Where mountains and valleys abound,

Where the sun the mild juice of the cluster refines,
To gladden the magical ground:

As pensive I stray'd in Her elegant shade,
Now halting and now on the move,

Old Bacchus I met, with a crown on his head,
In the darkest recess of a grove.

I met him with awe, but no symptom of fear
As I roved by his mountains and springs,

When he said with a sneer, " how dare you come
here,
You hater of despots aud kings ?—

" Do you know that a prince, and a regent renown'd
Presides in this island of wine ?
Whose fame on the earth has encircled it round
And spreads from the pole to the line?

" Haste away with your barque : on the foam of
the main
To Charleston I bid you repair:
There drink your Jamaica, that maddens the brain ;
You shall have no Madeira — I swear."

" Dear Bacchus," (I answered) for Bacchus it waJ,
That spoke in this menacing tone:
I knew by the smirk and the flush on his face
It was Bacchus, and Bacchus alone —

"Dear Bacchus (I answered), nh, why so severe? —
Since your nectar abundantly flows,
Allow me one cargo — without it I fear
Some people will soon come to blows.

" I left them in wrangles, disorder, and strife,
Political feuds were so high,
I was sick of their quarrels, and sick of my lire,
And almost requested to die."

34:8

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

The deity smiling, replied, " I relent : —
For the sake of your coming so far,

Here, taste of my choicest — go, tell them repent,
And cease their political war.

" With the cargo I send, you may say, I intend
To hush tliem to peace and repose ;
With this present of mine, on the wings of the
wind
You shall travel, and tell them, here goes

"A health to old Bacchus ! who sends them the best
Of the nectar his island affords,
The soul of the feast and the joy of the guest,
Too good for your monarchs and lords.

" No rivals have I in this insular waste,
Alone will I govern the isle
With a king at my feet, and a court to my taste,
And all in the popular style.

'• But a spirit there is in the order of things, •
To me it is perfectly plain,
That will strike at the sceptres of despots and kings,
And only king Bacchus remain."

GOUYEENEUE MOEEIS.

The first of the ancestors of Gouvernenr Morris
"who emigrated to America, was Richard Morris,
who is said to have been an officer in Cornwallis's
army. He came to New York, after a short resi-
dence in the West Indies, and purchased an estate
of three thousand acres at Harlaem, which was
invested by the governor with manorial rights.
His son Lewis succeeded to the estate ; and filled,
during the last eight years of his life, the office
of Governor of New Jersey. His eldest son,
Lewis, became a member of the New York Legis-
lature.in which he adopted the liberal side. He had
eight children, four of whom were sons, and out
of these sons Gouvernenr was the youngest. He

was born at Morrisania, Jan. SI, 1752. When
quite young lie was placed in the family of M.
Tetar, a teacher at New Eochelle, where he ac-
quired a thorough knowledge of the French lan-
guage. He was a graduate of King's College at the
early age of sixteen, and distinguished himself at
Commencement by a florid address on Wit and
Beauty. He next studied law in the office of
William Smith, the Colonial historian of the state;

and we find him at the age of eighteen, displaying
the future bent of his mind by a series of anony-
mous newspaper articles against a project brought
up in the Assembly for raising money by issuing
bills of credit. In 1775, he was elected a member
of the first Provincial Congress. Here he early
attracted attention, by a report and speech on the
mode of emission of a paper currency by the Con-
tinental Congress. The report was forwarded to
that body, which afterwards followed out its chief
suggestions. He continued in this position, taking
an active part in every leading question, until the
year 1777, when he was elected a member of the
1 Revolutionary Congress. The winter which fol-
I lowed his appointment was passed at Valley Forge,
as one of a committee appointed to examine, with
l Washington, into the state of the army. He sub-
| sequently maintained a regular correspondence
with the general, and was of much service in
Congress, promoting measures for the better sup-
port and efficiency of the national forces. He was
also the chairman of the committee of five ap-
pointed in 177!) to consider the despatches receiv-
i ed from the American Commissioners in Europe,
i whose report formed the basis of the subsequent
| treaty of peace. On the question of the jurisdiction
i of the state of New York over the " New Hamp-
! shire Grants," now the State of Vermont, Mor-
I lis was supposed to be, and probably was, in
; favor of the independence of the region, and con-
sequently lost his election by the state legislature.
He continued to reside in Philadelphia, where he
commenced the practice of his profession. In the
early part of 1780, he published a series of essays
in the " Pennsylvania Packet," signed " An Ame-
rican" on the state of the national finances, which
were then in their worst condition. In these, he
attacks with ability the laws passed, making the
receipt of the paper currency at a fixed value com-
pulsory, and also those regulating prices. An
able passage is quoted by Mr. Sparks from one of
these papers : —

'The last object I shall mention,' ' is the preserva-
tion of our federal union, which, in my poor opinion,
will greatly depend on the management of our reve-
nue. The articles of confederation were formed
when the attachment to Congress was great and
warm. The framers of it, therefore, seem to have
been only solicitous how to provide against the
power of that body, which, by means of their fore-
sight and care, now exists by mere courtesy and suf-
ferance. This is an evil, which cannot at present be
remedied, but if, in addition to this, a number of long
accounts, and quotas, and proportions be left for set-
tlement, until the enemy be removed at a distance,
and the fear of them also removed, these will afford
so much matter for litigation, and occasion such
heart-burnings, and give such room for the intrigues,
which Great Britain has already attempted, and
which will doubtless be carried on by her or some
other foreign power, that our union will become,
what our enemies long since declared it was, a mere
rope of sand. Congress then, like the traveller's
coat in the fable, after having been hugged close
through the stormy hour of danger, will be cast
aside as a useless burden, in the calm and sunshine
of peace and victory. Surely the consequences of
such a measure, the struggles, the convulsions, the
miseries, need not be pictured to a sensible and dis-
cerning people.'

In May of this year, Morris, while driving

GOUVERNEUR MORRIS.

349

through Philadelphia, was thrown from his vehi-
cle, and his leg injured to such an extent as to
render amputation necessary. He submitted to
the operation with cheerfulness ; and is said to
have had it performed by a young surgeon, that
the credit attached to a successful treatment of a
case which had attracted public attention, might
be given to a friend whom it would advance in
fortune.

" The day after the accident occurred, a friend
called to see him, who thought it his duty to offer
as much consolation as he could, on an event so
melancholy. He dwelt upon the good effects which
such a trial would produce on his character and
moral temperament, and the diminished induce-
ments it would leave for seeking the pleasures and
dissipations of life, into which young men are too
apt to be led. ' My good Sir,' replied Mr. Morris,
'you argue the matter so handsomely, and point
out so clearly the advantages of being without
legs, that I am almost tempted to part with the
other.'

" To another person, who visited him on the
same occasion, and gave utterance to his feelings
of sympathy and regret, he replied : ' O, Sir, the
loss is much less than you imagine; I shall doubtless
be a steadier man with one leg than with two.' "*

For the remainder of his life he wore a wooden
leg, preferring this substitute to one of cork, which
he tried afterwards in Paris. The wooden leg did
him a better service than a real one on one occa-
sion during his ministry in that city. Being
hooted while riding home in his carriage, during
the revolution, he disarmed the fury of the mob,
and converted their cries of aristocrat into cheers
of approbation by putting his wooden member
out of the window and exclaiming " An aristocrat?
Yes, who lost his limb in the cause of American
liberty."t

In 1781, Robert Morris was placed at the head
of the finances of the nation, which had previously
been managed by a committee of Congress. His
first act was to appoint Gouverneur Morris his as-
sistant. He accepted the situation, and performed
its duties for three years and a half. He still re-
mained, after his retirement, connected with Ro-
bert -Morris in various private financial matters.
In 1780, his mother died. Her life interest in the
estate of Morrisania thus terminated ; it passed
into the possession of the second son, Staats Long
Morris, a general in the British army, the eldest
son Lewis, having received his portion in his fa-
ther's lifetime. The other children were to re-
ceive seven thousand pounds from Staats. As he
resided in England he had no objection to a sale,
and Gouverneur, by the aid of loans and accom-
modations, became possessed of the estate by pur-
chase from his brother. In 1787, he took his seat
as delegate from Pennsylvania, in the convention
for the formation of the federal constitution. No
record of his acts in that body is found among
his papers. An original letter written to Mr.
Sparks in reply to a request for information on the
subject by President Madison, bears testimony to
Morris's general exertions in promoting harmony,
and also that the draft of the constitution was
placed in his hands to receive its finished form.

* Sparks's Life, p. 224.

t Tuckerman's Mental Portraits. Art, Morris.

On the 18th of December, 1788, Morris sailed
for Havre. He arrived at Paris on the 3d of Feb-
ruary following. From this time he kept a mi-
nute diary, numerous selections from which will
be found in Mr. Sparks's Life.

In January, 1791, Morris visited London by
appointment of President Washington, as a private
agent to the English government, to settle unful-
filled articles of the treaty of peace. Conferences
were prolonged till September without result.
During his stay at London, he received the an-
nouncement of his appointment as Minister to
France. His course during the troublesome
period of his tenure of this office, was marked by
the caution requisite in his position. In August,
1794, he was succeeded by Monroe— his recall
having been asked by the French government,
after the recall of Citizen Genet at the request of
the United States. He next made an extensive
tour in Europe, and while at Vienna endeavored
to obtain the release of La Fayette from Olmutz.
Tins was effected in September, 1797, at the re-
quisition of Bonaparte. In October, 179S, having
arranged the complicated business affairs which
had long occupied his attention, he returned
home. The voyage from Hamburgh, retarded by
various accidents, occupied eighty daj's. He was
chosen the next year to fill a vacancy in the
Senatorial representation of New York. Before,
taking his seat in May, he was engaged in Febru-
ary as counsel in a law case at Albany, in which
Hamilton was opposed to him. He sided in the
Senate, and for the remainder of his life, with
the Federalists. He was opposed to the discon-
tinuance of direct taxation, and in favor of the
purchase of Louisiana. His terra closed in March,
1803, and the remainder of his life was passed at
Morrisania.

He married on Christmas Day, 1809, Miss Anne
Carey Randolph, a member of the eminent Virgi-
nia family of that name. Without informing
his relatives of his intention, he assembled them
apparently for the celebration of the festival, and
while they were wondering at the non-appear-
ance of their host, entered with a lady, and the
pair Were forthwith made man and wife. If all
present did not relish the marriage, they did the
dinner, and in this odd mode of conducting a
delicate affair, the wary politician may have
shown his skill as well as in the wider field of
national diplomacy. The guests were again sum-
moned to the baptism of his child. A mot of one
of the party deserves record for its humor, good
or bad as the reader pleases. They were in
ignorance before the ceremony as to the name the
infant was to receive. "For my part," said one,
near, we presume, in the scale of propinquity, "I
think he had better call his boy after his Russian
friend, Kutusoff."

He still retained his fondness for travel, and
made frequent journeys. He delivered funeral
orations on the occasion of the deatli of Wash-
ington, two others of a similar character on
Hamilton and Governor George Clinton ; an ad-
dress "in celebration of the Deliverance of Europe-
from the Yoke of Military Despotism," June 29,
1814; an inaugural Discourse before the New
York Historical Society, on his appointment as
President, and towards the close of his life con-
tributed frequently to the New York Evening

350

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Post, the Examiner, and the United States Ga-
zette. His articles consist chief!}' of satires in
prose and verse on the politics of the day. The
oration on Hamilton was delivered in the open
air, on his interment at the porch of the old
Trinity Church. He was an early advocate of the
Erie Canal, and was Chairman of the Canal Com-
missioners from their first appointment in March,
1810, until his death, which occurred after a brief
illness, November 6, 1S16.

"When he was about dying, he said to his friend
at Morrisania, "Sixty-five years ago it pleased
the Almighty to call me into existence, here, on
this spot, in this very room; and how shall I com-
plain that he is pleased to call me hence ? " From
the nature of his disease, he was aware that his
hours were numbered. On the morning of his
death, he inquired of his near relative, the Hon.
Martin S. Wilkins, what kind of a day it was?
"A beautiful day," answered his nephew. "The
air is soft, the day cloudless, the water like crys-
tal ; you hear every ripple, and even the plash of
the steamboat wheels on the river ; it is a beauti-
ful day." The dying man seemed to take in this
description with that zest for nature which ac-
corded with the poetic interest of his character.
Like Webster, his mind reverted to Gray's Elegy ;
he looked at the kind relative, and repeated his
last words. " A beautiful day ; yes, but

" Who to dumb forgetfulness a prey,

This pleasing anxious being e'er resigned,
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
Nor east one longing, lingering look behind."*

His life, with selections from his correspondence
and miscellaneous papers, by Jared Sparks, was
published in 1832, in 3 vols. 8vo. A large portion
is occupied with his public and private correspond-
ence, on the French Revolution. His letters con-
tain a mass of testimony and sagacious comment
on that great event.

Morris, like many energetic men, was in the
habit of expressing his opinions with a freedom
which often involved hira in difficulties. His
indulgence in sarcasm also led to difficulties, and
gained him enemies. His openness and sincerity
of character were, however, duly estimated and
prized by his friends. His shrewdness enabled
him to take advantage of favorable opportunities
for the increase of his property, and he died the
possessor of a large estate. In person, he so
closely resembled Washington, that he stood as a
model of his form to Houdon the sculptor.

FUNERAL ORATION BY THE DEAD BODY OF nAMILTON.

If on this sad, this solemn occasion, I should en-
deavor to move your commiseration, it would be
doing injustice to that sensibility, which has been
so generally and so justly manifested. Far from at-
tempting to excite your emotions, I must try to re-
press my own ; and yet, I fear, that, instead of the
language of a public speaker, you will hear only the
lamentations of a wailing friend. But I will struggle
with my bursting heart, to portray that Heroic
Spirit, which has flown to the mansions of bliss.

Students of Columbia — he was in the ardent
pursuit of knowledge in your academic shades, when

* Dr. J. W. Francis's comparison of Webster and Morris, at
the celebration of Webster's birth-day, January 13, 1854, at the
Astor House.

the first sound of the American war called him to
the field. A young and unprotected volunteer,
such was his zeal, and so brilliant his service, that
we heard his name before we knew his person. It
seemed as if God had called him suddenly into
existence, that he might assist to save a world 1

The penetrating eye of Washington soon perceived
the manly spirit which animated his youthful
bosom. By that excellent judge of men, he was
selected as an Aid, and thus he became early ac-
quainted with, and was a principal actor in the most
important scenes of our Revolution. At the siege
of York, lie pertinaciously insisted on — and he ob-
tained the command of a Forlorn Hope. He stormed
the redoubt ; but let it be recorded that not one
single man of the enemy perished. His gallant
troops, emulating the heroism of their chief, checked
the uplifted arm, and spared a foe no longer resist-
ing. Here closed his military career.

Shortly after the war, your favor — no, your dis-
cernment, called him to public office. You sent him
to the convention at Philadelphia; he there assisted
in forming that constitution, which is now the bond
of our union, the shield of our defence, and the
source of our prosperity. In signing the compact,
he expressed his apprehension that it did not con-
tain sufficient means of strength for its own preser-
vation ; and that in consequence we should share the
fate of many other Republics, and pass through
Anarchy to Despotism. We hoped better things.
We confided in the good sense of the American
people ; and, above all, we trusted in the protecting
Providence of the Almighty. On this important
subject he never concealed his ppinion. He dis-
dained concealment. Knowing the purity of his
heart, he bore it as it were in his hand, exposing to
every passenger its inmost recesses. This generous
indiscretion subjected him to censure from misrepre-
sentation. His speculative opinions were treated
as deliberate designs ; and yet you all know how
strenuous, how unremitting were his efforts to
establish and to preserve the constitution. If, then,
his opinion was wrong, pardon, 0 ! pardon that
single error, in a life devoted to your service.

At the time when our government was organized,
we were without funds, though not without re-
sources. To e.-ill them into action, and establish
order in the finances, Washington sought for splendid
talents, for extensive information, and above all, he
sought for sterling, incorruptible integrity. All
these he found in Hamilton. The sj'stem' then
adopted, has been the subject of much animadver-
sion. If it be not without a fault, let it be remem-
bered that nothing human is perfect Recollect the
circumstances of the moment — recollect the conflict
of opinion — and, above all, remember that the
minister of a Republic must bend to the will of the
people. The administration which Washington
formed was one of the most efficient, one of the best
that any country was ever blest with. And the
result was a rapid advance in power and prosperity,
of which there is no example in any other nge or
nation. The part which Hamilton bore is universally
known.

His unsuspecting confidence in professions, which
he believed to be sincere, led him to trust too much
to the undeserving. This exposed him to misrepre-
sentation. He felt himself obliged to resign. The
care of a rising family, and the narrowness of his
fortune, made it a duty to return to his profession
for their support. But though he was compelled to
abandon public life, never, no, never for a moment
did he abandon the public service. He never lost
sight of your interests. I declare to you, before that
God, in whose presence we are now especially as-

GOUVERNEUR MORRIS.

351

sembled, that in his most private and confidential
conversations, the single objects of discussion and
consideration were your freedom and happiness.
You well remember the state of things which again
called forth Washington from his retreat to lead
your armies. You know that he asked for Hamilton
to be his second in command. That venerable sage
well knew the dangerous incidents of a military
profession, and he felt the hand of time pinching
life at its source. It was probable that he would
soon be removed from the scene, and that his second
would succeed to the command. He knew by ex-
perience the importance of that place — and he
thought the sword of America might safely be
confided to the hand which now lies cold in that
coffin. Oh! my fellow-citizens, remember this
solemn testimonial that he was not ambitious. Yet
he was charged with ambition, and wounded by the
imputation, when he laid down his command, he
declared, in the proud independence of his soul, that
he never would accept of any office, unless in a
foreign war he should be called on to expose his
life in defence of his country. This determination
was immovable. It was his fault that his opinions and
his resolutions could not be changed. Knowing his
own firm purpose, he was indignant at the charge
that he sought for place or power. He was ambi-
tious only for glory, but he was deeply solicitous for
you. For himself lie feared nothing ; but he feared
that bad men might, by false professions, acquire
your confidence, and abuse it to your ruin.

Brethren of the Cincinnati — there lies our chief!
Let him still be our model. Like him, after long and
faithful public services, let us cheerfully perform the
social duties of private life. Oh ! he was mild and
gentle. In him there was no offence ; no guile.
His generous hand and heart were open to all.

Gentlemen of the bar — you have lost your bright-
est ornament. Cherish and imitate his example.
While, like him, with justifiable, and with laudable
zeal, you pursue the interests of your clients, remem-
ber, like him, the eternal principle of justice.

Fellow-citizens — you have long witnessed his pro-
fessional conduct, and felt his unrivalled eloquence.
You know how well he performed the duties of a
citizen — you know that he never courted your
favor by adulation or the sacrifice of his own
judgment. You have seen him contending against
you, and saving your dearest interests as it were, in
spite of yourselves. And you now feel and enjoy
the benefits resulting from the firm energy of his
conduct. Bear this testimony to the memory of my
departed friend. I charge you to protect his fame.
It is all he has left— all that these poor orphan chil-
dren will inherit from their father. But, my country-
men, that fame may be a rich treasure to you also.
Let it be the test by which to examine those who
solicit your favour. Disregarding professions, view
their conduct, and on a doubtful occasion ask, would
Hamilton have clone this tiling ?

You all know how he perished. On this last scene
I cannot, I must not dwell. It might excite emotions
too strong for your better judgment. Suffer not
your indignation to lead to any act which might
again offend the insulted majesty of the laws. On
his part, as from his lips, though with my voice —
for his voice you will hear no more — let me entreat
you to respect yourselves.

And now, ye ministers of the everlasting God, per-
form your holy office, and commit these ashes of our
departed brother to the bosom of the grave.

THE KESTOUATION OP THE BOURBONS — 1S14.

Tis done. The lo/ig agony is over. The Bour-
bons are restored. France reposes in the arms of

her legitimate prince. We may now express our
attachment to her consistently with the respect we
owe to ourselves. We recall to remembrance that
interesting period, when, in the fellowship of arms,
our souls were mingled at the convivial feast, and
our blood on the field of glory. We look, exulting,
at the plain of York. There French and American
troops contended, in generous strife, who first should
reach the goal of victory. There the contest for in-
dependence was closed. There was sealed our title
to be numbered among the nations.

Thank God, we can, at length, avow the senti-
ments of gratitude to that august family, under
whose sway the fleets and armies of France and
Spain were arrayed in defence of American liberty.
We then hailed Louis the Sixteenth protector of the
rights of mankind. We loved him. We deplored
his fate. We are unsullied by the embrace of his
assassins. Our wishes, our prayers, have accompa-
nied the loyal Spaniards in their struggle ; and we
blush that Americans were permitted to offer only
wishes and prayers.

******

This virtuous monarch, our friend in the hour of
danger, was the victim of his own goodness. Ar-
dently desirous to ameliorate the condition of sub-
jects for whom he felt the fondness of a father, lie
thought no sacrifice of power too great if he could
promote their felicity. He had been persuaded that
his prerogative, useless to him, was oppressive to
them. Dangerous error ! He had been told and
believed, that in their loyalty he had a perfect de-
fence against the intrigues of turbulent demagogues.
Fatal delusion! This just, this merciful prince, was
led to execution amid the insulting shouts of a fero-
cious mob. He was guarded by militia who felt hor-
ror at the office. The royal victim, collected in
himself, was occupied, during the long procession, in
beseeching the divine majesty to pardon his rebel-
lious subjects. But the stroke which severed from
the body his innocent head, cut them off from for-
giveness, until they should have expiated the crime
by lengthened years of misery. 0! it was a crime
against nature and against heaven. A murder most
foul and cruel. A deed at which fiends might have
wept. I was in Paris. I saw the gush of sorrow.
I heard the general groan. Every bosom anticipated
the sentence of an avenging God. It was like a second
fall of man. An awful scene of affliction, guilt, and
horror. All were humbled to the dust, save only
those who exulted, in screams of diabolic rapture,
at their success in driving an assembly over which
they tyrannized to this nefarious act.

******

On the same scaffold, condemned by the same
judges, perished Danton himself. He perished, con-
spiring to place the imprisoned son on the throne of
a father whom he had laboured to destroy. He be-
lieved that Louis the Sixteenth had been too much
disgraced to reign over a proud nation. Combining,
therefore, the courage of a hero with the energy of
a conspirator, and unrestrained by religion or mercy,
he determined to strike off the head which he thought
unfit for a crown. In the rapid march of fate his
own soon fell. Insulted with the semblance of trial,
convicted without proof, condemned unheard, he
roared in a voice of thunder, "I have been told, and
now believe, that the punishment of man is the
fruit of his crime. Wretches ! I gave you the pow-
er of dooming innocence to death, and I, by your
doom, must die. The same justice shall overtake
those who sent me here and you also." The voice
of the savage was prophetic.

352

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

This occasion does not require, neither will it per-
mit of, .1 history, or even the rapid recapitulation,
of important events. We have seen the tumults of
democracy terminate, in France, as they have every-
where terminated, in despotism. "What had been
foreseen and foretold, arrived. The power of usur-
pation was directed and maintained by great talents.
Gigantic schemes of conquest, prepared with deep
and dark intrigue, vast masses of force conducted
with consummate skill, a cold indifference to the
miseries of mankind, a profound contempt for moral
ties, a marble-hearted atheism, to which religion
was only apolitical instrument, and the stern perse-
vering will to bend everything to his purpose, were
the means of Napoleon to make himself the terror,
the wonder, and the scourge of nations. The gall-
ing of his iron yoke taught Frenchmen feelingly to
know how much they had lost in breaking the bands
of their allegiance. They had, indeed, to amuse
them, the pomp of triumph, the shout of victory,
and the consciousness of force which made the
neighboring nations groan. But the fruits of their
labour were wrested from them to gratify the extra-
vagance of vanity, or supply the waste of war.
Their children were torn from their bosoms, and
marched off in chains to the altar of impious, insa-
tiable ambition. Aged parents, who with trembling
step had followed to bid the last of many sons a fi-
nal, fond adieu, in returning to their cottage, once
the scene of humble happiness, but now stript by
remorseless collectors of everything which could be
sold, looking around in vain for the little objects to
which use and need had given value, and seeing
only the remnant of that loaf from which they had
taken their last meal, moistened with bitter tears,
turn their eyes to heaven, then, throwing themselves
in each other's arms, exclaim, my child ! my child !
Such, France, were thy sufferings. Thus was the
innocent blood of thy sovereign visited upon thee.
Frenchmen ! by these woes were you taught to feel
the present, the avenging God. It was this deep
agony which led you to declare to your sovereign's
brother, in the language of nature and truth, " Sir,
we bring you our hearts; the tyrant has left us
nothing else to give."

* * $ $ . # * *

At length, after many battles, the well-planned
movements of the allies obliged Napoleon to aban-
don Dresden. From that moment his position on
the Elbe was insecure. But pride had fixed him
there: perhaps, too, the same blind confidence in
fortune. His force was collected at Leipsie. Leipsic,
in the war of thirty years, had seen the great Gus-
tavus fall in the arms of victory. Leipsic again
witnessed a battle, on whose issue hung the inde-
pendence, not of Germany alone, but of every state
on the continent of Europe. Hard, long, and obsti-
nate, was the conflict. On both sides were displayed
an union of the rarest skill, discipline, and courage.
As the flood-tide waves of ocean, in approaching
the shore, rush, foam, thunder, break, retire, return
— so broke, retired, and returned the allied batta-
lions, impetuously propelled by the pressure of their
brethren in arms. And as the whelming flood, a
passage forced through the breach, rends, tears, scat-
ters, dissipates, and bears away its unnumbered
sands, so was the tyrant's host overwhelmed, scat-
tered, and borne away;

And now behold a scene sublime. Three mightv
monarehs lay down their crowns and swords. They
fall on their knees. Theyraise their eyes and hands
to heaven. They pour out thanksgiving to the God
of Battles. To him, the King of kings, sole, self-
existent, in whom alone is might, majesty, and do-
minion. With one voice they cry, " The Lord is

with, «s. Brother, the Lord is with tis. Glory be to
the Lord." Contrast this spectacle with that which
had been exhibited thirteen mouths before on the
plains of Russia.

******

Again the cannon roar. The long arches of the
Louvre tremble. The battle rages. The heights of
Montmartre are assailed. They are carried. The
allies look down, victorious, on the lofty domes and
spires of Paris. Lo! the capital of that nation
which dictated ignominious terms of peace in Vien-
na and Berlin ; the capital of that nation which
wrapt in flames the capital of the Czars, is in the
power of its foes. Their troops are in full inarch.
The flushed soldier may soon satiate his lust and glut
his vengeance. Bee before you, princes, the school
of that wildering philosophy which' undermined
your thrones. In those sumptuous palaces dwell
voluptuaries, who, professing philanthropy, love
only themselves. There recline, on couches of down,
those polished friends of man, who, revelling in the
bosom of delight, see with indifference a beggar
I perish, and calmly issue orders for the conflagration
! of cities and the pillage of kingdoms. Listen to the
voice of retributive justice. Throw loose the reins
of discipline. Cry havoc ! avenge! avenge! No —
Yonder is the white flag: Emblem of peace. It ap-
proaches. They supplicate mercy. Halt! Citizens
of America, what, on such an occasion, would Napo-
leon have done? Interrogate his conduct during
fifteen years of triumph. See this paragon of philo-
sophers spread ruin around him — his iron heart in-
sensible to pity — his ears deaf to the voice of reli-
gion and mercy. And liow see two Christian mo-
narehs, after granting pardon and protection, descend
from the heights of jVlontmartre and march through
the streets of that great city in peaceful triumph.
See, following them, half a million of men, women,
and children, who hail, with shouts of gratitude,
Alexander the deliverer. They literally kiss his feet.
And, like those of old, who approached the Saviour
of the world, they touch, in transport, the hem of
his garment and feel sanctified. He enters the tem-
ple of the living God. In humble imitation of his
divine master, he proclaims pardon and peace.
Those lips, which, victorious in the plain of Leipsic,
cried out Glory to God, now, again victorious, com-
plete the anthem of benediction. " Glory be to
God in the highest, and on earth peace. Good will
toward men." Let all nature join in the triumphant
song, Glory! glory! to God; and on earth peace.

That royal house now reigns. The Bourbons are
restored. Rejoice France! Spain! Portugal! You
are governed by your legitimate kings — Europe! re-
joice. The Bourbons are restored. The family of
nations is completed. Peace, the dove descending
from heaven, spreads over you her downy pinions.
Nations of Europe, ye are her brethren once more.
Embrace. Rejoice. And thou, too, my much
wronged country, my dear abused, self-murdered
country, bleeding as thou art, rejoice. The Bour-
bons are restored. Thy friends now reign. The
long agony is over. The Bourbons are restored.

ALEXANDER GRAYDON,

The author of a choice volume of personal and
revolutionary memoirs which has not been valued
as it deserves to be, in our American literature,
was a native of Pennsylvania, born in the then
village of Bristol, April'lO, 1752. His father was
an Irishman, who engaged in business in Phila-
delphia, where he was recognised in society as a
gentleman of spirit and literature. Alexander

ALEXANDER GRAYDOK

353

was educated at Philadelphia, and liad for his
preceptor a Scotchman, John Beveridge, whose
volume of Latin poems has already been no-
ticed in these pages.* The account of Gray-
don's school-boy days in the Memoirs is
minute and entertaining, and the interest in-
creases when he describes the characters at his
mother's boarding-house (after the death of his
father), among whom were Sir William Draper,t
DeKalb, and Rivington, the printer in New York,
who practised his theatrical heroics and u high
jinks " on the premises. The youthful follies of a
lad of spirit of the olden time are duly related
with the fashionable admiration of the day for
Lovelace in the novel of Richardson, who proba-
bly, with all his good intentions, made more rakes
than saints. Possessed of some knowledge of the
law at the age of twenty-three, when Congress
was raising troops for the service in 1775, he
received the appointment of Captain, and tra-
versed his state for recruits. He was soon in-
trusted with carrying a sum of money to Schuyler
at Lake George, a journey which furnishes him
some characteristic incidents for his narrative.
On his return he joined the forces at New York,
was at the retreat from Long Island, and was
taken a prisoner at the subsequent action on
Harlem heights. He was retained in New York,
where he met Ethan Allen, was then quartered
at Flatbush, where he appears to have passed the
time in observation of the inhabitants, anil whence
he was liberated on parole, when he passed through
the American camp at Morristown, and witnessed
at Washington's table the elegant manners of
Hamilton, finally establishing himself at Reading.
In 1778 he.was fully released in the exchange of
prisoners, and celebrated the event by marrying
Miss Wood of Berks county. From that time he.
was a spectator of the war and a student of the
manners and personages of the times. In 1785
he received from the government of his state an
appointment to the Prothonotaryship of the coun-
ty of Dauphin, and removed to Ilarrisburgh,
where lie remained in the enjoyment of his office
till he was removed by Gov. McKean, who
introduced his system of political decapitation on
his induction in 1799. Graydon then lived on a
small farm in the neighborhood of Ilarrisburgh,
from which out-of-the-way quarter he sent forth,
in 1811, his Memoirs of a Life, chiefly passed in
Pennsylvania, within the last sixty years ; with
Occasional Remarks upon the General Occurren-
ces, Character, and Spirit of that Eventful Pc-

riod.l In this form, in a small volume, on dingy

* Ante. p. 128.

t Sir William Draper was tbe correspondent of Junius.
Leaving England after this encounter be arrived at Charles-
ton, S. C„ in January, 17G9, and travelling to New York, mar-
ried Miss DeLancey, daughter of Governor DeLancey, of New
York. She died in 177S, when he was appointed Go'vernor of
Minorca.

X Printed by John Wyeth. 12mo. pp. 378.
vol. i. — 2:J

paper, one of the most entertaining works, illus-
trating a most important period of our history
and manners, written with frankness and scholar-
ship, and abounding with anecdote, was suffered to
languish in a feeble circulation, known for the most
part only to curious readers, till Mr. John Stock-
ton Littell reissued it in a second edition, with a
biographical preface and ample historical annota-
tions, including some valuable original notes by
the author. He has also divided the work into .
chapters with appropriate headings and an indis-
pensable index.* Besides its personal anecdotes,
it contains notices of many of the leading per-
sonages of the war, and in the latter portions
gives free expression to the anti-Jeffersonian sen-
timents of the author, for which he had sharp
motive in bis loss of office.

John Gait, the novelist, and a student of Ameri-
can affairs, thought so well of the work, attracted
by its anecdote and living portraits of the times,
that be caused it to be reprinted at Edinburgh in
1822 with a complimentary dedication which he
wrote, addressed to the American Minister at
London.

In 1813-1-t we find Graydon contributor of a
series of papers to the Port-Folio, entitled Notes
of a Desultory Reader, which include comments
upon the Classics and French ant! English literature
exhibiting a high order of cultivation. In 1816
he returned to Philadelphia with the intention of
improving his affairs by becoming a publisher,
but he died, May 2, 1818, before this could be
carried into effect.

In the Port-Folio for July of that year there is
a tribute to his memory, in which he is described
as having been a representative of " that old
school of accomplished gentlemen, which nou-
rished before our Revolution ; — at a period when
the courtesy of society was not disturbed by
insubordination in systems, nor violated by laxity
in sentiments," and in which the writer notices
"the elegance of his person, that he retained in
an uncommon degree to his latest hour."

One of his last acts had been to send to the
Port-Folio a translation of the Latin Epigram —

Avulsa e ramo, frons o miseranda, virenti,
Marcida quo vadis? — Quo vadam, nescio — Quoreum
Maternam columenque meurn stravere procellra.
Inde milu illudit Zephyrus, Boreasve; vagamque
Montibus ad valles, sylvis me volvit ad agros :
Nee contra nitor. Quo tendunt omnia tendo ;
Quo fertur pariter folium lauri rosajque.

Attempted in English.
Torn from thy nurturing branch, poor, fallen leaf,
What hapless lot awaits thy withering form?
Alas! I know not, but I mourn in chief,
My parent oak laid prostrate by the storm.

Hence doomed the sport of every vagrant breeze
I'm hurried up the mount, then down again;
One while I mildew under shading trees,
Now, whirl'd afield, I bleach upon the plain.

In short, I go where all things earthly tend,
And unresisting meet my wasting foes,

* The title is somewhat ehanped : Memoirs of Sis Own
Tlm<\ with Reminiscences of Vie Men and Events of the Itavo-
lidwn. By Alexander Graydon. Edited by John Stockton
Littell, Member of the Historical Society of Pennsylvania.
Philadelphia. Lindsay & Blakiston, 16-10. 8vo. pp. 504.

354

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

For oaks and bramble have one common end —
The foliage of the laurel and the rose.

BBITISH OFFICERS IN PHILADELPHIA BEFOBE THE EEVOLCTION.

But it was not alone by hostile alarms, that the
good people of Philadelphia were annoyed. Their
tranquillity had been likewise disturbed by the unciti-
zenlike conduct of a pair of British officers, who,
for want of something better to do, had plunged
themselves into an excess of intemperance; and in
the plenitude of wine and hilarity, paraded the
streets at all hours,

A la clartc de cieux dans 1' ombre de la nuit,
to the no small terror of the sober and the timid.
The firm of this duumvirate was Ogle and Friend,
names always coupled together, like those of Castor
and Pollux," or of Pyladcs and Orestes. But the
cement which connected them, was scarcely so pure
as that which had united those heroes of antiquity.
It could hardly be called friendship; but was rather
a confederacy in debauchery and riot, exemplified
in a never ending round of frolic and fun. It was
related of Ogle, that upon hiring a servant, he hfid
stipulated with him that he should never get drunk
but when his master was sober. But the fellow
some time after requested his discharge, giving for
his reason, that he had in truth no dislike to a social
glass himself, but it had so happened, that the terms
of the agreement had absolutely cut him off from
any chance of ever indulging his propensity.

Many are the pranks I have heard ascribed, either
conjointly or separately, to this par nobile fratrum.
That of Ogle's first appearance in Philadelphia, has
been thus related to me by Mr. Will Richards, the
apothecary, who, it is well known, was, from his
size and manner, as fine a figure for Falstaff as the
imagination can conceive. " One afternoon," said
he, " an officer in full regimentals, booted and
spurred, with a whip in his hand, spattered with
mud from top to toe, and reeling under the effects
of an overdose of liquor, made his entrance into the
coffee-house, in a box of which I was sitting, perus-
ing a newspaper. He was probably under the im-
pression, that every man he was to meet would be a
Quaker, and that a Quaker was no other than a
licensed Simon Pure for his amusement: for no
sooner had he entered, than throwir.g his arms
about the neck of Mr. Joshua Fisher with the excla-
mation of — "Ah, my dear Broadbrim, give me a
kiss," he began to slaver him most lovingly. As
Joshua was a good deal embarrassed hy the saluta-
tion, and wholly unable to parry the assault or
shake off the fond intruder, I interfered in his be-
half and effected a separation, when Ogle, turning
to me, cried out, ' Hah! my jolly fellow, give me a
smack of your fat chops,' and immediately fell to
hugging and kissing me, as he had done Fisher.
But instead of the coyness he had shown, I hugged
and kissed in my turn as hard as I was able, until
my weight at length brought Ogle to the floor, and
myself on top of him. Kevertheless, I kept kissing
away, until nearly mashed and suffocated, he ex-
claimed, ' for Heaven's sake let me up, let me up,
or you will smother me!' Having sufficiently tor-
mented him and avenged Joshua lisher, I permitted
him to rise, when he seemed a good deal sobered,
and finding that I was neither a Quaker nor wholly
ignorant of the world, he evinced some respect for
me, took a seat with me in a box, and entering into
conversation, soon discovered, that however he
might be disguised by intoxication, he well knew
what belonged to the character of a gentleman.
This," said Richards, " was the commencement of an
acquaintance between us ; and Captain Ogle some-

times called to see me, upon which occasions he
always behaved with the utmost propriety and de-
corum."

This same coffee-house, the only one indeed in the
city, was also the scene- of another affray by Ogle
and Friend, in conjunction. I know not what parti-
cular acts of mischief they had been guilty of, but
they were very drunk, and their conduct so ex-
tremely disquieting and insulting to the peaceable
citizens there assembled, that being no longer able
to endure it, it was judged expedient to commit
them; and Mr. Chew happening to be there, under-
took, in virtue probably of his office of recorder, to
write their commitment. But Ogle, facetiously
joggling his elbow, and interrupting him with a re-
petition of the pitiful interjection of " Ah, now, Mr.
Chew .'" he was driven from his gravity, and obliged
to throw away the pen. It was then taken up by

Alderman M n, with a determination to go

through with the business, when the culprits Teeling
round him, and Ogle in particular, hanging over his
shoulder and rending after him as he wrote, at
length, with irresistible effect, hit upon an unfortu-
nate oversight of the alderman. "Aye," says he,
" my father was a justice of peace too, but lie did
not spell that word as you do. I remember per-
fectly well, that instead of an 6 he always used to
spell circumstance with a C." This sarcastic thrust
at the scribe, entirely turned the tide in favor of the
rioters ; and the company being disarmed of their
resentment, the alderman had no disposition to pro-
voke farther criticism by going on with the jnittimus.
The irregularities of these gay rakes were not
more eccentric than diversified ; and the more ex-
travagant they could render them, the better. At
one time, they would drive full tilt through the
streets in a chair ; and upon one of these occasions,
on approaching a boom which had been thrown
across the street, in a part that was undergoing the
operation of paving, they lashed forward their
steed, and sousing against the spar with great vio-
lence, they were consequently hurled from their
seats, like Don Quixote in his temerarious assault of
the windmills. At another time, at Doctor Orme's
the apothecary, where Ogle lodged, they, in emula-
tion of the same mad hero at the puppet-show, laid
about them with their canes upon the defenceless
bottles and phials, at the same time assaulting a di-
minutive Maryland parson, whom, in their frolic,
they kicked from the street-door to the kitchen. He
was a fellow lodger of Ogle's ; and, to make him
some amends for the roughness of this usage, they
shortly after took him drunk to the dancing assem-
bly, where, through the instrumentality of this
unworthy son of the church, they contrived to
excite a notable hubbub. Though they had es-
caped, as already mentioned, at the coffee-house,
yet their repeated malfeasances had brought them
within the notice of the civil authority; and they
had more than once been in the clutches of the

mayor of the city. This was Mr. S , a small

man of a squat, bandy-legged figure; and hence, by
way of being revenged on him, they bribed a negro
with a precisely similar pair of legs, to carry him a
billet, which imported, that as the bearer had in
vain searched the town for a pair of hose that might
fit him, he now applied to his honour to be informed
' where he purchased HIS stockings.

I have been told that General Lee, when a cap-
tain in the British service, had got involved in this
| vortex of dissipation; and although afterwards so
strenuous an advocate for the civil rights of the
Americans, had been made to smart severely for
their violation, by the mayor's court of Philadel-
phia,

ALEXANDER GRAYDON.

355

The common observation, that when men become
soldiers they lose the character and feelings of citi-
zens, was amply illustrated by the general conduct
of the British officers in America. Their studied
contempt of the 7nohairs, by which term all those
who were not in uniform were distinguished, was
manifest on all occasions; and it is by no means im-
probable, that the disgust then excited, might have
more easily ripened into that harvest of discontent,
which subsequent injuries called forth, and which
terminated in a subduction of allegiance from the
parent land.

JAMES SMITH, OF PENNSYLVANIA, THE SIGNER OF THE DECLA-
EATION OF INDEPENDENCE.

Besides my fellow boarders there were several
young men in the town (York, Pa.), whose company
served to relieve the dreariness of my solitude ; for
such it was, compared with the scene from which
I had removed. These, for the most part, are yet
living, generally known and respected. There was
also in the place an oddity, who, though not to be
classed with its young men, I sometimes fell in with.
This was Mr. James Smith, the lawyer, then in con-
siderable practice. He was probably between forty
and fifty years of age, fond of his bottle and young
company, and possessed of an original species of
drollery. This, as may perhaps be said of all per-
sons in this way, consisted more in the manner than
the matter: for which reason, it is scarcely possi-
ble to convey a just notion of it to the reader. In
him it much depended 0:1. an uncouthncss of gesture,
a certain ludicrous cast of countenance, and a drawl-
ing mode of utterance, which, taken in conjunction
with his eccentric ideas, produced an effect irresis-
tibly comical ; though on an analysis it would be
difficult to decide, whether the man or the saying
most constituted the jest. The most trivial incident
from his mouth was stamped with his originality :
and in relating one evening how he had been dis-
turbed in his office by a cow, he gave inconceivable
zest to his narration, by his manner of telling how
she thrust her nose into the door, and there roared
like a Nimiidian lion. Like the picture of Garrick
between tragedy and comedy, his phiz exhibited a
struggle between tragedy and farce, in which the
latter seemed on the eve of predominating. With
a sufficiency of various reading to furnish him with
materials for ridiculous allusions and incongruous
combinations, he never was so successful as when he
could find a learned pedant to play upon : and of
all men, Judge Stedman, when mellow, was best
calculated for his butt. The judge was a Scotch-
man, a man of reading and erudition, though ex-
tremely magisterial and dogmatical in his cups.
This it was which gave point to the humor of
Smith, who, as if desirous of coming in for his share
of the glory, while Stedman was in full display of
his historical knowledge, never failed to set him
raving by some monstrous anachronism, such, for
instance, as "don't you remember, Mr. Stedman,
that terrible bloody battle which Alexander the
Great fought with the Russians near the Straits of
Babelmandel? " "What, sir!" said Stedman, re-
peating with the most ineffable contempt, " which
Alexander the Great fought with the Russians!
Where, mon, did you get your chronology?" "I
think you will find it recorded, Mr. Stedman, in
Thucydides or Herodotus." On another occasion,
being asked for his authority for some enormous
assertion, in which both space and time were fairly
annihilated, with unshaken gravity he replied, " I
am pretty sure I have seen an account of it, Mr.
Stedman, in a High Dutch almanac, printed at
Alcepo" his drawling way of pronouncing Aleppo.

While every one at tabic was holding his sides at
the expense of the judge, he, on his part, had no
doubt that Smith was the object of laughter, as he
was of his own unutterable disdain. Thus every
thing was as it should be, all parties were pleased ;
the laughers were highly tickled, the self-compla-
cency of the real dupe was flattered, and the sar-
castic vein of the pretended one gratified ; and this,
without the smallest suspicion on the part of Sted-
man, who, residing in Philadelphia, was ignorant of
Smith's character, and destitute of penetration to
develope it.

A PEISONEE OF WAK IN EXILE, AT FLATBtTSH.

Flat-bush was the place assigned for the officers
of our regiment, as well as those of Magaw's. Here
also, were stationed Colonels Miles, Atlee, Rawlings,
and Major Williams ; the indulgence of arranging
ourselves agreeably to our respective circles of ac-
quaintance having been granted by Mr. Lonng, of
whom, for my own part, I have nothing hard to say.
Mr. Forrest and myself were billeted on a Mr.
Jacob Suydam. His house was pretty large, con-
sisting of buildings which appeared to have been
erected at different times, the front and better part
of which was in the occupation of Mr. Thcophilact
Bache and his family, from New York. Though we
were in general civilly enough received, it cannot
be supposed that we were very welcome to our
Low Dutch hosts, whose habits of living were ex-
tremely parsimonious, and whose winter provision
was barely sufficient for themselves. Had they
been sure of receiving the two dollars a-week, it
might have reconciled them to the measure ; but
payment appeared to them to depend on the success
of our cause (Congress, or ourselves, being looked
upon as the paymasters), and its failure, in their
eyes, would in both eases induce a stoppage of pay-
ment. They were, however, a people who seemed
thoroughly disposed to submit to any power
which might be set over them ; and whatever might
have been their propensities or demonstrations at
an earlier stage of the contest, they were now the
dutiful and loyal subjects of His Majesty George the
Third; and entirely obedient to the behests of their
military masters in New York. As it was at the
instance of these that we were saddled upon them,
they received us with the best grace they could put
on. Their houses and beds were found clean, but
their living extremely poor, and well calculated to
teach the luxurious, how infinitely less than their
pampered appetites require, is essential to the suste-
natiou of life. In the apostrophe of Lucan,

O prodiga rerum,
Luxuries, nunqnam parvo contenta paratu,
Et quiesitorum terra pelagoq-ne ciborum
Ambitiosa fames, et lautse gloria mensa; !
Discite quam parvo liceat producere vitam.

Thus translated by Rowe :

Behold! ye sons of luxury, behold!
Who scatter in excess your lavish gold;
You who the wealth of frugal ages waste,
T" indulge a wanton supercilious taste ;
For whom all earth, all ocean are explnr'd
To spread the various proud voluptuous board,
Behold 1 how little thrifty nature craves.

A sorry wash, made up of a sprinkling of bohea,
and the darkest sugar on the verge of fluidity, with
half-baked bread, fuel being among the scarcest
articles at Flat-bush, and a little stale butter, con-
stituted our breakfast. At our first coming, a smail
piece of pickled beef was occasionally boiled for
dinner, but, to the beef which wns soon consumed,
succeeded clippers or clams, and our unvaried supper
was snpon or mush, sometimes with skimmed milk,
but more generally with buttermilk blended with

356

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

molasses, which was kept for weeks in a elmrn, as
swill is saved for hogs. I found it, however, after a
little use, very eatable ; and supper soon became
my best meal. The table company consisted of the
master of the house, Mr. Jacob Snydarn, an old
bachelor, a young man, a shoemaker of the name of
Pen; Hagerman, married to Jacob's niece, who, with
a mewling infant in her arms, never failed to appear.
A black boy, too, was generally in the room, not as
a waiter, but as a 'kind of enfant de maison, who
walked about or took post in the chimney corner
with his hat on, and occasionally joined in the con-
versation. It is probable, that but for us, he would
have been placed at the table ; and that it had been
the custom before we came. Certain it is, that the
idea of equality was more fully and fairly acted
upon in this house of a British subject than ever I
have seen it practised by the most vehement de-
claimed for the rights of mau among ourselves. It
is but fair, however, to mention, that I have never
been among our transcendent republicans of Virgi-
nia, and her dependencies. But notwithstanding
some unpleasant circumstances in our establishment,
every member of the family, the black fellow, to
whom we had been the cause of some" privations,
excepted, was exceedingly courteous and accommo-
dating. Rem Hagerman, and Yonichy, his wife,
gave themselves no airs ; nor was our harmony
with uncle Jacob ever interrupted, but on a single
occasion, when, soured a little by I know not what
provocation, he made a show of knocking down
Forrest with a pair of yarn stockings he had just
drawn from his legs, as he sat in the chimney-corner
one evening preparing for bed. It was, indeed,
but an offer, though it might, for aught I know,
have amounted to an assault in law, as Jacob was
not so far from the person menaced, but that the
feet of the stockings, if held by the other extremity,
and projected from an extended arm, might possibly
have reached him ; and a pair of long-worn yarn
stockings, might, from daily alluvian, have acquired
somewhat of the properties of a cudgel. But mo-
ments of peevishness were allowable to our host ;
since, though we had for some time been consuming
his provisions, he had never seen a penny of our
money, and it was somewhat doubtful, to s:iy the
truth, whether he ever would ; for, considering the
contractors for our boarding liable for it, we never
thought of paying it ourselves. As the Low Dutch
are a people little known in Pennsylvania, and
more especially, as it is my avowed intention to ad-
vert to the character of the time, this sketch of their
domestic economy and manners may not be thought
impertinent. In a word, from what I saw of them
on Long Island, I was led to consider them as a
people, quiet and inoffensive beyond any I had seen;
such, from whom no enthusiastic efforts, either of
good or evil tendency, were to be looked for; who
were neither prolific of Catos nor Catilines ; and
who, had they been the sole occupants of this great
continent of ours, would still have been colonists,
and never known what it was to be independent re-
publicans. Their religious, like their other habits,
were unostentatious and plain ; and a silent grace *

* Mrs. Grant, in her " Memoirs of an American Lady."
speaking of the state of religion among the settlers about
Albany, says, "Their religion, like their original rational cha-
racter, had in it little of fervor or enthusiasm ; their manner
of performing religious duties was regular and decent, but
calm, and to more ardent imaginations might appear mechani-
cal. iNone ever doubted of the great truths of revelation, yet
few seemed to dwell on the result with that lively delight
which devotion produces in minds of keener sensibility. If
their piety, however, was without enthusiasm, it was also
without bigotry; they wished others to think as they did,
without showing rancour or contempt towards those who did

before meat, prevailed at the table of Jacob Suydam.
When we were all seated, he suddenly clasped his
hands together, threw his head on one side, closed
his eyes, and remained mute and motionless for
about a minute. His niece and nephew followed his
example ; but with such an eager solicitude that the
copied attitude should be prompt and simultaneous,
as to give an air of absurdity to what might other-
wise have been very decent. Although little of the
vernacular accent remained on the tongue of these
people, they had some peculiarities in their phrase-
ology. Among these, instead of asking you to sit,
or sit down to table, they invited you to sit by ;
:and this I even observed in General Schuyler, when
I was at Lake George. It might be asked by a
stickling New Yorker, if " sit by" is not as proper,
and even more so, than " sit down," which, in strict-
ness, is a redundancy.

OEATOKY. — FEOM NOTES OF A DESTTLTOEY EEADEE.

Ben Jonson thus speaks of the eloquence of Lord
Bacon: "There happened in my time one noble
speaker (Lord A7"erulam) who was full of gravity in
his speaking. His language, where he could spare
or pass by a jest, was nobly censorious. No man
ever spake more neatly, more prestly, more weightily,
or suffered less emptiness, less idleness in what he
uttered. No member of his speech but consisted of
his own graces. His hearers could not cough or look
aside from him without loss. He commanded where
he spoke ; and had his judges aDgry or pleased at his
devotion. The fear of every one that heard him was,
lest he should make an end."

This is certainly high praise ; but there has been
no time or place, perhaps, in which eloquent men
have not appeared, upon whom some of their cotem-
poraries might not be disposed to pass an equally
lofty panegyric. The parliamentary oratory of
Lord Bolingbroke has been extolled as unrivalled :
so, in later times, have been the speeches of Lords
Chatham and Mansfield by their respective friends ;
and still more recently, those of Burke, Pitt, Fox,
Sheridan, Erskine, and Curran.

It seems to be matter of just regret, that we have
no method of perpetuating the merit of those who
have excelled in this captivating art. The genius of
the writer is displayed in his works ; that of the
painter in his pictures ; that of the composer of music
in the note-book which records the " concords of
sweet sounds," of which he has been the eliciter or
combiner. But, if even the words of the orator are
preserved, his manner, his voice, his tones, his looks,
his gestures, are lost to future ages ; and the circum-
stances which constitute the essence of his art, his
action, never go down to posterity. Hence it is that
the comparative excellence of Demosthenes and Ci-
cero, and that of the other great names which have
been mentioned, cannot be estimated; and for the
same reason, no scale can be established whereby to
determine the relative merits of the " well graced
actors," of past times with those of the present, or
one with the other, of those who have left the scene.
Whether, therefore, with due allowance for na-
tional manners and tastes, Le Kain and Clairon of
the French stage, were superior to Garrick and Sid-
dons of the English ; or whether Betterton, the para-
gon of his day, was superior, or in any degree com-
parable to Garrick, the paragon of his, must ever
remain a mere matter of conjecture, as probably it

not. In many individuals, whose lives seemed governed by
the principles of religion, the spirit of devotion seemed to be
quiescent in the heart, and to break forth in exigencies; yet
that monster in nature, an impious woman, was never heaid
of amoDg them."

TIMOTHY DWIGHT.

357

WOtil<3 be of dispute were they all alive and mar-
shalled for comparison before the most exquisitely
refilled audience that ever crowded a theatre.

But it is further to be remarked, that there is a
fashion in these things, as in all others that are the
objects of taste; and that what is called a new
school is nothing more than a new fashion, which
puts down an old one. They who will not accede
to this, but insist that every innovation is an improve-
ment, are advocates for human perfectibility, or at
least for man's continued progression towards per-
fection— a doctrine in which, however well disposed
to acquiesce in the orthodoxy of new schools, and
new modes, and new fashions, I must profess myself
a sceptic. Hence, though I might be disposed to
believe that Garriek was a better actor than any of
his predecessors, that belief would not be at all
founded on the circumstance of his coining after
them. This celebrated performer has indeed the
credit of correcting some of the acknowledged er-
rors of the English stage, particularly the starch and
formal manner of its declamation ; and a similar re-
form, we are told by Marmontel, was, through his
suggestion, effected by Clairon in France. But there
may be room for doubting whether, by Garriek, the
innovation was not carried too far, since it lias been
said, that the poetry of English tragedy, from the
adoption of his manner, has been utterly disregarded
through an extreme sedulity to eop3? nature : For,
without recurring to Voltaire's strong illustration of
neahmoins je ports les culotte.% I take it for granted
it will be ceded; that tragedy should be written in
verse, and that the heroes of this sort of drama
should continue to mouth heroics, the natural pro-
pensity of human beings to hold discourses in humble
prose notwithstanding.

NOVELS.

No one, I believe, reads less for the sake of a story
than myself; of course, I am but a poor novel reader,
and never complain that Tristram Shandy has no
story at all. In a book I look for thought, senti-
ment, language, humour, wit, and sometimes instruc-
tion ; if it has these I care little for the tale; though
no doubt where this is the main object it ought to be
a good one. But, of all things, in a novel or play,
I hate a series of perplexities and cross accidents;
for which reason, however admiring Miss Barney's
talent for painting life and drawing characters, I
always get out of patience with her at the winding
up of her plots, as then it is she never fails to pelt
her poor hero or heroine with a tempest of unforeseen
and distressing occurrences. When the reader, good
easy man or woman, fancies that all difficulties at
length are over, and is ready to join in congratula-
tions with the wedding guests, already invited or
about to be invited, there comes a frost, a nipping
frost, and the already opening buds of connubial
felicity are thrown back to undergo the process of a
new vegetation.

But, of all productions, the most monstrous in my
eyes are those in which fiction is engrafted on history.
Let me have fact or fable, but not a preposterous
mixture of both. There are many, however, who
think differently, and I am by no means disposed to
impugn the correctness of their opinion. Let each
enjoy his own. De gustibus non est disputandum.

TIMOTHY DWIGHT.
The first American ancestor of Timothy Dwiglit
eame from Dedham, England, to Dedham, Mas-
sachusetts, in 1637. Five generations intervened
when the poet and theologian of the name was
born, in the oldest male line, at Northampton,
Mass., May li, 1752. His father was a mer-

chant of the town and a graduate of Yale ; his
mother was the third daughter of the metaphy-
sician Jonathan Edwards — so Dwight came in
regular succession to his future reputation, and
lie probably owed much of it directly to this lady,
for lie received his early education at home. His
mother taught him the alphabet in one lesson, and
he read the Bible when he was but four years of
age. Latin ho studied by himself at six, and
would have been ready for college at eight, had
not his school been discontinued when he came
home to learn his favorite studies of geography
and history from his mother. He entered Yale
College when he was thirteen, in 1765, where for
the first two years, it is said by one of his biogra-
phers, that, " through the folly of youth much of
his time was misspent," a statement which is
explained by an intimation from another biogra-
pher that gambling was a vice of the place, and
that Dwight, though he played for amusement
and never for money, let the sport engross too
much of his time. At fifteen, however, he took
up study in earnest, occupying fourteen hours a
day with his books. He was graduated in 1769,
ami for two years was a teacher at New Haven,
still continuing his studies. Ho then became a
tutor in his college when he was nineteen, and
began the composition of his poem the Conquest of
Canaan. It was finished within three years,
though not published till the conclusion of the
Revolutionary war gave literature a hearing in
1785, when it appeared with a dedication to
Washington. It was reprinted by J. Johnson, in
London, in 1788. Dwight taught mathematics,
rhetoric, and oratory, in the college for six years.
His theme on taking his mastership of arts, was
The History, Eloquence, and Poetry of tko Bible,
an oration, which was published at the time,*

* A Dissertation on the History, Eloquence, and Poetry of
the Bible, delivered at the Public Commencement at New
Haven. New Haven : Thos. & Sam. Green. 1772. 8vo. pp. 16.

358

CYCLOP JiDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

and greatly advanced his reputation by its glow-
ing declamation. It has a warm tribute to the
eloquence of St. Paul, and instances the noble
literature of the Old Testament in the Book of
Job, the perfect example of the ode in the one
hundred and fourth P^alm, and the beauties of
others, particularly the eighteenth, where " the
poet's imagination rises to such a height as Pin-
dar, Dryden, and. Gray must look up to with as-
tonishment and despair."

Dwight returned to Northampton to recruit
his health wasted by study, and establish a con-
stitution which remained unimpaired till he was
more than sixty. In 1777 he was married to
the daughter of an old college companion of his
father, Benjamin Woolsey, of Long Island; and
the same year being licenced to preach, his services
were accepted as chaplain in the army, which he
joined at West Point, in which national atmo-
sphere, at that national moment, he wrote his fa-
mous song of Columbia, which was received with
enthusiasm, was published in all the popular col-
lections, and has not lost its place in similar quar-
ters since. Though somewhat ornate, its spirit
and success are not to be questioned. He was
with the arm}* a year when his lather's death re-
called him to the family at Northampton, where
for five j-ears he labored, as preacher and farmer,
for their support. He was a member of the state
legislature in 1781, and his popularity would have
detained him in civil life had lie not deliberately
preferred the ministry, the duties of which he ac-
cepted at Greenfield, Ct., in 1783, and discharged
in the tame place for twelve years, adding to his
small stipend of five hundred dollars per annum
by the profits of an academy. His poem Green-
field Hill, inspired by the neighborhood, ap-
peared in 17t)4, with a dedication to John Ad-
ams,* and with its predecessor it was republished
in England.

The next year Dwight was chosen to succeed
Dr. Stiles in the presidency of Yale College, a
post which he filled till his death, twenty-one
years after. The chief literary fruits of his new
college life were the series of divinity discourses
delivered by him to the students,,and which were
published after his death, in five volumes, with
the title, Theology; Explained and Defended:
a work which has exercised an important influ-
ence in the congregational denomination of which
it is the exponent, has been widely circulated in
England, and which has been greatly admired by
the author's friends for " its philosophical arrange-
ment, its luminous reasonings, its bold and lofty
eloquence, and the ability wdiich it evinces to em-
ploy different faculties with the best effect, and
to do everything in an exceedingly graceful and
perfect manner.''!

In the year 1800 he revised Watts's Psalms, at
the request of the General Association of Con-
necticut, adding translations of his own, which
Watts had not attempted, and annexing a selec-

* Greenfield Hill : a Poem in Seven Parts. I. The Pros-
pect. II. The Flourishing Village. III. The BurniDgof Fair-
field. IV. The Destruction of the Pequods. V. The Clergy-
man's Advice to the Villagers. VI. The Farmer's Advice to
the Villagers. VII. The Vision ; or. Prospect of the Future
Happiness of America. By Timothy Dwight, D.D. New
York : Printed by Childs &°SwaiDe, 1794. 8vo. pp. 188.

t Dr. William B. Sprague's Life of Dwight. Sparks' s Am.
Biog., Second Series, vol. iv.

tion of Hymns; both of which were approved of
and adopted by the General Assembly of the
Presbyterian Church. As a favorable specimen
of his execution in this fine, the version of the
one hundred and thirty-seventh Psalm, which
Joel Barlow had previously as well succeeded
with, may be instanced : —

/"

PSALM exxxvxr.
I love thy kingdom, Lord,
The house of thine abode,
The church, our blest Redeemer sav'd
With his own precious blood.

I love thy Church, 0 God !
Her walls before the"e stand,
Dear as the apple of thine eye,
And graven on thy hand.

If e'er to bless thy sons
My voice, or hands, deny,
These hands let useful skill forsake,
This voice in silence die.

If e'er my heart forget
Her welfare, or her wo,
Let every joy this heart forsake,
And every grief o'erflow.

For her my tears shall fall ;
For her my prayers ascend ;
To her my cares and toils be given,
'Till toils and cares shall end.

Beyond my highest joy
I prize her heavenly waj's,
Her sweet communion, solemn vows.
Her hymns of love and praise.

Jesus, thou Friend divine,
Our Saviour and our King,
Thy hand from every snare and foe
Shall great deliverance bring.

Sure as thy truth shall last,
To Zion shall be given
The brightest glories, earth can yield,
And brighter bliss of heaven.

This has been adopted, beyond the limits of
Dwight's own denomination, in the Hymn-book
of the Protestant Episcopal Church.

His vacations for the whole of his presidency
were passed in travelling excursions, when travel-
ling, before the days of the locomotives, was a
quiet, leisurely individual affair, which led into
by-places, was inquisitive of nature, gave country
landlords an opportunity to exhibit themselves,
and time was afforded to see the local great men on
the way,* as he journied through the neighboring
states of New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Rhode
Island, and New York. He visited the White
Mountains, Lake George, Montauk, Niagara, the
Kaatskills, and various other localities, keeping
notes of his journeys, written out in the form of
letters, which compose the series published in

* Dennie's Farmer^ Mimeum, at "Walpole, contains a pass-
ing newspaper benediction on one of these pilgrimages, Sep-
tember 25. 1797. "This morning, tile truly respectable Presi-
dent of Yale College proceeded from this village on a journey
to the Upper Coos; whence, we understand, he intends passing
over the White Mountains to Hallowell, in the district of Maine.
His rugged tour will, we hope, be relieved by those civilities
which are due to the gentleman, the scholar, and the ui.affccu-J
Christian."

TIMOTHY DWIGHT.

350-

1821, after his death, of Travels in New England
and New Tori. Southey, who saw in the four
well filled volumes admirable material for the his-
tory of a new state, what Miss Martineau has
since called " world maMng," in the natural his-
tor}' observations, the sketches of Indian life, the
notices of education, domestic manners, and social
progress, pronounces this " the most important of
Dwight's writings, a work which will derive
additional value from time, whatever may become
of his poetr}' and of his sermons."*

Dwight's House in New Haven.

In 1816 Dwight was seized with the illness —
an alarming affection of the bladder — which,
though it was partially relieved by a surgical ope-
ration, caused his death the year after, January
11, 1817, in his sixty-fifth year. He employed
the last months of his life in compositions on tho
evidences of revelation, and in the completion of
a poem of fifteen hundred lines, the description
of a contest between Genius and Common Sense.

The personal influence of Dwight should not
be overlooked in an estimate of his position. He
appears to have been "every inch" a president.
His popularity with the students was unbounded,
and was maintained by no sacrifice of self-
respect, for Dwight was always courtly and dig-
nified. A lady, who saw him in her youth, when
he visited an old college companion, her father,
the Rev. Joseph Buckminster, Mrs. Lee, says that
when he entered the humble parsonage, he ap-
peared to her youthful observation to possess " the
lofty politeness, the priestly dignity of the Bishop
of London, as made known by the pen of Han-
nah More.''t The portrait by Trumbull exhibits

* The Quarterly Review, Oct. 1828, Art. i.

+ Memoirs of the Kev. Joseph Buckminster, by Eliza Buck-
minster Lee. Dr. Sprague, in his Memoir in Sparks's series,
describes his form as "stately and majestic, and every way well
proportioned. His features were regular, his eye black and
piercing, yet benignant, and his countenance altogether indi-
cative of a high order of mind. Ills voice was rich and melo-
dious, adapted alike to music and oratory.'1 An incidental trait
is in accordance with this description. His hand-writing was
so elegant that there are portions of it which cannot readily he
distinguished from the finest copper-plate engraving. One of
the very last acts of bis life, in his dying hours, was an exhibi-
tion of gentlemanly courtesy. His family around him, dis-
tracted by their grief, had failed to notice two ladies who came
to visit him. He spoke to them, and directed one of his chil-
dren to "hand chairs." It was, as Dr. Sprague, who has pre-
served the anecdote, remarks, "the instinctive prompting of
that inwrought sense of propriety that had constituted through
life a leading element both of bis popularity and usefulness.

this ease and self-command, which was built up
upon some noble traits of character, a sense of
duty, a higher order of industry, and an ardent
fire of genius in youth. In Dwight's early poems
we see a heat of honest enthusiasm sufficient to
warm the faculties through life. These produc-
tions have been hardly dealt with. They are
worth something more than to furnish a dull jest
at epic failures. The Conquest of Canaan, it
should be remembered, was the production of a
youth hardly out of college, and should be looked
tit as a series of poetic sketches, not over nice in
rhetorical treatment or obedience to the laws of
Aristotle. In that view it contains much pleasing
writing, but the word epic should never be brought
in contact with it. His biographer thinks its re-
ception was marred by the general prevalence of
infidelity at the time of its publication.* If so,
the injury may have been somewhat abated by
the appearance, soon after, of the Triumph of
Infidelity, an anonymous poem from his pen,
which dealt some trenchant blows at scoffers in
high places. But the truth is, that no amount of
religious belief held in its utmost purity can en-
tirely overcome the indifference of readers as they
make their way through the long monotonous pages
of the Conquest of Canaan. The lines are sound-
ing in couplets ; the caesura gives breath and the
rhymes ring well, but little impression is made
upon tho mind. The characters are too little dis-
criminated, and the maimers have too little exact-
ness to fix the attention. The warriors are nu-
merous, and one warrior is like another. The
lovers, Irad and Sclima, are exemplary; one is
brave and the other virtuous, but their conversa-
tion is tedious. The action has not the merit of
a close adherence to the original ; so history is
damaged without poetry being much the gainer.
The interpolations of the combats of the Ameri-
can Revolution in the wars of the Israelites had,
doubtless, a sound patriotic intention, but would
be fatal to a better poem. Yet we may find many
vigorous passages in the volume, which show a
fine glow of the imagination. The similes are
numerous, and many of them are striking. He
thus treats Niagara in a comparison of the onset
of battle: —

Mean time from distant guards a cry ascends,
And round the camp the dinning voice extends;
Th' alarming trump resounds ; the martial train
Pour from the teuts, and crowd th' accustom'd plain,
In mazy "wanderings, thickening, darkening, roll,
Fill all the field, and shade the boundless pole.
As where proud Erie winds her narrowing shores,
And o'er huge hills a boiling ocean pours,
The long white-sheeted foam, with fury hurl'd,
Down the cliffs thundering, shakes the stable world.
In solemn grandeur clouds of mist arise,
Top the tall pines, and heavy seek the skies:
So spread the volumes of the dust afar;
So roar the clamors of commeucing war.

This prophetic passage, in which the author
evidently has America in view, may boast at least
one fine couplet : — •

Then o'er wide lands, as blissful Eden bright,
Tj'pe of the skies, and seats of pure delight,

* Memoirs of the Life of tho Author, prefixed to the The-
ology.

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CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

Our sons, -with prosperous course, shall stretch their

sway,
And claim an empire, spread from sea to sea:
In one great whole th' harmonious tribes combine ;
Trace Justice' path, and choose their chiefs divine;
On Freedom's base erect the heavenly plan;
Teach laws to reign, and save the rights of man.
Then smiling Art shall wrap the fields in bloom,
Fine the rich ore, and guide the useful loom ;
Then lofty towers in golden pomp arise ;
Then spiry cities meet auspicious skies:
The 60ul on Wisdom's wing sublimely soar,
New virtues cherish, and new truths explore:
Thro' time's long tract our name celestial run,
Climb in the cast, and circle with the sun ; "
And smiling Glory stretch triumphant wings
O'er hosts of heroes, and o'er tribes of kings.

The birds crowning the jubilee of returning
day after a storm are introduced with beauty in
the following scene, which glitters with sun-
shine:—

Then gentler scenes his rapt attention g.iin'd,
Where Goo's great hand in clear effulgence reign'd,
The growing beauties of the solemn even,
And all the bright sublimities of heaven.
Above tall western hills, the light of day
Shot far the splendors of his golden ray ;
Bright from the storm, with tenfold grace he smil'd,
The tumult soften'd and the world grew mild.
With pomp transcendnnt, rob'd in heavenly dyes,
Arch'd the clear rainbow round the orient skies;
Its changeless form, its hues of beam divine,
Fair type of truth, and beauty endless shine,
Around th' expanse, with thousand splendors rare ;
Gay clouds sail'd wanton through the kindling air;
From shade to shade, unnumber'd tinctures blend ;
Unnumber'd forms of wondrous light extend;
In pride stupendous, glittering Avails aspire,
Grac'd with bright domes, and crown'd with towers

of fire.
On cliffs cliffs burn ; o'er mountains mountains roll :
A burst of glory spreads from pole to pole:
Rapt with the splendor, every songster sings,
Tops the high bough, and claps his glistening wings:
With new-born green, reviving nature blooms,
And sweeter fragrance freshening air perfumes.

The gentle Cowper, who wrote a favorable
critique on the poem in the Analytical Review,*
notices this description of Night as "highly
poetical."

Now Night, in vestments rob'd, of cloudy dye,
With sable grandeur cloth'd the orient sky,
Impell'd the sun, obsequious to her reign,
Down the far mountains to the western main;
With magic hand, beealm'd the solemn even,
And drew day's curtain from the spangled heaven.
At once the planets sail'd around the throne:
At once ten thousand worlds in splendor shone:
Behind her car, the moon's expanded eye
Rose from a cloud, and look'd around the sky:
Far up th' immense her train sublimely roll,
And dance, and triumph, round the lucid pole.
Faint shine the fields, beneath the shadowy ray:
Slow fades the glimmering of the west away ;
To sleep the tribes retire ; and not a sound
Flows through the air, or murmurs on the ground.

There is a glowing picture of the millennium.
Indeed, the reader is oppressed by the uniform

* Southey's Works of Cowper, Ed. 1S26, vii. 314.

eloquence of the description. It is too florid.
The natural powers of the writer appear in the
poem, injured by the study of Pope's declamatory
pieces.

It is said to have been at the suggestion of the
poet Trumbull, his fellow tutor at the time in the
college, that Dwight wrote the animated descrip-
tion of the battle lighted by the burning city of
Ai, in the seventh book. The author of M'Fingal
had another hint in his own humorous way for the
laborious young poet. In allusion to the number
of thunder-storms described in the portion of the
poem handed him to read, he requested that when
he sent in the remainder, a lightning rod might be
included.

Dwight's literary compositions are represented
by two leading ideas — his religion and his patriot-
ism. The former is sustained in his Theology and
in his Triumph of Infidelity, and in some line pas-
sages in Greenfield Hill ; the latter in his remarks
on the Review of Inehiquin's Letters, and in many
pages of his travels. In the poem on Infidelity,
and his passage with the Quarterly Review, he
does not mince matters, but shows the hand of a
bold vigorous pamphleteer. The Triumph of Infi-
delity ; a Poem. Printed in the World, 1788 :
was sent forth with no other title. It is an octa-
vo of forty pages, levelled at the unbelieving
spirit of the century then drawing to its close. It
is dedicated to Mods, de Voltaire : " Sir, your
Creator endued you with shining talents, and cast
your lot in a field of action, where they might be
most happily employed: In the progress of a long
and industrious life, you devoted them to a single
purpose, the elevation of your character above
his. For the accomplishment of this purpose,
with a diligence and uniformity which would have
adorned the most virtuous pursuits, you opposed
truth, religion, and their authors, with sophistry,
contempt, and obloquy ; and taught, as far as
your example or sentiments extended their influ-
ence, that the chief end of man was, to slander his
God, and abuse him for ever. To whom could
such an effort as the following he dedicated, with
more propriety than to you."

The satire is full of indignation ; with more
polish, it could not fail to have become widely
celebrated. Here are a few of its strong lines : —

THE SMOOTH DIVTNE.

There smil'd the smooth Divine, unus'd to wound

The sinner's heart, with hell's alarming sound.

No terrors on bis gentle tongue attend;

No grating truths the nicest ear offend.

That strange new-birth, that inethodistic grace,

Nor in bis heart, nor sermons found a place.

Plato's fine tales he clumsily retold,

Trite, fireside, moral seesaws, dull as old ;

His Christ, and bible, plac'd at good remove,

Guilt hell-deserving, and forgiving love.

'Twas best, he said, mankind should cease to sin;

Good fame requir'd it; so did peace within:

Their honours, well he knew, would ne'er be driven.

But hop'd they still would please to go to heaven.

Each week, he paid his visitation dues ;

CoaxM, jested, laugh'd; rehears'd the private news;

Smoak'd with each goody, thought her cheese ex-

cell'd ;
Her pipe he lighted, and her baby held.
Or plac'd in some great town, with laequer'd shoes,
Trim wig, and trimmer gown, and glistening hose.

TIMOTHY WIGHT.

3G1

He bow'd, talk'd politics, learn'd manners mild ;
Most meekly questioned, and most smoothly smil'd ;
At rich men's jests laugh' d loud, their stories prais'd ;
Their wives' new patterns gaz'd, and gaz'd, and

gaz'd ;
Most daintily on pamper'd turkies din'd;
Nor shrunk with fasting, nor with study pin'd :
Yet from their churches saw his brethren driven,
Who thunder'd truth, and spoke the voice of heaven,
Chill'd trembling guilt, in Satan's headlong path,
Charm'd the feet back, and rous'd the ear of death.
"Let fools," lie cried, " starve on, while prudent I
Snug in my nest shall live, and snug shall die."*

The picture of the good divine in Greenfield
Hill, the opposite of this rough outline, is highly
pleasing.

When the malignant review of Inchiquin's Let-
ters appeared in the (London) Quarterly for Jan.
1814, its bitterness and contempt were so unspar-
ing and its falsehood so gross, that Dwight, though
its abuse was partly directed against Jefferson and
others whom he did not hold in particular favor,
thought it necessary to reply. His work, an oc-
tavo of one hundred and seventy-six pages, was
entitled, Remarks on the Review of IncMquirfs
Letters, published in the Quarterly Review ; ad-
dressed to the Right Honorable George Canning,
Esq., by an Inhabitant of New England ; and was
published in Boston in 1815. It carries the war
into Africa, contrasting every defect urged against
America with a corresponding iniquity in Eng-
land, and exonerating his countrymen from many
of the charges as utterly unfounded. It meets
the reviler with language as loud and with facts
severer than his own. It shows that under his
polished exterior the fires of his youth still glowed
in the college President.

Greenfield Hill is an idyllic poem of rare merit.
A little more nicety of execution and a better
comprehension of the design at the outset, would
doubtless have improved it ; but the spirit is
there. It is noticeable that it was undertaken as
an imitation or adaptation of different English
poets ; but the author found the labor of pursuing
this plan too great, and fell off, or rather rose to
original invention. This has often happened in
English literature, and some of the best successes
are due to this effort, which the genius of the
writer has soon transcended ; as in the Castle of
Indolence and the Splendid Shilling, to which
may be added Trumbull's M'Fingal. Thus Dwight,
commencing with Beattie and Goldsmith, soon
runs into measures and incidents of his own ; or
turns the contrast of American manners to happy
account, as in his picture of " the Flourishing Vil-
lage" of Greenfield, where he finds in theallot-
ment of estates and the absence of manorial pri-
vileges, the opposite of " the Deserted Village."
The general plan of the poem is thus sketched by
the author in his " Introduction :" —

In the Parish of Greenfield, in the town of Fair-
field, in Connecticut, there'is a pleasant and beauti-
ful eminence, called Greenfield Hill ; at the distance
of three miles from Long Island Sound. On this
eminence, there is a small but handsome village, a
church, academy, <fee., all of them alluded to in the fol-

* The Triumph of Infidelity was never acknowledged bv the
author, but never denied by him. It was well understood to
be from his pen.

lowing poem. From the highest part of the eminence,
the eye is presented with an extensive and delight-
ful prospect of the surrounding country, and of the
Sound. On this height, the writer is supposed to
stand. The first object, there offering itself to his
view, is the landscape ; which is accordingly made
the governing subject of the first part of the Poem.
The flourishing and happy condition of the inhabit-
ants very naturally suggested itself next ; and be-
came of course the subject of the Second Part. The
town of Fairfield, lying in full view, and, not long
before the poem wa3 begun and in a great measure
written out, burnt by a party of British troops, un-
der the command of Governor Trvon, furnished the
theme of the Third Part. A field, called the Pe-
quod Swamp, in which most of the warriors of that
nation who survived the invasion of their country
by Capt. Mason, were destroyed, lying about three
miles from the eminence above-mentioned, and on the
margin of the Sound, suggested, not unnaturally, the
subject of the Fourth Part.

As the writer is the minister of Greenfield, he can-
not be supposed to be uninterested in the welfare of
his parishioners. To excite their attention to the
truths 'and duties of religion (an object in such a
situation instinctively rising to his view) is the de-
sign of the Fifth Part; and to promote in them just
sentiments and useful conduct, for the present life,
(an object closely connected with the preceding one)
of the Sixth.

The landscape, the characters, and the ideas of
the poem are American ; the language in a few
instances belongs to English poets ; but the author
has handsomely acknowledged the obligation in
his notes. Of the more characteristic portions,
the description of the school, the affectionate pic-
ture of the village clergyman, the Indian war, the
Connecticut farmer's prudential maxims, with the
whole scope of the political reflections, are purely
American.

Several members of the Dwight family have ap-
peared as authors. The brother of the President,
Theodore Dwight, occupied for a long time a dis-
tinguished part in the affairs of the country. He
was born at Northampton in 1765, and studied
law after the Revolution with his uncle Judge
Pierpont Edwards. He had a hand in the poeti-
cal and political essays of the Echo, in the Hart-
ford Mercury, in common with Hopkins and
Alsop. He was an eminent Federalist, and was
chosen the secretary of the Hartford Convention.
In 1815, he commenced the Albany Daily Adver-
tiser with the support of the leading politicians of
his party in the state; and in 1817 engaged in
the publication and editorship of the New York
Daily Advertiser, which he continued till 1835,
when he retired to Hartford. In 1833, his His-
tory of the Hartford Convention appeared at New
York; and in 1839, his Character of Thomas Jef-
ferson as exhibited in his own writings, at Bos-
ton— a book of a partisan political character.
Be died June 11, 1846.

His son, Theodore Dwight, is the author of a
History of Connecticut, in 1841, and of a volume
on the Revolution of 1848. He is a resident of
New York.

In 1829, a son of the president, Henry E.
Dwight, published a volume in New York of
Travels in the North of Germany, in the years
1825 and 1826 ; presenting " a view of the reli-
gious, literary, and political institutions of north-

362

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

em Germany, and their influence on society ; the
arts, the present state of religion, schools, and
universities."

Another son of the president, Sereno E.Dwight,
was author of the Life of Jonathan Edwards. A
volume of his sermons has been published with a
Memoir, by the Rev. William Lhvight, of Port-
land, Maine.

Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise,
The queen of the world, and child of the skies 1
Thy genius commands thee ; with rapture behold,
While ages on ages thy splendours unfold.
Thy reign is the last, and the noblest of time.
Most fruitful thy soil, most inviting thy clime;
Let the crimes of the east ne'er encrimson thy name,
Be freedom, and science, and virtue, thy fame.

To conquest, and slaughter, let Europe aspire:
Whelm nations in blood, and wrap cities in fire :
Thy heroes the rights of mankind shall defend,
And triumph pursue them, and glory attend.
A world is thy realm : for a world be thy laws,
Enlarg'd as thine empire, and just as thy cause ;
On Freedom's broad basis, that empire shall rise,
Extend with the main, and' dissolve with the skies.
Fair Science her gates to thy sons shall unbar,
And the east see thy morn hide the beams of her star.
New bards, and new sages, unrival'd shall soar
To fame uuextinguish'd when time is no more ;
To thee, the last refuge of virtue desigu'd,
Shall fly from all nations the best of mankind ;
Here, grateful to heaven, with transport shall bring
Their incense, more fragrant than odours of spring.

Nor less shall thy fair ones to glory ascend,
And Genius and Beauty in harmony blend;
The graces of form shall awake pure desire,
And the charms of the soul ever cherish the fire ;
Their sweetness unmingled, their manners refin'd,
And Virtue's bright image instamp'd on the mind,
With peace and soft rapture shall teach life to glow,
And light up a smile in the aspect of woe.

Thy fleets to all regions thy pow'r shall display,

The nations admire, and the oceans obey ;

Each shore to thy glory its tribute unfold,

And the east and the south yield their spices and

gold.
As the day-spring unbounded, thy splendour shall

flow,
And earth's little kingdoms before thee shall bow ;
While the ensigns of union, in triumph unfurl'd,
Hush the tumult of war, and give peace to the world.

Thus, as down a lone valley, with cedars o'erspread,
From war's dread confusion I pensively stray'd — ■
The gloom from the face of fair heav'n retir'd ;
The winds eeas'd to murmur ; the thunders expir'd ;
Perfumes, as of Eden, flow'd sweetly along,
And a voice, as of angels, enchantingly sung:
" Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise,
The queen of the world, and the child of the skies."

THE TRAVELLED APE — FROM AN EPISTLE TO COL. HUMPHREYS,
1765.

Oft has thine eye, with glance indignant seen

Columbia's youths, unfolding into men,

Their minds to improve, their manners to adorn,

To Europe's climes by fond indulgence borne ;

Oft hast thou seen those youths, at custom's shrine,

Victims to pride, to folly, and to sin,

Of worth bereft, of real sense forlorn,

Their land forget, their friends, their freedom, spurn ;

Each noble cause, each solid good desert

For splendour happiness, and truth for art;
The plain, frank manners of their race despise,
Fair without fraud, and great without disguise ;
Where, thro' the life the heart uncover'd ran,
And spoke. the native dignity of man.

For these, the gain let Virtue blush to hear,
And each sad parent drop the plaintive tear!
Train'd in foul stews, impoison d by the stage,
Hoyl'd into gaming, Keyser'd into age,
To smooth hypocrisy by Stanhope led,
To truth an alien, and to virtue dead,
Swoln with an English butcher's sour disdain,
Or to a fribble dwindled from a man,
Homeward again behold the jackdaw run,
And yield his sire the ruins of a son !

What tho' his mind no thought has e'er perplex'd,
Converse illum'd, or observations vex'd ;
Yet here, in each debate, a judge he shines,
Of all, that man enlarges, or refines;
Religion, science, politics, and song;
A prodigy his parts ; an oracle his tongue.
Ope wide your mouths ; your knees in homage bend ;
Hist! hist! ye mere Americans attend;
While Curl discloses to the raptur'd view
What Peter, Paul, and Moses, never knew ;
The light of new-born wisdom sheds abroad,
And adds a *leanto to the word of God.
What Creole wretch shall dare, with home-made

foils,
Attack opinions, brought three thousand miles ;
Sense, in no common way to mortals given,
But on Atlantic travellers breath'd by Heaven ;
A head, en queue, by Monsieur Frizzle dress'd;
Manners, a Paris tailor's arts invest;
Pure criticism, form'd from acted plays ;
And graces, that would even a Stanhope grace?
Commercial wisdom, merchants here inhale
From him, whose eye hath seen the unfinish'd bale;
Whose feet have pass'd the shop, where pins were

sold,
The wire was silver'd, and the heads were roll'dl
Conven'd, ye lawyers, make 3-our humblest leg!
Here stands the man has seen Lord Mansfield's wig!
Physicians hush'd, hear Galen's lips distil,
From Buchan's contents, all the Art to heal!
Divines, with reverence, cease your Scripture whims,
And learn this male Minerva's moral schemes;
Schemes theologic found in Drury-lane,
That prove the Bible false, and virtue vain!
Heavens! shall a child in learning, and in wit,
O'er Europe's climes, a bird of passage flit ;
There, as at home, his stripling self unknown,
By novel wonders stupified to stone,
Shut from the wise, and by no converse taught,
No well-read day, nor hour of serious thought,
His head by pleasure, vice, and hurry, turn'd,
All prudence trampled, all improvements spurn'd ;
Shall he, with less of Europe in his cap,
Than satchell'd school-boy guesses from the map,
On every subject struttingly decree,
Ken the far shore, and search the unfathom'd sea,
Where learning has her lamp for ages oil'd,
Where Newton ponders, and where Berkeley toil'df
Of all the plagues, that rise in human shape,
Good Heaven, preserve us from the travell'd Ape!
9

FALL OF EMPIRE — FROM GREENFIELD HILL.

Ah me ! while up the long, long vale of time,
Reflection wanders towards til' eternal vast,
How starts the eye, at many a change sublime,
Unbosom'd dimly by the ages pass'd!
What Mausoleums crowd the mournful waste !

* An awkward addition to a dwelling-house, very common
H in New England.

TIMOTHY D WIGHT.

303

The tombs of empires fallen I and nations gone 1
Each, once inscrib'd, in gold, with " Ave to last,"
Sate as a queen ; proclaim'd the world her own,
And proudly cried, " By me no sorrows shall be
known."

Soon fleets the sunbright Form, by man ador'd.

Soon fell the Head of gold, to Time a prey ;

The Arms, the Trunk, his cankering tooth devour'd:

And whirlwinds blew the Iron dust away.

Where dwelt imperial Timur? — far astray,

Some lonely-musing pilgrim now enquires:

And, rack'd by storms, and hastening to decay,

Mohammed's Mosque foresees its final fires;

And Rome's more lordly Temple day by day expires.

As o'er proud Asian realms the traveller winds,
His manly spirit, hush'd by terror, falls ;
When some deceased town's lost site he finds,
Where ruin wild his pondering eye appals;
Where silence swims along the moulder'd walls,
And broods upon departed Grandeur's tomb.
Through the lone, hollow aisles sad Echo, calls,
At each slow step : deep sighs the breathing gloom,
And weeping fields, around, bewail their Empress'
doom.

Where o'er an hundred realms, the throne uprose,
The screech-owl nests, the panther builds his home;
Sleep the dull newts, the lazy adders doze,
Where pomp and luxury dane'd the golden room.
Low lies in dust the sky-resembled dome ;
Tall grass around the broken column waves ;
And brambles climb, and lonely thistles bloom ;
The moulder'd arch the weedy streamlet laves,
And low resound, beneath, unnumber'd Bunken
graves.

Soon fleets the sun-bright Form, by man ador'd ;
And soon man's deemou chiefs from memory fade.
In musty volume, now must be explor'd,
Where dwelt imperial nations, long decay'd.
The brightest meteors angry clouds invade;
And where the wonders glitter'd, none explain.
Where Carthage, with proud hand, the trident

eway'd,
Now mud-w:dl'd cots sit sullen on the plain,
And wandering, fierce, and wild, sequester'd Arabs

reign.

In thee, 0 Albion ! queen of nations, live
Whatever splendours earth's wide realms have

known ;
In thee proud Persia sees her pomp revive ;
And Greece her arts; and Rome her lordly throne :
By every wind, thy Tyrian fleets are blown ;
Supreme, on Fame's dread roll, thy heroes stand;
All ocean's realms thy naval sceptre own ;
Of bards, of sages, how august thy baud!
And one rich Eden blooms around thy garden'd land.

But 0 how vast thy crimes ! Through heav'n's great

year,
When few centurial suns have trae'd their way ;
When southern Europe, worn by feuds severe;
Weak, doting, fallen, has bow'd to Russian sway;
And setting Glory beam'd her farewell ray ;
To wastes, perchance, thy brilliant fields shall turn;
In dust, thy temples, towers, and towns decay ;
The forest howl, where London's turrets burn ;
And all thy garlands deck thy sad, funereal urn.

Some land, scarce glimmering in the light of fame,
Scepter'd with arts and arms (if I divine),
Some unknown wild, some shore without a name,
In all thy pomp, shall then majestic shine.
As silver-headed Time's slow years decline,
Hot ruins oidy meet th' enquiring eye;

Where round yon mouldering oak vain brambles

twine,
The filial stem, already towering high,
Erelong shall stretch his arms, and nod in yonder

sky.

EOUND OF AMERICAN LIFE — FROM GREEJiFTGLD HILL.

In this New World, life's changing round,
In three descents, is often found.
The first, firm, busy, plodding, poor,
Earns, saves, and daily swells, his store ;
By farthings first, and pence, it grows ;
In shillings next, and pounds, it flows;
Then spread his widening farms, abroad;
His forests wave ; his harvests nod ;
Fattening, his numerous cattle play,
And debtors dread his reckoning day.
Ambitious then t'adorn with knowledge
His son, he places him at college ;
And sends, in smart attire, and neat,
To travel, thro' each neighbouring state;
Builds him a handsome house, or buys,
Sees him a gentleman, and dies.

The second, born to wealth and ease,
And taught to think, converse, and please.
Ambitious, with his lady-wife,
Aims at a higher walk of life.
Yet, in those wholesome habits train'd,
By which his wealth, and weight, were gaiu'J,
Bids care in hand with pleasure go,
And blends economy with show.
His houses, fences, garden, dress,
The neat and thrifty man confess.
Improv'd, but with i nproveinent plain,
Intent on office, as on gain,
Exploring, useful sweets to spy,
To public life he turns his eye.
A townsman first ; a justice soon ;
A member of the house anon ;
Perhaps to board, or bench, invited, ,

He sees the state, and subjects, righted;
And, raptur'd with politic life,
Consigns Ins children to his wife.
Of household cares amid the round,
For her, too hard the task is found.
At first she struggles, and contends ;
Then doubts, desponds, laments, and bends ;
Her sons pursue the sad defeat,
And shout their victory complete;
Rejoicing, see their father roam,
And riot, rake, and reign, at home,
Too late he sees, and sees to mourn,
His race of every hope forlorn,
Abroad, for comfort, turns his eyes,
Bewails his dire mistakes, and dies.

His heir, train'd only to enjoy.
Untaught his mind, or hands t' employ,
Conscious of wealth, enough for life,
With business, care, and worth, at strife,
By prudence, conscience, unrcstrain'd,
And none, but pleasure's habits, gain'd,
Whirls on the wild career of sense,
Nor danger marks, nor heeds expense.
Soon ended is the giddy round;
And soon the fatal goal is found.
His lands, seeur'd for borrow'd gold,
His houses, horses, herds, are sold.
And now, no more for wealth respected.
He 6inks, by all his friends neglected ;
Friends, who, before, his vices flatter'd,
And liv'd upon the loaves he scatter'd.
Unacted every worthy part.
And pining with a broken heart,
To dirtiest company he flies

3G1

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Whores, gambles, turns a sot, and dies.
His children born to fairer doom,
In rags, pursue him to the tomb.

Apprentie'd then to masters stern,
Some real good the orphans learn ;
Are bred to toil, and hardy fare,
And grow to usefulness, and care ;
And, following their great^grandsire's plan,
Each slow becomes a useful man.

Such here is life's swift-circling round ;
So soon arc all its changes found,
Would you prevent th' allotment hard,
And fortune's rapid whirl retard,
In all your race, industrious care
Attentive plant, and faithful rear ;
With life, th' important task begin,
Nor but with life, the task resign;
To habit, bid the blessings grow,
Habits alone yield good below.

THE VILLAGE CLERGYMAN — FEOit GEEENFIELD HILL.

Where western Albion's happy clime
Still brightens to the eye of time,
A village lies. In all his round,
The sun a fairer never found.
The woods were tall, the hillocks green,
The vallies laugh'd the hills between,
Thro' fairy meads the rivers roll'd,
The meadows fiower'd in vernal gold,
The days were bright, the mornings fair,
And evening lov'd to linger there.
There, twinn'd in brilliant fields above,
Sweet sisters ! sported Peace and Love;
While Virtue, like a blushing bride,
Seren'd, and brighten'd, at their side.

At distance from that happy way,
The path of sensual Pleasure lay,
Afar Ambition's summit rose,
And Avarice dug his mine of woes.

The place, with east and western sides,
A wide and verdant street divides:
And here the houses fae'd the day,
And there the lawns in beauty lay.
There, turret-crowu'd, and central, stood
A neat, and solemn house of God,
Across the way, beneath the shade,
Two elms with sober silence spread,
The Preacher liv'd. O'er all the place
His mansion cast a Sunday grace ;
Dumb stillness sate the fields around;
His garden seem'd a hallow'd ground ;
Swains ceas'd to laugh aloud, when near,
And school-boys never sported there.

In the same mild and temperate zone,
Twice twenty years, his course had run,
His locks of flowing silver spread,
A crown of glory o'er his head.
His face, the image of his mind,
With grave, and furrow'd wisdom shin'd ;
Not cold ; but glowing still, and bright;
Yet glowing with October light:
As evening blends, with beauteous ray,
Approaching night with shining day.

His Cure his thoughts engross'd alone ;
For them his painful course was run :
To bless, to save, his only care ;
To chill the guilty soul with fear;
To point the pathway to the skies,
And teach, and urge, and aid, to rise;
Where strait; and difficult to keep,
It climbs, and climbs, o'er Virtue's steep.

As now the evening of his day,
Retiring, smil'd it's warning ray;
He heard, in angel-whispers, come.
The welcome voice, that call'd him home.
The little flock he nurs'd so long,
And charm'd with mercy's sweetest song,
His heart with strong affections waim'd,
His love provok'd, his fears alarm'd —
Like him, who freed the chosen band,
Like him, who op'd the promis'd land,
His footsteps verging on the grave,
His blessing thus the Prophet gave.

" 0 priz'd beyond expression here,
As sons belov'd, as daughters dear.
Your father's dying voice receive,
My counsels hear, obey, and live !

" For you my ceaseless toils ye know,
My care, my faithfulness, and woe.
For you I breath'd unnumber'd prayers;
For you I shed unnumber'd tears ;
To living springs the thirsty led,
The hungry cheer'd with living bread,
Of grief allay'd the piercing smart,
And sooth'd with balm the doubting heart;
The wayward flock forbade to roam,
And brought the wandering lambkin home.

" And now, my toils, my duties done.
My crown of endless glory won,
Ev'n while invited to the skies,
My wing begins through heaven to rise,
One solemn labour still is due,
To close a life, cousum'd for you.

******

" Then rise, and let salvation call
Your time, your thoughts, your talents all!

" For this, the sacred page explore,
Consult, and ponder, o'er and o'er ;
The words of endless life discern;
The way, the means, the motives learn ;
The hopes, the promises, enjoy,
That ne'er deceive, that cannot cloy;
Alarms to Guilt's obdurate mind ;
Perennial bliss to Faith assign'd;
The precepts, by Messiah given;
His life, the image bright of Heaven :
His death, self-ruin'd man to save ;
His rise, primitial, from the grave ;
Beyond all other love, his love ;
His name, all other names above.
All duties to be learu'd, or done,
All comforts to be gain'd, or known,
To do, to gain, unceasing strive.
The book of books explore, and live.

" When smiles the Sabbath's genial morn,
Instinctive to the Temple turn ;
Your households round you thither bring,
Sweet off ring to the Saviour King.
There, on the mercy-seat, he shines,
Receives our souls, forgets our sins,
And welcomes, with resistless charms,
Submitting rebels to his arms.
That chosen, bless'd, accepted day,
Oh never, never cast away !"

" Let order round your houses reign,
Religion rule, and peace sustain ;
Each morn, each eve, your prayers arise,
As incense fragrant, to the skies ;
In beauteous groupe, your children join,
And servants share the work divine :
The voice, as is the interest, one.
And one the blessing wrestled down.

" Each toil devote, each care, and pain,
Your children for the skies to train.

TIMOTHY DWIGHT.

365

Allure, reprove, instruct; reclaim,
Alarm, and warn, commend, and blame ;
To virtue force with gentle away,
And guide, and lead, yourselves, the way.
Teach tliem, profaneness, falsehood, fraud.
Abuse to man, affronts to God,
All things impure, obscene, debas'd,
Tho' oft with high high examples grac'd,
To shun beyond the adder's breath,
When hissing instantaneous death ;
But justice, truth, and love, to prize,
Beyond the transports of the skies."

" Teach them, that, brighter than the sun,
Th' All-searching Eye looks flaming on,
Each thought, each word, each act, descries,
And sees the guilty motives rise ;
A Witness, and a Judge, that day,
Whose light shall every heart display.
Live what you teach — the heavenly Seer,
Who spake, as man ne'er spake, when here.
Taught all things just, and wise, and true
Shone a divine example too.

"To all, around, your blessings leml,
The sick relieve, the poor befriend,
The sad console, the weak sustain,
And soothe the wounded spirit's pain.
To you, think every blessing given,
To shed abroad the alms of Heaves,
To blunt the stings of human woe,
And build his kingdom, here below.
Let gentle Peace around you reign,
Her influence spread, her cause sustain:
To railing, answers mild return ;
Let love, oppos'd to anger, burn ;
Contention, ere begun, suppress,
And bid the voice of party cease.
The taleful tongue, the meddling mind.
The jealous eye, the heart unkind,
Far distant, far, from you remove;
But ope your doors to Truth and Love :
The meek esteem, the humble praise,
And Merit from her footstool raise.

" By every act of peace, and love,
Tims win your way to climes above.
In this great work, see all things strive
Nature toils that you may live :

" Lo, to aid you to the skies,
Seasons roll, and suns arise ;
Promis'd, see the seed-time come,
And the harvest shouted home 1

"All things, in their solemn round.
Morn, with peace and beauty crown'U,
Eve, with sweet, returning rest,
Toil, with health and plenty bless'd,
Help you on the ascending road,
Pointing, leading, still to God :
Joys to endless rapture charm;
Woes, of endless woe, alarm.

"All things toil, that you may live —
Rulers peace and freedom give:
Seers diviner peace proclaim.
Glorious to th' Unutter'd Name,
Good, to guilty mortals given,
Source of endless joy to heaven.

" See the Sabbath's peaceful morn,
(Sabbaths still for you return),
Opes the Temple to your feet,
Chaunting sounds of Seraphs sweet —
Heaven unfolds, and God is near,
Sinners haste, and enter here —
Grace and truth, from worlds above,
Fruits of suffering, dying love,

From the Sacred Spirit come,
Wilder'd flocks inviting home.

" Hark, what living music plays !
Catch the themes of heavenly praiss ;
Themes, that tune seraphic strings,
Notes, the bless'd Redeemer sings.

" ' Rise, my sous, and hither haste I
Wintry time is overpass'd.
See afar the rains have flown !
See immortal spring begun !
Streams with life and rapture flow ;
Fruits with life and rapture glow ;
Love the door of life unbars ;
Triumphs crown your finish'd wars :
Fondly wait impatient skies,
O'er you to renew their joys.

" 'Are you naked? here behold
Robes of light, and crowns of gold I
Famish'd ? an eternal feast '
Weary ? everliving rest !
Friendless? an Almighty Friend!
Hopeless ? transports ne'er to end !

" ' Children, penitents, arise ;
Hasten to your native skies :
Your arrival all things sing ;
Angels meet you on the wing;
Saints with fairer beauty shine ;
Brighter years in heaven begin ;
Round the Sun, that lights the skies,
More refulgent glories rise.'

" Thus, O my sons! Messiah's voice
Allures to never dying joys.
That voice of endless love receive ;
Those counsels hear, obey, and live.

" Thus, from the climes beyond the tomb
If God permit my soul to come,
Again my little flock to view,
To watch, and warn, and quicken you,
With transport shall my bosom glow,
To see each house an heaven below,
My sons ambitious of the skies,
And future saints, and angels rise.
And O, what brighter bliss shall bloom,
To hail you victors o'er the tomb ;
To guide you, all th' unmeasur'd waj',
And welcome to the gates of day;
To hear your blessed Euge sound,
And see th' immortals smile around ;
To stand, to shine, b}' you confess'd
Your friend, your earthly saviour bless'd ;
To mingle joys, all joys above,
And warm with ever-bright'ning love!"

He spoke. The filial tear around,
Responsive, trickled to the sound ;
He saw their hearts to wisdom won,
And felt his final duty done —
" Jesus ! my soul receive" — he cried,
And smil'd, and bow'd his head, and died.

ANN ELIZA BLEECKEE.
Ann Eliza, the youngest daughter of Mr. Brandt
Schuyler, was born in the city of New York in
October, 1752. "Though in her early years,"'
her admiring biographer remarks, " she never
displa3red any partiality for school, yet she
was passionately fond of books, insomuch that
she read with propriety any book that came to
hand long before the time that children in com-
mon pass their spelling-books."

In the year 1769 she married Mr. John J.
Bleccker, of ISTew Rochelle, and removed with
him to Poughkeepsie where they resided a year

366

CYCLOPAEDIA OF. AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Ann Eliza Bleecker.

or two, and then settled at Tomhaniok, " a beau-
tiful solitary little Ullage eighteen miles above Al-
bany." Here they remained until the tidings of
the expedition of Burgoyne from Canada reached
them, when Mr. Bleecker repaired to Albany to
provide a more secure residence for his family than
their lonely rural retreat afforded. The morning
after his departure news reached his wife that the
enemy were within two miles of the village, "burn-
ing and murdering all before them." " Terrified
beyond description she rose from the breakfast
table, and taking her Arbella on her arm, and
her other daughter (about four years old) by the
hand, she set off on foot, with a young mulatto
girl, leaving the house and furniture to the mercy
of the approaching savages. The roads were
crowded with carriages loaded with women and
children, but none could afford her assistance —
distress was depicted on every countenance, and
tears of heartfelt anguish moistened every cheek.
They passed on — no one spoke to another — and
no sound but the dismal creaking of burdened
wheels and the trampling of horses interrupted
the mournful silence. After a tedious walk of four
or five miles, she obtained a seat for the children
upon one of the wagons, and she walked on to
Stony Arabia, where she expected to find many
friends ; but she was deceived — no door was open
to Tier, whose house by many of them had been
made use of as a home — she wandered from house
to house, and at length obtained a place in the
garret of a rich old acquaintance, where a couple
of blankets, stretched upon some boards, were
offered her as a bed; she, however, sat up all
night, and the next morning, Mr. Bleecker com-
ing from Albany, met with them and returned to
that city, from whence they set off with several
other families by water."* They descended the
river as far as Bed Hook, where they resided
until the surrender of Burgoyne, when they re-
turned to their rural home, the melancholy ex-
cursion having been further saddened by the
death of Mrs. Bleecker's eldest child, mother, and
only surviving sister.

In 1781, Mr. Bleecker, while occupied in his
fields, was captured and carried off with two of
bis laborers by a party from Canada. These
occurrences were so frequent that the family
were at no loss to account for his disappearance,

* Life by Mrs. Fangerus.

and Mrs. Bleecker again set off for Albany in
quest of aid, " but by a wonderful train of events
Mr. Bleecker was retaken by a party from Ben-
nington, after having passed the last habitation
on this side of the Green Mountains, and when
his conductors for the first time had considered
themselves as perfectly secure," and returned in
safety at the end of six days.

In the spring of 1783 she visited New York,
but time and the war had caused so many changes
among her old associates, that the visit was pro-
ductive of more pain than pleasure to her sensi-
tive mind. She returned to Tomhanick, where
she was soon after taken sick, and, her delicate
frame offering feeble obstacles to the progress of
disease, died on the twenty-third of November
of the same year.

Mrs. Bleecker's poems were written as the
occasion suggested them to her mind, without a
view to publication. She possessed a pleasant
vein of sportive fancy, and many of her composi-
tions of this class were much admired by the few
friends to whom she showed them ; but in the fre-
quent attacks of despondency to which her deli-
cate organization was subject, she destroyed " all
the pieces which were not melancholy as herself."
Her graver compositions are upon topics suggest-
ed by her family bereavements, and are tenderly
though somewhat formally expressed: Her light-
er pieces and her correspondence (in which she
evidently took great pleasure) are the most pleas-
ing and characteristic of her literary productions.

Several of her poems were printed in the ear-
lier numbers of the New York Magazine, and a
collection of her stories and "poetics" in a vo-
lume, with a few of her letters, published in
1793 under the supervision of her daughter, Mar-
garetta, who added a number of essays and verses
from her own pen. This lady was born in the
city of New York in 1771, and passed her early
years in Tomhanick. After her mother's death,
her father removed to New York, where, against
her parent's wish, she married in 1791 Peter
Faugeres, a physician of that city. He was a
worthless fellow, and in a few years dissipated
her large fortune. After the death of her father
in 1795, the pair were reduced to extreme desti-
tution. Faugeres died of the yellow fever in
1798, and the widow supported herself as a
teacher until her death, January 9, 1801.

In 1795, Mrs. Faugeres offered a tragedy enti-
tled Beluarius to the John Street Theatre. The
management declined its production. It was
afterwards published, and is of slight literary
merit. Among her verses are the Birth-day of
Columbia and an historical and patriotic descrip-
tion of the Hudson, in which New York is ad-
dressed,

Pride of Columbia I Eboracia fair I

to sin. L***.
Dear brother, to these happy shades repair,
And leave, Oh leave the city's noxious air :
I'll try description, friend — methinks I see
'Twill influence your curiosity.

Before our door a meadow flies the eye,
Circled by hills, whose summits crowd the sky;
The silver lily there exalts her head1,
And op'ning roses balmy odours spread,
While golden tulips flame beneath the shade.

PHILLIS WHEATLEY.

367

In short, not hiu with her painted how.

Nor varied tints an evening sun can show,

Can the gay colours of the flow'rs exceed,

Whose glowing leaves diversify this mead:

And when the blooms of Flora disappear,

The weighty fruits adorn the satiate year:

Here vivid cherries bloom in scarlet pride,

And purple plums blush by the cherries' side;

The sable berries bend the pliant vines,

And smiling apples glow in crimson rinds ;

Ceres well pleas'd, beholds the furrowed plain,

And 8how'rs her blessings on th' industrious swain ;

Plenty sits laughing in each humble cot;

None wish for that which heaven gives them not.

But sweet Contentment still with sober charms,

Encircles us within her blissful arms ;

Birds unmolested chauut their early notes,

And on the dewy spray expand their throats;

Before the eastern skies are streak'd with light,

Or from the arch of Heaven retreats the night,

The musical inhabitants of air.

To praise their Maker, tuneful lays prepare.

Here by a spring, whose glassy surface moves

At ev'ry kiss from Zephyr of the groves,

While passing clouds look brighter in the stream,

Your poet sits and paints the rural scene.

TO MISS CATITARINE TEN EYOK.

Come and see our habitation,

Condescend to be our guest ;
Tho' the veins of warring nations

Bleed, yet here secure we rest.

By the light of Ci/nthia's crescent,
Playing thro' the waving trees;

When we walk, we wish you present
To participate our bliss.

Late indeed, the cruel savage
Here with looks ferocious stood ;

Here the rustic's cot did ravage,

Stain'd the grass with human blood.

Late their hands sent conflagration
Rolling thro' the blooming wild,

Seized with death, the brute creation
Mourn'd, while desolation smil'd.

Spiral flames from tallest cedar
Struck to heav'n a heat intense;

They canccll'd thus with impious labour,
Wonders of Omnipotence.

But when Conquest rear'd her standard,

And the Aborigines were fled,
Peace, who long an exile wandcr'd,

Now returned to bless the shade.

Now JEolus blows the ashes

From sad Terra's blackeu'd brow,

While the whistling swain with rusheJ
Eoofs his cot, late levcll'd low.

From the teeming womb of Nature
Bursting flow'rs exhale perfume ;

Shady oaks, of ample stature,
Cast again a cooling gloom.

Waves from each reflecting fountain,

Roll again unmixed with gore,
And verging from the lofty mountain,

Fall beneath with solemn roar.

Here, embosom'd in this Eden,
Cheerful all our hours are spent;

Here no pleasures are forbidden,
Sylvan joys are innocent.

PHILLIS WHEATLEY.
The poems of Phillis Wheatley were published in
London in 1773, in a thin duodecimo volume, with
a copper-plate portrait, from which our engrav-
ing is taken, and with the full title, Poems on
Various Subjects, Religious and Moral. By
Phillis Wlicaflcy, Negro Servant to Mr. John
Wheatley, of Boston, inNew England. The dedi-
cation to the Eight' Honorable the Countess of
Huntingdon hears date, Boston, June 12, 1773,
when she was about to visit London with a mem-
ber of her master's family, and points to the
influential Methodist connexion by which she was
lionized on her arrival in that city.* A Preface
puts forward the old plea, which, under the cir-
cumstances, looks like a jest, of the poems being0
" written originally for the amusement of the
author, as they were the products of her leisure
moments. She had no intention ever to have
published them; nor would they now have made
their appearance, but at the importunity of many
of her best and most generous friends." A let-
ter, " sent by the author's master to the pub-
lisher," follows, in which John Wheatley, dating
Boston, November 14, 1772, states that " Phillis
was brought from Africa to America, in the year.'
17(51, between seven and eight years of age, with-
out any assistance from school education, and by
only what she was taught in the family, she, in
sixteen months' time from her arrival, attained
the English language, to which she was an utter
stranger before, to such a degree, as to read any,
the most difficult parts of the Sacred writings, to

??/Cm //n^fJy

* Among tho attentions which Phillis "Wheatley received in
London was tho gift from the Lord Mayor Broofc Watson, of a
copy of FouHs's folio Glasgow edition <>f Paradise Lost, which
was sold after her death, in payment of her husband's debts.
It is now preserved in the library of Harvard College at Cam-
bridge.

368

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

the great astonishment of all who heard her. As
to her writing, her own curiosity led her to it ;
and this she learned in so short a time, that in
the year 1765 she wrote a letter to the Rev. Mr.
Occom, the Indian minister, while in England.
She has a great inclination to read the Latin
tongue, and has made some progress in it." To
certify still further the authority of the book, an
"attestation" is added, addressed "to the public,"
from " the most respectable characters in Bos-
ton," at the head of whom is his Excellency Gov.
Thomas Hutchinson, with such fellow-witnesses
as John Hancock, the Rev. Mather Byles, and
the Rev. Mr. Samuel Mather, who testify their
full belief that the poems were written by Phillis,
: and state the additional fact that " she has been
examined by some of the best judges, and is
thought qualified to write them."

To these biographical facts, we may add, from
the Memoir prefixed to an edition of the Poems
published in Boston in 1834-, written by " a col-
lateral descendant of Mrs. Wheatley, who has
been familiar with the name and fame of Phillis
from her childhood," that the future' poetess was
bought in the slave-market of Boston, where she
was selected by Mrs. Wheatley for her delicate
appearance. She was taught to read and write
by one of this lady's daughters, in the family, and
grew up as a pet of the household — her accom-
plishments reflecting honor on the associations.
It does not appear that she was ever formally
manumitted. The only recollection which she
retained of her life in Africa was a poetical
reminiscence of her mother pouring out water
before the sun at his rising — a trait of natural
devotion in a heathen land. When she was six-
teen, in 1770, Phillis became a member of Dr.
Sewall's congregation in the Old South Meeting.

The poems themselves show as marked indica-
tions of the feeding-grounds of the readers and
imitators of verse in the eighteenth century, as do
those of Mistress Ann Bradstreet in the seven-
teenth. "What in the earlier day was quaint,
rude, and daring, in the latter is smooth, sound-
ing and fluent. The formal muse of Pope, and
the herd of victims whom he impaled in the
Dunciacl, had succeeded in the American colo-
nies to the, twisted efforts of Du Bartas. Phillis
Wheatley is a very respectable echo of the Papal
strains. In the first poem of the volume, ad-
dressed To Maecenas, she writes of Homer with an
eloquence evidently derived from the glowing
translation of the bright-eyed little man at Twick-
enham : —

While Homer paints, lo ! eircumfua'd in air.
Celestial Gods in mortal forms appear ;
Swift as they move hear each recess rebound,
Heav'n quakes, earth trembles, and the shores re-
sound.
Great Sire of verse, before my mortal eyes,
The lightnings blaze across the vaulted skies ;
And, as the thunder shakes the hcav'nly plains,
A deep-felt horror thrills thro' all my veins.
When gentler strains demand thy graceful song,
The length'ning line moves languishing along.
When groat Patroclus courts Achilles' aid,
The grateful tribute of my tears is paid ;
Prone on the shore he feels the pangs of love,
And stern Pelides tend'rest passions move.

One of the few allusions which we have found

in the poems to her birth and condition of slavery
is among these verses. She gracefully recalls the
African Terence : —

The happier Terence all the choir inspir'd,
His soul replenish'd, and his bosom fir'd ;
But say, ye Muses, why this partial grace,
To one alone of Afrit's sable race ;
From age to age, transmitting thus his name
With the first glory in the rolls of fame?

The longest piece of classicality in the volume
is a paraphrase of the story of Kiobe and her
Children, from Ovid, in which there is one line,
at least, which would do honor to any pen.
Apollo is preparing the slaughter of the sons in
the race-course, the moment before that arrowy
devastation : —

With clouds incompass'd glorious Phoebus stands;
Tlic feather d vengeance quivring in his hands.

This is not a translation of anything in Ovid,
for that writer has neglected so striking a posi-
tion for his Deity. Apollo, in the Metamorphoses,
goes to work at once in the most business-like
manner, and covers the field with the slain in the
shortest possible time. Another touch of the
poetic flight of the arrow is added to the original
text in the death of Sipylus : —

Then didst thou, Sipylus, the language hear
Of fate portentous whistling in the air.

Certainly, even with the assistance of a master,
it was a most generous acquisition for a female
African slave to appreciate that fine classic story
in this way.

The remaining poems are far from mediocrity.
A large number of them belong to the class of
occasional verses addressed to her friends on
various family afflictions ; so that she was for the
time a kind of poet-laureate in the first domestic
circles of Boston. Nor is the University of Cam-
bridge, in New England, forgotten. The earnest
religious feeling of the Methodists is everywhere
visible. The lines, To S. M., a Young African
Painter, on seeing his works, refer to Scipio
Moorhead, a servant of the Rev. John Moorhead,
of Boston, who exhibited some talent for draw-
ing. The initials of the lady to whom the Fare-
well to America is addressed, belong to Mrs.
Susanna Wright, a lady of some note for her skill
in waxwork. By the favor of Mr. S. F. Haven,
of Worcester, to whom we are indebted for the
last two items of information, we have before us
the original manuscript of two of the poems, To
ths University of Cambridge, and the lines On
the Death of the See. Dr. Sewall, written in the
author's remarkably round neat hand. The
earliest verses dated in the collection are those
addressed To the King's Most Excellent Majesty,
marked 1768. From this manuscript it appears
that the lines on Harvard were written in 1767.

On her return from England, after the publica-
tion, of the poems, the Wheatley family was
broken up by death, and Phillis married a colored
man, who seems, to have been a showy fellow,
passing, according to one account, as a lawyer,
another as a grocer, and a third a barber. He
fell into poverty during the Revolution, and his
wife suffered with him till she died in Boston,
Dec. 5, 1784. It was one tiling dreaming with
Ovid, and another living with " Doctor Peters."

PHILLIS WHEATLEY.

369

The poems of Phillis Wheatley having been
published in a volume eleven years before her
death, and that edition of 1773 having been fol-
lowed in subsequent ones,* the occasional verses
which she published afterwards yet remain to be
collected. Of these we present several to our
readers. The most important of them are the
lines to General Washington, in 1775, which fol-
low with the letter that accompanied them.t

Sir:

Phillis Wheatley to Gen. Washington.

I have taken the freedom to address your
Excellency in the enclosed Poem, and entreat your
acceptance, though I am not insensible of its inaccu-
racies. Your being appointed by the Grand Conti-
nental Congress to be Generalissimo of the armies
of Nortli America, together with the fame of your
virtues, excite sensations not easy to suppress. Your
generosity, therefore, I presume, will pardon the
attempt. Wishing your Excellency all possible suc-
cess in the great cause you are so generously en-
gaged in, I am

Your Excellency's most obedient humble servant,

PHILLIS WHEATLEY.

Providence, Oct. 26, 1775.

HIS EXCELLENCY GEN. WA8niNGT0N.

Celestial choir ! enthron'd in realms of light.
Columbia's scenes of glorious toils I write.
While freedom's cause her anxious breast alarms,
She flashes dreadful in refulgent arms.
See mother earth her offspring's fate bemoan,
And nations gaze at scenes before unknown !
See the bright beams of heaven's revolving light
Involved in sorrows and the veil of night!

The goddess comes, she moves divinely fair,
Olive and laurel binds her golden hair:
Wherever shines this native of the skies,
Unnumber'd charms and recent graces rise.

Muse ! bow propitious while my pen relates
How pour her armies through a thousand gates,
As when Eolus heaven's fair face deforms,
Enwrapp'd in tempest and a night of storms;
Astonish'd ocean feels the wild uproar,
The refluent surges beat the sounding shore;
Or thick as leaves in Autumn's golden reign,
Such, and so many, moves the warrior's train.
In bright array they seek the work of war,
Where high unfurl'd the ensign waves in air.
Shall I to Washington their praise recite?
Enough thou know'st them in the fields of fight.
Thee, first in place and honours, — we demand
The grace and glory of thy martial band.
F.im'd for thy valour, for thy virtues more,
Hear every tongue thy guardian aid implore!

One century scarce perform'd its destined round,
When Gallic powers Columbia's fury found ;

* Besides the Boston edition, published by G. W. Light, to
which we have alluded, we have before us one reprinted from
the London edition by Barber and Southwiek, for Thomas
Spencer, bookseller, Market street, Albany, in 1793. A separate
brief memoir, by B. B. Thatcher, was also issued at Boston, by
Light, in 1884.

+ Washington mentions coming across Phillis Wlieatley's
poem and letter, " in searching over a parcel of papers," in a
letter to Joseph Read, Camb./Feb. 10, 1776. Mr. Sparks says
he lias not been able to find, the poem and letter among Wash-
ington's papers, and that " they have doubtless been lost. It
might be curious," he adds. uto see in what manner she
would eulogize liberty and the rights of man. while herself,
nominally at least, in bondage."— Washington's Writings, iii.
299. The poem and letter were probably given by Washing-
ton to the printer.
VOL. I. — 24

And so may you, whoever dares disgrace
The land of freedom's heaven-defended race!
Fix'd are the eyes of nations on the scales,
For in their hopes Columbia's arm prevails.
Anon Britannia droops the pensive head,
While round increase the rising hills of dead.
Ah! cruel blindness to Columbia's state!
Lament thy thirst of boundless power too late.
Proceed, great chief, with virtue on thy side,
Thy ev'ry action let the goddess guide.
A crown, a mansion, and a throne that shine,
With gold unfading, Washington ! be thine.

This was Washington's reply : —

Cambridge, February 2d, 1776.
Miss Phillis:

Your favour of the 26th October did not reach
my hands till the middle of December. Time
enough, you will say, to have given an answer ere
this. Granted. But a variety of important occur-
rences continually interposing to distract the mind
and withdraw the attention, I hope will apologize
for the delay, aud plead my excuse for the seeming
but not real neglect. I thank you most sincerely for
your polite notice of me, iu the elegant lines you
enclosed ; and however undeserving I may be of
such encomium and panegyric, the style and manner
exhibit a striking proof of your poetical talents; iu
honour of which, and as a tribute justly due to you,
I would have published the poem, hail I not been
apprehensive that, while I only meant to give the
world this new instance of your genius, I might have
incurred the imputation of vanity. This, and no-
thing else, determined me not to give it place in the
public prints. If you should ever come to Cam-
bridge, or near head-quarters, I shall be happy to
see a person so favoured by the muses, and to whom
Nature has been so liberal and beneficent in her
dispensations. I am, with great respect, your obe-
dient humble servant,

George Washington:

The lines and letter of Phillis Wheatley were
published in the Pennsjlvania Magazine or Ame-
rican Monthly Museum for April, 1776.

In Jan., 1784, the year other death, she wrote
an Elegy of fifty-two lines, To the Memory of
that Greed Divine, the Reverend anil Learned Dr.
Samuel Cooper, a copy of which is preserved in
the Boston Athenseum. It is dedicated Totho
Church and Congregation assembling in Brattle
street, by their Obedient Humble Servant, Phillis
Peters. We have also met with the following of
the same year, in the American Antiquarian
Society, in four small quarto pages printed at
Boston by Warden and Russell : —

LIBEnTT AND PEACE.

Lo freedom eomes. Th' prescient muse foretold,
All eyes th' accomplish'd prophecy behold:
Her port describ'd, " She moves divinely fair,
Olive and laurel bind her golden hair."
She, the bright progeny of Heaven, descends,
And eveiw grace her sovereign step attends ;
For now kind Heaven, indulgent to our prayer,
In smiling peace resolves the din of war.
Fix'd in Columbia her illustrious line,
And bids in thee her future councils shine.
To every realm her portals open'd wide,
Receives from each the full commercial tide.
Each art and science now with rising charms,
Th' expanding heart with emulation warms.

3 TO

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

E'en great Britannia sees with dread surprise,
And from the dazzling splendors turns her eyes.
Britain, whose navies swept th' Atlantic o'er,
And thunder sent to every distant shore;
E'en thou, in manners cruel as thou art,
The sword resign'd, resume the friendly part.
For Gallia's power espous'd Columbia's cause,
And new-born Rome shall give Britannia laws,
Nor unremember'd in the grateful strain,
Shall princely Louis' friendly deeds remain ;
The generous prince th' impending vengeance eyes,
Sees the tierce wrong and to the rescue flies.
' Perish that thirst of boundless power, that drew
On Albion's head the curse to tyrants due.
But thou appeas'd submit to Heaven's decree,
That bids this realm of freedom rival thee.
Now sheathe the sword that bade the brave atone
With guiltless blood for madness not their own.
Sent from th' enjoyment of their native shore,
Ill-fated — never to behold her more.
From every kingdom on Europa's coast
Throng'd various troops, their glory, strength, and

boast.
With heart-felt pity fair Hibernia saw
Columbia menac'd by the Tyrant's law :
On hostile fields fraternal arms engage, .
And mutual deaths, all dealt with mutual rage :
The muse's ear hears mother earth deplore
Her ample surface smoke with kindred gore :
The hostile field destroys the social ties,
And everlasting slumber seals their ej'es.
Columbia mourns, the haughty foes deride,
Her treasures plunder'd and her towns destroy'd:
Witness how Charlestown's curling smokes arise,
In sable columns to the clouded skies.
The ample dome, high-wrought with curious toil,
In one sad hour the savage troops despoil.
Descending peace the power of war confounds;
From every tongue celestial peace resounds:
As from the east th' illustrious king of day,
With rising radiance drives the shades away,
So freedom comes array'd with charms divine,
And in her train commerce and plenty shine.
Britannia owns her independent reign,
Hibernia, Scotia and the realms of Spain;
And great Germania's ample coast admires
The generous spirit that Columbia fires.
Auspicious Heaven shall fill with fav'ring gales,
Where e'er Columbia spreads her swelling sails:
To every realm shall peace her charms display,
And heavenly freedom spread her golden ray.

The two following are printed from the author's
manuscript : — ■

TO THE TTN-IVEKSITY OF CAMBRIDGE, "WROTE EN 17C7.

While an intrinsic ardor bids me write,
The muse doth promise to assist my pen.
Twas but ere now I left my native shore,
The sable land of error's darkest night ;
There, sacred Nine! no place for you was found:
Parent of mercy, 'twas thy powerful hand
Brought me in safety from the dark abode.

To you, bright youths, he points the heights of

heav'n,
To you the knowledge of the depths profound,
Above, 'contemplate the ethereal space,
And glorious systems of revolving worlds.

Still more, ye sons of science ! you've received
The pleasing sound by messengers from heav'n,
The Saviour's blood for your Redemption flows :
See him with hands stretched out upon the cross,
Divine compassion in his :bosom glows;

He hears ievilers with oblique regard —
What condescension in the Son of God?

When the whole human race by sin had fall'n :
He deigned to die, that they might rise again,
To live with him beyond the starry sky,
Life without death and glory without end.

Improve your privileges while they stay :
Caress, redeem each moment, which with haste
Bears on its rapid wing eternal bliss.
Let hateful vice, so baneful to the soul,
Be still avoided with becoming care;
Suppress the sable monster in its growth.
Ye blooming plants of human race divine
An Ethiop tells you 'tis your greatest foe,
It present sweetness turns to endless pain,
And brings eternal ruin on the sotd.

ON THE DEATn OF THE EEV. DR. SEWALL, 17G9.

Ere yet the morning heav'd its orient head,
Behold him praising with the happy dead.
Hail! happy saint, on the immortal shore,
We hear thyT warning and advice no more;
Then let each one behold with wishful eyes
The saint ascending to his native 6kies,
From hence the prophet wings his rapturous way
To mansions pure, to fair celestial day.

Then begging for the spirit of his God,

And panting eager for the bless'd abode,

Let ev'ry one with the same vigour soar

To bliss and happiness unseen before;

Then be Christ's image on our minds impress'd,

And plant a Saviour in each glowing breast,

Thrice happy thou, arrived at joy at last,

What compensation for the evil past !

Thou Lord, incomprehensible, unknown

To sense, we bow at thy exalted throne 1

While thus we beg thy excellence to feel,

Thy sacred spirit in our hearts reveal,

And make each one of us that grace partake,

Which thus we ask for the Redeemer's sake.

" Sewall is dead," swift pinion'd fame thus cry'd.

Is Sewall dead? my trembling heart reply'd.

0 what a blessing in thy flight deny'd!

But when our Jesus had ascended high,

With captive bands he led captivity ;

And gifts received for such as knew not God,

Lord, send a pastor for thy churches' good.

0 ruined world ! bereft of thee, we cry'd
(The rocks, responsive to the voice, reply'd),
How oft for us this holy prophet pray'd ;
But ah ! behold him in his clay-cold bed,
By duty urged my weeping verse to close,
I'll on his Tomb an Epitaph compose.

Lo! here a man bought with Christ's precious blood,
Once a poor sinner, now a saint with God ;
Behold! ye rich and poor, and fools and wise, *

Nor let this monitor your hearts surprise!
I'll tell you all what this great saint has done,
Which makes him brighter than the glorious sun:
Listen, ye happy, from your seats above,

1 speak sincerely, and with truth and love;
He sought the paths of virtue and of truth ;
'Twas this which made him happy in his youth.
In blooming years he found that grace divine,
Which gives admittance to the sacred shrine.
Mourn him, ye irtdigent, whom he has fed;
Seek yet more earnest for the living Bread

E'en Christ, your Bread, what cometh from above

Implore his pity, and his grace and love.
Mourn him, ye youth, whom he hath often told
God's bounteous mercy from the times of old.
I, too, have cause this mighty loss to mourn,
For this my monitor will not return.

BENJAMIN THOMPSON.

371

Now, this faint semblance of his life complete;
He is, through Jesus, made divinely great,
And left a glorious pattern to repeat.
But wheu shall we to this bless'd state arrive ?
When the same graces in our hearts do thrive.

The following arc from the volume collected
by the author : —

ON THE DEATH OF THE F.EV. MR. GEORGE WITITEFIELD, 1770.

Hail, happy saint, on thine immortal throne
Possest of glory, life, and bliss unknown.
We hear no more the music of thy tongue,
Thy wonted auditories cease to throng.
Thy sermons in unequall'd accents flow'd,
And ev'ry bosom with devotion glow'd :
Thou didst in strains of eloquence refin'd
Inflame the heart, and captivate the mind.
Unhappy, we the setting sun deplore,
So glorious once, but ah ! it shines no more.

Behold the prophet in his tow'ring flight I
He leaves the earth for heaven's unmeasur'd height,
And worlds unknown receive him from our sight.
There Whilefield wings with rapid course his way,
And sails to Zlon through vast seas of day.
Thy pray'rs, great saint, and thine incessant cries
Have pierc'd the bosom of thy native skies.
Thou, moon, hast seen, and all the stars of light,
How lie has wrestled with his God by night.
He pray'd that grace in ev'ry heart might dwell,
He long'd to see America excell ;
He charg'd its youth that ev'ry grace divine
Should witli full lustre in their conduct shine ;
That Saviour which his soul did first receive,
The greatest gift that e'en a God can give,
He freely offer'd to the num'rous throng,
That on his lips with list'ning pleasure hung.

"Take him, ye wretched, for your only good,
Take him, ye starving sinners, for your food;
Ye thirsty, come to tins life-giving stream,
Ye preachers, take him for your joyTful theme;
Take him, my dear Americans, he said,
Be your complaints on his kind bosom laid:
Take him, ye Africans, he longs for you,
Impartial Saviour is his title due:
Wash'd in the fountain of redeeming blood,
You shall be sons, and kings, and priests to God."

Great Countess* we Americans revere
Thy name, and mingle in thy grief sincere ;
New England deeply feels, the Orphans mourn,
Their more than father will no more return.

But, tho' arrested by the hand of death,
Whitefield no more exerts his lab'ring breath ;
Yet let us view him in th' eternal skies,
Let ev'ry heart to this bright vision rise ;
While the tomb safe retains its sacred trust,
Till life divine re-animates his dust.

A FAREWELL TO AMERICA.

To Jfrs. SusannaWrigM,

I. •

Adieu, New England's smiling meads

Adieu, the flow'ry plain ;
I leave thine op'ning charms, O spring,
And tempt the roaring main.

n.
In vain for me the fiow'rets rise,

And boast their gaudy pride,
While here beneath the northern skies

I mourn for health deny'd.

* The Countess of Huntingdon, to whom Mr. Whitefield was
Chaplain.

Celestial maid of rosy hue,

0 let me feel thy reign!
I languish till thy face I view,

Thy vanish'd joys regain.

IV.

Susannah mourns, nor can I bear

To see the crystal show'r,
Or mark the tender falling tear

At sad departure's hour ;
v.
Nor unregarding can I see

Her soul with grief opprest :
But let no sighs, no groans for me,

Steal from her pensive breast.

VI.

In vain the feathered warblers sir.g,
In vain the garden blooms,

And on the bosom of the spring
Breathes out her sweet perfumes.

VII.

While for Britannia 's distant shore
We 6weep the liquid plain,

And witli astonish'd eyes explore
The wide extended main.

vm.
Lo, Health appears ! celestial dame ;

Complacent and serene,
With Hebe's mantle o'er her frame.

With soul-deliglitiiuj mien.

To mark the vale where London lies
With misty vapours crown'd,

Which cloud Auroras thousand dyes.
And veil her charms around.

Why, Phoebus, moves thy car so slow?

So slow thy rising ray i
Give us the famous town to view

Thou glorious king of day !

XI.

For thee, Britannia, I resign,

New England's smiling fields;
To view again her charms divine,

What joy the prospect yields!

xn.
But thou, temptation, hence awav,

With all thy fatal train ;
Nor once seduce my soul awajr,

By thine enchanting strain.

XIII.

Thrice happy they, whose heav'nly shield

Secures their souls from harms,
And fell Temptation on the held

Of all its pow'r disarms I
Boston, May, 7, 1775.

BENJAMIN THOMPSON,

Better known by his title of Count Eumford,
was a native of Wolmrn, Massachusetts. He was
born March 26, 1753. After receiving a common-
school education, he was placed with a physician,
Dr. Hay. He indicated an aptness for the
mechanic arts, amusing himself by making surgi-
cal instruments, and afterwards, when employed
as a clerk in a store, by manufacturing fireworks,
the latter experiment leading to an explosion by

372

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

which he was severely burned, and for a time
deprived of sight. lie showed little taste for
business pursuits. He attended the course of phi-
losophical lectures established at Cambridge about
1769, as a charity scholar, walking nine miles and
back every day for the sake of the instruction
and pleasure they afforded him.

(/O (/yi-i is /lstyr>7

*u<rv\~

In 1772 he engaged in school-keeping in Brad-
ford, Massachusetts, and soon after at Eumford,
now Concord, N. H., where he improved his cir-
cumstances by marrying a widow, Mrs. Rolfe.

He was with the American army at Lexington,
and at Cambridge on the arrival of Washington
as commander-in-chief, but afterwards became
identified with the royalist side. He sailed for
England in January, 1776. After a residence of
several years in that country, where he became
known as a scientific man, and held a post in the
office of the department of American affairs, he
was sent, near the close of the war, to New York,
where he raised a regiment of dragoons and
became a lieutenant-colonel.

In 1784 he returned to England, and was
knighted by George III. In consequence of Ids
scientific reputation, he received an invitation
from the Bavarian government to remove to that
country. He accepted the proposal, and resided
for some years in Munich, where he introduced
several reforms in the police service. One of his
most successful efforts was in the treatment of the
beggars, with whom the streets of Munich were
infested. On a given day, sallying out with a
proper military force, he swept these vagrants
from the streets, and by establishing houses of
industry, brought many of them to adopt thrifty
habits. He was made a Count by the Elector
Palatine, the title Romford being his own selec-
tion, in compliment to his former residence, and
received decorations from many of the courts of
Europe. Visiting England, he projected the
Royal Institution, and suggested Humphrey Davy,
then but twenty-two, as the head of its chemical
department. In 1802, he went to Paris, and
married a second wife,* the widow of Lavoisier,
from whom he was soon separated. In the enjoy-
ment of a pension from the King of Bavaria, he
resided at Auteuil, near Paris, till his death,
August 20, 1814. His funeral oration before the
Institute was delivered by Cuvier.t

* His first. " ■whom he appears to have deserted, died in New
Hampshire, in 1792." — Sabine's American Loyalists. 644.

t An elegant and expensive marble monument was erected in

the English garden at Munich, during Count Rurnford's absence

from Bavaria, bearing the following inscription in German : —

Stay, wanderer.

At the creative fiat of Charles Theodore

Rumford. the friend of mankind,

by genius, taste, and love inspired.

Changed this once desert place

into what thou now beholdest.

And on the opposite side : —

To him

who rooted out the greatest of public evi's,

idleness and mendicity;

Relieved and instructed the poor,

and founded many institutions

for the educating of our youth.

By his will he bequeathed one thousand dollars
annually, and the reversion of other sums, to the
" University of Cambridge, in the State of Massa-
chusetts, in North America, for the purpose of
founding, under the direction and management of
the Corporation, Overseers, and Government of
that University, a new Institution and Professor-
ship, in order to teach, by regular courses of aca-
demical and public lectures, accompanied with
proper experiments, the utility of the physical
and mathematical sciences, for the improvement
of the useful arts, and for the extension of the
industry, prosperity, happiness, and well-being
of society." In December, 1816, the Rumford
Professorship was established in Harvard Univer-
sity, and Dr. Jacob Bigelow appointed the first
professor. In his Inaugural, after reviewing the
progress of physical science, and the advantages
of New England culture, he pronounced a judi-
cious eulogy on the founder, with this general
summary of his various philosophical improve-
ments in private and political economy : —

" In the prosecution of them he was led to the
observation of many curious phenomena of light
and caloric, with which the world has been
made acquainted. The application of these to use,
and the various contrivances he originated, to
increase the convenience, economy, and comforts
of living, have given a character to his writings,
and are everywhere associated with his name.
His pursuits might even be embodied into a
science, for their object is everywhere known ; a
science conversant with a multiplicity of details,
but possessing unity of design ; a science humble
in the sphere of its operations, but noble in its
ultimate destiny ; a science which every man
must practise, but which philosophers and phi-
lanthropists must extend; one, which should it
ever demand a definition, would be found to be
the science — of clothing, of warming, and of
nourishing mankind."

His daughter, by permission of the King of
Bavaria, bore the title Countess of Rumford. She
came to America after her father's death, and
lived at Concord, where she died in 1852. Her
will secured the fine estate on which she resided
to the purposes of an asylum for indigent children.
His Essays, Political, Economical, and Philosophi-
cal* were published in London, and were re-
printed in Boston, in 1798. The several chapters,
which are somewhat curiously arranged, cover a
wide sphere of philanthropy. There are specula-
tions and calculations on the treatment of beg-
gars, in which he gives an account of his expe-
riences in Munich, of the foundation and regulation
of the Houses of Industry established under his
direction, the improvement wrought in morals

Go. wanderer,

and strive to equal him

. in genius and activity,

and us

in gratitude.

* Essays, Political, Economical, and Philosophical. By Ben-
jamin Count of Rumford, Knight of the Orders of the'White

' Eagle, and St. Stanislaus ; Chamberlain. Privy Counsellor of
State, and Lieutenant-General in the Service of his Most Serene
Highness the Elector Palatine, Reigning Duke of Bavaria;

\ Colonel of his Regiment of Artillerv. and Commander in Chief
of the General Staff of his Army; F.R.S. Acad. P.. Iliber.
Berol. Elec. Boicce. Falat. et Amor. Soe. The first American,
from the Third London Edition Boston: Printed by Manning
& Loring, for David West, March, 1798.

DAVID HUMPHREYS.

373

and manners of the paupers by the kind treat-
ment they received. A large space is devoted to
a discussion of cheap food, one of the chapters on
this subject being headed, " Of the Pleasure of
Eating, and of the means that may be employed
for increasing it."

Joel Barlow, in the Mountains of Savoy, when
he retired for a while from the luxuries of Paris,
wrote a poem for the consolation of his frugal
countrymen at home, on the joys and associations
of Hasty Pudding. As a pendant to that quaint
production, the reader may desire to possess him-
self of Count Rumlbrd's scientific handling of the
6ame article : —

In regard to the most advantageous method of
using Indian Corn as food, I would strongly recom-
mend, particularly when it is employed for feeding
the pour, a dish made of it that is in the highest
estimation throughout America, and which is really
very good, and very nourishing. This is called
hasty-pudding ; and it is made in the following man-
ner: A quantity of water, proportioned to the
quantity of hasty-pudding intended to be made, is
put. over the fire in an open iron pot, or kettle, and
a proper quantity of salt for seasoning the pudding
being previously dissolved in the water, Indian meal
is stirred into it, by little and little, with a wooden
spoon with a long han/lle, while the water goes on
to be heated and made to boil; great care being
taken to put in the meal by very small quantities,
and by sitting it slowly through the fingers of the
left hand, and stirring the water about very briskly
at the same time with the wooden spoon, with the
right hand, to mix the meal with the water in such
a manner as to prevent lumps being formed. The
meal should be added so slowly, that, when the
water is brought to boil, the mass should not be
thicker than water-gruel, and half an hour more, .at
least, should be employed to add the additional
quantity of meal necessary for bringing the pudding
to be of the proper consistency ; during which time
it should be stirred about continually, and kept con-
stantly boiling. The method of determining when
the pudding has acquired the proper consistency is
this ; the wooden spoon used for stirring it being
placed upright in the middle of the kettle, if it falls
down, more meal must, be added ; but if the pudding
is sufficiently thick and adhesive to support it in a
vertical position, it is declared to be proof; and no
more meal is added. If the boiling, instead of being
continued only half an hour, be prolonged to three
quarters of an hour, or an hour, the pudding will be
considerably improved by this prolongation.

This hasty-pudding, when done, may be eaten in
various ways. It may be put, "while hot, by spoon-
fuls into a bowl of milk, and eaten with the milk
with a spoon, in lieu of bread ; and used in this way
it is remarkably palatable. It may likewise be eaten,
while hot, with a sauce composed of butter and
brown sugar, or butter and molasses, with or with-
out a few drops of vinegar; and however people
who have not been accustomed to this American
cookery may be prejudiced against it, they will find
upon trial that it makes a most excellent dish, and
one which never fails to be much liked by those who
are accustomed to it. The universal fondness of
Americans for it proves that it must have some
merit ; for in a country which produces all the deli-
cacies of the table in the greatest abundance, it is
not to be supposed that a whole nation should have
a taste so depraved as to give a decided preference
to any particular species of food which has not
something to recommend it.

The manner in which hasty-pudding is eaten with
butter and sugar, or butler and molasses, in America,
is as follows : The hasty-pudding being spread out
equally upon a plate, while hot, an excavation is
made in the middle of it, with a spoon, into which
excavation a piece of butter, as large as a nutmeg, is
put; and upon it, a spoonful of brown sugar, or
more commonly of molasses. The butter being soon
melted by the heat of the pudding, mixes with the
sugar, or molasses, and forms a sauce, which, being
confined in the excavation made for it, occupies the
middle of the plate. The pudding is then eateu
with a spoon, each spoonful of it being dipt into the
sauce before it is carried to the mouth ; care being
had in taking it up, to begin on the outside, or near
the brim of the plate, and to approach the centre by
regular advances, in order not to demolish too soon
the excavation which forms the reservoir for the
sauce.

Fireplaces and chimneys are one of his impor-
tant topics, and a volume is in great part devoted
to the construction of cooking apparatus, illus-
trated with diagrams and engravings.

The style of these essays is plain but clear. His
suggestions are extremely valuable, and anticipate
many of the ideas of Soyer and other authors on
dietetics of the present day.

DAVID HUMPHEEYS.

David Humphreys, a soldier of the Revolution,
who wrote patriotic and martial poetry in the
camp, the friend and household companion of
Washington, was born, the son of a Congrega-
tional clergyman, the Rev. Daniel Humphreys, in
Derby, Connecticut, in 1753. He was educated
at Yale College, where he fell in with Dwight
and Trumbull, with whom he formed a personal
and literary friendship, which was not neglected
in after life. At the beginning of the war he
entered the army, becoming attached to Putnam's
stalf as major, and in 1780 became aide, with the
rank of colonel, in Washington's start'; or as he
himself recites these military incidents of his
career in verse : —

With what high chiefs I play'd my early part,
With Parsons first, whose eye, with piercing ken,
Heads through the hearts the characters of men ;
Then how I aided, in the foll'wing scene,
Death-daring Putnam — -then immortal Greene —
Then how great Washington my youth approv'd,
In rank preferred, and as a parent lov'd.

To Putnam, Humphreys showed his gratitude by
writing his life — a smooth and complimentary
piece of biography, which certainly anticipates
no modern doubts of the bravery of " Old Put."*
His intercourse with Washington did not end
with the war. He accompanied him on his re-
tirement to Virginia, residing with him more
than a year, and again returning after his visit to
Europe, to live in this privileged house in 1788,
until Washington became President, when Hum-
phreys travelled with him to New York. Of his

* An Essay on the Life of the Honorable Major-General
Israel Putnam : addressed to the State. Society of the Cincin-
nati in Connecticut In the dedication to Colonel Wadsworth,
Which is dated Mount Vernon, in Virginia, Juno 4, 17SS, the
author says, "the inclosed manuscript justly claims indulgence
for its venial errors, as it is tiie first effort in biography that
has been made on this continent." Colonel Humphreys tor-
gets the labors of the Mathers in this line.

374

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

domestic intimacy with Washington, Humphreys,
in his Mount Vernon, an Ode, has left a grateful
reminiscence. Indeed, in his verses the reader is
never long out of sight of Washington. His gra-
titude never tires of expressing itself, and this is
a most amiable feature of his character. The man
was formed for friendship. His countenance is
full of benevolence, which in his long bachelor
days — before he married Miss Bulkier, an Eng-
lish lady of wealth at Lisbon, when he was
about forty-five — overflowed in kind remembran-
ces of his associates. In a pleasant poetical
epistle written to a young lady in Boston, and
dated at New Haven in 1780, he celebrates a
sleigh-ride journey which brought him among his
friends in Connecticut.

Some days elaps'd, I jogg'd quite brave on

And found my Trumbull at New Haven ;

Than whom, more humour never man did

Possess — nor lives a soul more candid —

But who, unsung, would know hereafter,

The repartees, and peals of laughter,

Or how much glee those laughters yield one,

Maugre the system Chesterfieldian !

Barlow I saw, and here began

My friendship for that spotless man ;

Whom, though the world does not yet know it,

Great nature form'd her loftiest poet.

But Dwight was absent at North-Hampton,

That bard sublime, and virtue's champion.

To whom the charms of verse belong,

The father, of our epic song.

During his war scenes he had written his Ad-
dress to the Armies of the Un ited States of America
in 1782, when he was encamped at Peekskill, and
the foe was in possession of New York and
Charleston. In this address he refers to President
Davies's celebrated early prophecy of the great-
ness of Washington in Virginia, in the old French
war.

Oh ! raised by heaven to save th' invaded state,
So spake the sage long since thy future fate.*

His battle-pieces are in an animated style, and
that he could fight as well as write, is witne>sed
by the sword which Congress voted him for his
bravery at the siege of Yorktown, of the stan-
dards taken at which place he was the honored
bearer to the government.! His poem, the Ad-
dress, was translated into French by the accom-
plished courtier and soldier of the early period
of the war, the Marquis de Chastellux. J From
the pictures of war in this production, the death-

* Ante, -p. 271.

t "This memorable event, his presenting the standards, was
painted by a Danish artist, when the poet and soldier was in
Europe, between 17S4 and 17SI1, as Secretory of Legation to
Mr. Jefferson." — Durdap's Am. Theatre, p. 89.

% Marquis de Chastellux to Franklin, Paris, June 21. 17SG. —
"When you were in France, there was no need praising the
Americans. We had only to say, look, here is their represent-
tedive. But however worthily your place may have since
been filled, it is not unreasonable to arouse anew the interest
of a kind-hearted but thoughtless nation, and to fix. from time
to time, its attention upon the great event to which it has had
the happiness of contributing. Such lias been my motive in
translating Colonel Humphreys's poem. My success has fully
equalled, and even surpassed, my expectation. Not only has
the public received the work with favor, but it has succeeded
perfectly at court, especially with the king and queen, who
have praised it highly.

"I have taken more pains to render my work an agreeable
one to read, than to make it an exact and faithful translation."
— Sparks's Works of Franklin, x. 2G3.

scenes of Scammel and Laurens, the author ani-
mates the soldiery by a view of the future bounty
lands of the West, in a description, the tranquil
contrast of which to the opening passages was
much admired by a French critic. The poem was
noticed in England, Chastellux speaking of its
having been read there in clubs, to which the
public was admitted.

In 1784, Humphreys, in the capacity of Secrc-

^y^^J^e^/^

tary of Legation, sailed for Europe with Jeffer-
son then proceeding to join his fellow commis-
sioners, Franklin and Adams, in Paris. The
vessel, the Coarrier de V Europe, left Boston in
July, and Kosciusko was one of the passengers.
Humphreys, always ready with his verses for the
occasion, wrote on board ship a poetical epistle
of the voyage to his friend Dr. Dwight, in which
he celebrates

Our Polish friend, whose name still sounds so hard.
To make it rhyme would puzzle any bard ;
That youth, whom bays and laurels early erown'd,
For virtue, science, aits, and arms renown'd.

The description of the cabin scenery would ap-
pear to have anticipated the glories of a Collins
steamer.

See the great cabin nigh, its doors unfold.
Show fleeting forms from mirrors fix'd in gold I
O'er painted ceilings brighter prospects rise,
And rural scenes again delight our eyes.

Showing how a little elegance may be more profit-
able to a man with a faculty of being pleased,
than a great display to a dull observer. Facts are
so sumptuous now, on a voyage to Liverpool, that
there is no room left for the imagination, and the
man who should write verses about plush or
gilded carving would be justly accounted a snob.
Dwight met this epistle by another dated
Greenfield, the next year, in whioh ho takes a

DAVID HUMPHREYS.

375

higher strain of eloquence, and cautions his
friend against the seductions of Europe. His
picture of the Travelled Ape in this production, is
one of the most vigorous passages of American
satire. A Poem on the Happiness of America,
addressed to the Citizens of the United States,
was written hy Humphreys during his residence
abroad, and is the longest of his productions,
extending to mo -e than a thousand lines. It puts
Washington's Farewell to the Army in verse,
celebrates the purity and simplicity of American
life, glances at the men of the old Continental
Congress.

His list'ning sons the sire shall oft remind,
"What parent sages first in Congress join'd;
The faithful Hancock grac'd that early scene,
Great Washington appear'd in godlike mien,
Jay, Laurens, Clinton, skill'd in ruling men,
And he, who earlier, held the farmer's pen.
'Twas Lee, illustrious at the father's head,
The daring way to independence led.
The self-taught Sherman urg'd Ids reasons clear,
And. all the Livingstons to freedom dear;
What countless names in fair procession throng,
With Rtttledge, Johnson, Nash demand the song!

And urges a naval crusade against the Algerines,
in those days the tyrants of the sea, and conclud-
ing poetically, and prophetically as it turned out
when Decatur took hold of them, with a brilliant
triumph over those marauders. In Humphreys's
volume of 1804, the copy of this poem is set
down as the tenth edition. Several of its topics
are again handled in the author's Poem on the
Future Glory of the. United States of America ;
indeed a certain monotony of subjects and treat-
ment runs through all his verses. He had little
variety in thought or execution.

Humphreys returned in 1780 to Connecticut,
where he was elected to the State Legislature,
appointed to the command of a regiment for the
western service, and where he joined his poetical
friends in the composition of the Anarchiad.*
Wc next find him on his second residence at
Mount Vernon, about this time employing his
leisure in translating, or, as his title-page calls it,
"imitating" from the French of M. de Mierre, a
tragedy (with a very happy ending) entitled, The
Widow of Malabar, which was acted hy Hallam's
old American Company at Philadelphia, in 1790.
It is a showy sketch of a play for stage purposes,
full of intensity in italics, and shrieks ascending
to small pica capitals. The ladj-, having just buried
a husband whom she never loved, is about to be
sacrificed, according to the custom of the country,
on the funeral pile. The young Brahmin whom
the high priest, in a brief summary stage style,
orders to look to the performance of the cere-
mony, turns out her brother, which is crisis
number one: then there is opportunely an in-
vading.army on hand, with one of whose officers
the lady had once been in love when travelling
from the Ganges. The preparation goes on with
passionate arguments and expostulations touching
the rite pro and con. The widow is at the pile,
which she has ascended, when at the last moment
for interruption the French general steps into the
rescue, and the curtain falls, but not until a very

* As the chief hand in this production was borne by Hop-
kins, we have placed our account of it in our notice of hiin.

clever epilogue written by the author of M'Fingal
is recited, which laughs at the agreeable termina-
tion of the painful affair, and pleasantly tells the
audience, with a travesty of Pope's verses, how
much better off Columbia's daughters are than
ladies subjected to such heathen dispensations.

For here, ye fair, no servile rites bear sway,
Nor force ye — (though ye promise) — to obey :
Blest in the mildness of tins temp'rate zone,
Slaves to no whims, or follies — but your own. —
Here custom, cheek'd in ev'ry rude excess,
Confines its influence to the arts of dress,
O'er charms eclips'd the side-long hat displays,
Extends the hoop, or pares away the stays,
Bedecks the fair witli artificial gear, •
Breast-works in front, and bishops in the rear : —
The idol rears, on beauty's dazzling throne,
Mankind her slaves, and all the world her own;
Bound by no laws a husband's whims to fear,
Obe}r in life, or burn tipon his bier ;
She views with equal eye, sublime o'er all,
A lover perish — or a lap-dog fall —
Coxcombs or monkeys from their chains broke

loose —
And now a husband dead — and now a goose.

Mrs. Henry, who recited the prologue, had a
word to the men, winch marks the time.

Your vict'ries won — your revolution ended —
Your constitution newly made — and mended —
Your fund of wit — your intellectual riches —
Plans in the closet — in the senate speeches —
Will mark this age of heroes, wits, and sages,
The first in story to the latest ages ! —
Go on — and prosper with your projects blest,
Till your millennium rises in the west: —
We wish success to your politic scheming,
Bule ye the world! — and then— be rul'd by
women ! —

Humphreys also wrote a comedy, which he
failed in hi9 attempts to get upon the stage.
Dunlap, who saw the author and the play in
Boston in 1805, relates how Humphreys en-
deavored to persuade the manager, Bernard, to
bring it out, how "it was extremely unlike those
comedies Bernard owed his fame to, and repaid
by imparting the vivifying influence of his art,"
and how " the wary comedian heard the poet
read, drank his Madeira, said ' very well ' now
and then — but never brought out the play."

In 1794 Humphreys was appointed the first
American ambassador to Lisbon,* wdiere he re-
sided for six years till 1797, when he became

* Of Humphreys's diplomatic business the author of M'Fingal
has some pleasant raillery in a letter to Oliver Wolcott, dated
Hartford, December 9, 17S9: — "Pray, congratulate Colonel
Humphreys, in my name, ou his late promotion in tlfe diplo-
matic line. If I understand the matter rightly, he holds the
same post which Cl'ispe promised George in the Vicar of Wake-
field. You remember Crispe told him there was an embassy
talked of from the Synod of'Petinsylvania to the Chickasaw
Indians, and he would use his interest to fret, him appointed
secretary. Tell him not to be discouraged too much at his
want of success. The President has tried him on M'G-illivray
first, and he did not suit the skull of the savage, bul^we cannot
argue from that circumstance that he could not fit as easy as a
full-bottomed wig upon the fat-headed, sot-headed, and crazy-
headed sovereigns of Europe. Tell hint this story also for his
comfort, and to encourage his hopes of speedy employment: A
king being angry with an ambassador, asked hit t whether his
master had no wise men at court, and was therefore obliged to
send him a fool ? ' Sire,' said the other. ' my master litis many
wise men about his court, bat he conceived me the most pro-
per ambassador to your Majesty.' Upon this principle I am
in daily expectation of hearing that lie is appointed minister
plenipo. to George, Louis, or the stadtholder." — Gibbss Me-
moirs of the Administrations of Washington aud John Adams.

376

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

minister to Spain, a post which he held till he
was succeeded by Pinckney in 1802. He then
returned to America, and engaged in the impor-
tation of merino sheep from Spain. He wrote a
dissertation on the subject in prose, ami employed
its capabilities in verse, in his poem On, the In-
dustry of the United States of America, which
was composed, he tells us, " on the delightful
banks of the Tagus, where his days were plea-
santly passed in the enjoyment of health, happi-
ness, and content."

Oh, might my guidance from the downs of Spain,

Lead a white flock across the western main ;

Fam'd like the bark that bore the Argonaut,

Should be the vessel with the burden fraught !

Clad in the raiment my Merinos yield,

Like Cineinnatus fed from my own field ;

Far from ambition, grandeur, care and strife,

In sweet fruition of domestic life ;

There would I pass with friends, beneath my trees,

What rests from public life, in letter'd ease.

His wish was gratified. He imported a hun-
dred of the " white flock," a fact which the Mas-
sachusetts Agricultural Society records on a me-
dal. When Madison, in 1809, took his oath of
office as president, he was -dressed in a full suit
of American woollens, of which Colonel Hum-
phreys's manufactory furnished the coat, and
Chancellor Livingston's the waistcoat and small-
clothes.* He was also employed in agricultural
improvements. The village of Humphreysville,
situated on Naugatuc river, in Connecticut, the
seat of a considerable manufacturing interest, was
named after him. He was a native of the town-
ship.

Ilurnpbreysville.

Humphreys appears to have been something
of a courtier at this time, keeping up an ac-
quaintance with foreign princes by his dedica-
tions. His Lore of Country, in celebration of
the twenty-third anniversary of Independence,
which he wrote in Spain, and published on his
return, is an admirable Fourth of July oration in
verse, full of revolutionary story and patriotism.
His last poetic tribute to his friend, and chief in-
spirer of his song, was rendered in a Poem on the

* National Intelligencer, quoted by Hildretb, Second Series,
iii. 149.

Death, of General Washington, pronounced at the
house of the American legation at Madrid, on the
4th July, 1800. He had already written a letter
to Mrs. Washington, dated on the 22d February
— the day, says he, " signalized by his birth, and
which was accustomed to be celebrated with
heartfelt festivity throughout the United States ;"
— and so may it ever be !

In 1812 he was appointed to the command of
two regiments of Connecticut soldiery, the " Ve-
teran Volunteers." The rest of his life was
passed in retirement. He died at New Haven,
February 21, 1818.

PTTT>-ASI"S ADVEXTCEE Wim TITE WOLF. — FEOM THE LIFE OP
GENEEAL PCT>~A.\L

In the year 1139, he removed from Salem to Pom-
fret, an inland fertile town in Connecticut, forty
miles east of Hartford. Having here purchased a
considerable tract of land, he applied himself suc-
cessfully to agriculture.

The first years on a new farm are not, however,
exempt from disasters and disappointments, which
can only be remedied by stubborn and patient in-
dustry. Our farmer, sufficiently occupied in build-
ing an house and barn, felling woods, making fences,
Bowing grain, planting orchards, and taking care of
his stock, had to encounter, in turn, the calamities
occasioned by drought in summer, blast in harvest,
loss of cattle in winter, and the desolation of his
sheep-fold by wolves. In one night he had seventy
fine sheep and goats killed, besides many lambs and
kids wounded. This havock was committed by a
she-wolf, which, with her annual wheljis, had for
several years infested the vicinity. The young were
commonly destroyed by the vigilance of the hunt-
ers, but the old one was too sagacious to lonie within
reach of gun-shot : upon being closely pursued, she
would generally fly to the western woods, and re-
turn the next winter with another litter of whelps.

This wolf, at length, became such an intolerable
nuisance that Mr. Putnam entered into a combina-
tion with five of his neighbours to hunt alternately
until they could destroy her. Two, by rotation,
were to be constantly in pursuit. It was known,
that, having lost the toes from one foot by a steel-
trap, she made one track shorter than the other.
By this vestige the pursuers recognised, in a light
snow, the route of this pernicious animal. Having
followed her to Connecticut river, and found she
had turned back in a direct course towards Pomfret,
they immediately returned, and by ten o'clock the
next morning the blood-hounds had driven her into
a den, about three miles distant from the house of
Mr. Putnam. The people soon collected with dogs,
guns, straw, fire, and sulphur, to attack the com-
mon enemy. With this apparatus, several unsuc-
cessful efforts were made to force her from the den.
The hounds came back badly wounded, and refused
to return. The smoke of blazing straw had no
effect. Nor did the fumes of burnt brimstone, with
which the cavern was filled, compel her to quit the
retirement. Wearied with such fruitless attempts,
(which had brought the time to ten o'clock at night,)
Mr. Putnam tried once more to make his deg enter,
but in vain. He proposed to his negro man to go
down into the cavern and shoot the wolf: the negro
declined the hazardous service. Then it was that
the master, angry at the disappointment, and de-
claring that he was ashamed to have a coward in
his family, resolved himself to destroy the ferocious
beast, lest she should escape through some unknown
fissure of the rock. His neighbours strongly remon-
strated against the perileus enterprise: but he.

DAVID HUMPHREYS.

377

knowing that wild animals were intimidated by fire,
and having provided several strips of birch-hark,
the only combustible material which he could ob-
tain that would afford light in this deep and dark-
some cave, prepared for his descent. Having, ac-
cordingly, divested himself of his coat and waistcoat,
and having a long rope fastened round his legs, by
which he might be pulled back, nt a concerted sig-
nal, he entered head-foremost, with the blazing torch
in his hand.

The aperture of the den, on the east side of a very
high ledge of rocks, is about two feet square ; from
thence it descends obliquely fifteen feet, then run-
ning horizontally about ten more, it ascends gradu-
ally sixteen feet towards its termination. The sides
of this subterraneous cavity are composed of smooth
and solid rocks, which seem to have been divided
from each other by some former earthquake. The
top and bottom are also of stone, and the entrance,
in winter, being covered with ice, is exceedingly
slippery. It is in no place high enough for a man
to raise himself upright, nor in any part more than
three feet in width.

Having groped his passage to the horizontal part
of the den, the most terrifying darkness appeared in
front of the dim circle of light afforded by his torch.
It was silent as the house of death. None but mon-
sters of the desert had ever before explored this so-
litary mansion of horror. He, cautiously proceed-
ing onward, came to the ascent, which he slowly
mounted on his hands and knees, until he discovered
the glaring eye-balls of the wolf, who was sitting at
the extremity of the cavern. Startled at the sight of
fire, she gnashed her teeth, and gave a sullen growl.
As soon as he hiid made the necessary discovery, he
kicked the rope as a signal for pulling him out. The
people at the mouth of the den, who had listened
with painful anxiety, hearing the growling of the
wolf, and supposing their friend to be in the most
imminent danger, drew him forth with such celerity
that his shirt was stripped over his head, and his
skin severely lacerate! After he had adjusted his
clothes, and loalel his gun with nine buck-shot,
holding a torch in one hand, and the musket in
the other, he descended the second time. When he
drew nearer than before, the wolf, assuming a still
more fierce and terrible appearance, howling, roll-
ing her eyes, snapping her teeth, and dropping her
head between her legs, was evidently in the atti-
tude, and on the point of springing at him. At the
critical instant he levelled and fired at her head.
Stuunel with the shock, and suffocated with the
smoke, he immediately found himself drawn out of
the cave. But having refreshed himself, and per-
mitted the smoke to dissipate, he went down the
third time. Once more he came within sight of the
wolf, who appearing very passive, he applied the
torch to her nose, and perceiving her dead, he took
hold of her ears, and then kicking the rope (still tied
round his legs) the people above, with no small ex-
ultation, dragged them both out together.

I have offered these facts in greater detail, be-
cause they contain a display of character ; and be-
cause they hnve been erroneously related in several
European publications, and very much mutilated in
the history of Connecticut, a work as replete with
falsehood as destitute of genius, lately printed in
Loudon.

MOtTNT VEItNON : AN ODE.*

By broad Potowmaek's azure tide,
Where Vernon's mount, in sylvan pride,
Displays its beauties far,

* "Written at Mount Vornou, August, 1786.

Great Washington, to peaceful shades,
Where no unhallow'd wish invades,
Retir'd from fields of war.

Angels might see, with joy, the sage,
Who taught the battle where to rage,

Or quench'd its spreading flame,
On works of peace employ that hand,
Which wav\l the blade of high command,

And hew'd the path to fame.

Let others sing his deeds in arms,

A nation sav'd, and conquest's charms :

Posterity shall hear,
'Twas nunc, return'd from Europe's eou; ts,
To share his thoughts, partake his sports,

And sooth his partial ear.

To thee, my friend, these lays belong:
Thy happy seat inspires my song,

With gay, perennial blooms,
With fruitage fair, and cool retreats,
Whose bow'ry wilderness of sweets

The ambient air perfumes.

Here spring its earliest buds displays,
Here latest on the leafless sprays ,

The plumy people sing ;
The vernal show'r, the rip'ning year,
Th' autumnal store, the winter drear,

For thee new pleasures bring.

Here lapp'd in philosophic ease,
Within thy walks, beneath thy trees

Amidst thine ample farms,
No vulgar converse heroes hold,
But past or future scenes unfold,

Or dwell on nature's charms.

What wondrous ajra have we seen,
Plac'd on this isthmus, half between

A rude and polish'd state !
We saw the war tempestuous rise,
In arms a world, in blood the skies,

In doubt an empire's fate.

The storm is calm'd, seren'd the heav'n.
And mildly o'er the climes of ev'n

Expands th' imperial day:
' 0 God, the source of light supreme,
Shed on our dusky morn a gleam,

To guide our doubtful way 1

" Restrain, dread Pow'r, our land from crimes I
What see"ks, though blest beyond all times,

So querulous an age ?
What means to freedom such disgust ;
Of change, of anarchy the lust,

The fickleness aud rage ?"

So spake his country's friend, with sighs,
To find that country still despise

The legacy he gave —
And half he fear'd his toils were vain,
And much that man would court a chain,

And live through vice a slave.

A transient gloom o'ercast his mind :
Yet, still on providence reclin'd,

The patriot fond believ'd,
■ That pow'r benign too much had done,
To leave an empire's task begun,

Imperfectly achiev'd.

Thus buoy'd with hope, with virtue blest,
Of ev'ry human bliss possess'd.

He meets the happier hours:
His skies assume a lovelier blue,
His prospects brighter rise to view,

And fairer bloom his flow'rs.

578

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

THE 8HEPHEED : A SONG.

(Translated from the French.)

It rains, it rains, my fair,

Come drive your white sheep fast :
To shelter quick repair,

Haste, shepherdess, make haste.

I hear the water pours,

With patt'ring on the vines:

See here ! see here ! it lours —
See there the lightning shines.

The thunder dost thou hear?

Loud roars the rushing storm:
Take (while we run, my dear,)

Protection from ray arm.

I see our cot, ah, hold !

Mamma and sister Nance,
To open our sheep-fold,

Most cheerily advance.

God bless my mother dear,

My sister Nancy too !
I bring my sweetheart here,

To sleep to-night with you.

Go dry yourself, my friend,
And make yourself at home —

Sister, on her attend :

Come in, sweet lambkins, come.

Mamma, let's take good care

Of all her pretty sheep ;
Her little lamb we'll spare

More straw whereon to sleep.

'Tis done — now let us haste
To her ; — you here, my fair I

Undress'd, oh, what a waist !
My mother, look you there.

Let's sup ; come take this place,

You«hall be next to me ;
This pine-knot's cheerful blaze

Shall shine direct on thee.

Come taste this cream so sweet,

This syllabub so warm;
Alas! you do not eat:

You feel e'en yet the storm.

'Twas wrong— I press'd too much
Your steps, when on the way ;

But here, see here, your couch — *
There sleep till dawn of day,

With gold the mountain tips: —
Good-night, good-night, my dove!

Now let me on your lips
Imprint one kiss of love.

Mamma and I will come,
As soon as morn shall shine,

To see my sweetheart home,
And ask her hand for mine.

THE MONKET,

Who shaved himself and his Fi

A Falle.
Addressed to the Hon.

iends.

A man who own'd a barber's shop
At York, and shav'd full many a fop, *
A monkey kept for their amusement ;
He made no other kind of use on't —
This monkey took great observation,
Was wonderful at imitation,
And all he saw the barber do.
He mimie'd straight, and did it too.

It chanc'd in shop, the dog and cat,
While friseur din'd, demurely sat,
Jacko found naught to play the knave in,
So thought he'd try his hand at shaving.
Around the shop in haste he rushes,
And gets the razors, soap, and brushes ;
Now puss he fix'd (no muscle miss stirs)
And lather'd well her beard and whisker's,
Then gave a gash, as he began —
The cat cry'd " waugh!" and off she ran.

Next Towser's beard he tried his skill in,
Though Towser seem'd somewhat unwilling:
As badly here again succeeding,
The dog runs howling round, and bleeding.

Nor yet was tir'd our roguish elf;
He'd seen the barber shave himself;
So by the glass, upon, the table,
He rubs' with soap his visage sable,
Then with left hand holds smooth his jaw, —
The razor in his dexter paw ;
Around he flourishes and slashes,
Till all his face is seam'd with gashes.
His cheeks dispatch'd — his visage thin
He cock'd, to shave beneath his chin;
Drew razor swift as he could pull it,
And cut, from ear to ear, his gullet.

Moral.
Who cannot write, yet handle pens,
Are apt to hurt themselves and friends.
Though others use them well, yet fools
Should never meddle with edge tools.

JAMES THACHEE,

The author of the American Medical Biogra-
phy, was born at Barnstable, Mas-achusetts, in
1754, of a New England family, which figures
conspicuously in the lists of Harvard College.
The close of his medical education with Dr.
Abner llersey, a noted Massachusetts physician,
brought him to the opening of the War of Inde-
pendence. He eagerly stepped forward in the
cause, and secured the post of surgeon's mate in
the provincial hospital at Cambridge. He next
became attached to one of the Eastern regiments,
and was engaged in the hospital duties after the
field at Saratoga. He was afterwards stationed at
the Highlands of the Hudson, and was at West
Point in 1780, at the tiriie of the treason of
Arnold, and witnessed the execution of Andre. '
He was also present at the surrender of Corn-
wallis. Of these and other incidents of the cam- .
paigns, he gave an interesting account, in his
Military Journal during the American Revolu-
tionary War, from 1775 to 1783, which was pub-
lished in 1824. After the war he settled in
Plymouth, Massachusetts, where he remained
engaged in the practice of his profession, and in
the composition of his numerous writings, till his
death, at the advanced age of ninety-one, in May,
184-4. Besides the Military Journal already men-
tioned, he was the author of an American New
Dispensatory, 1810 ; Observations on Hydrojjho-
bia, 1821 ; the Modern Practice of Physic, 1817 ;
the American Orchardist, 1822 ; a Practical
Treatise on the Management of Bees, 1829 ; an
Essay on Demonology, Ghosts, Apparitions, and
Popular Superstitions, 1831 ; a History of Ply-
mouth, 1832; besides various contributions to the
journals on medical and scientific topics. His
American Medical Biography, or Memoirs of
Eminent Physicians who have flourished in

COLUMBIA COLLEGE.

379

America, was published in two volumes, in 1828,
a work of diligence and authority which has
always commanded the respect of the profession.
The American Medical Biography, by Dr. Stephen
W. Williams,* may be regarded as a supplement
to this work.

COLUMBIA COLLEGE.
Fkom an intimation in the records of Trinity
church it would appear that, as early as the year
1700, it was the intention of the colonial govern-
ment, then represented by Lord (Jornbury, to
provide a site for a college on the island of New
York. The subject appears further to have oc-
cupied the attention of Ijishop Berkeley when his
Bermuda plan had failed. In 17413 a provincial
act was passed for raising money for the purpose
by lottery ; and in the next few years a sum ga-
thered in this way of more than three thousand
four hundred pounds, which was placed in the
hands of trustees, a majority of whom were mem-
bers of the Church of England, and a part of
whom belonged to the vestry of Trinity church.
The opposition to this Church of England interest
for a long time thwarted the plans of the college.
It was led by Mr. William Livingston, who agi-
tated the subject in his periodical, " The Indepen-
dent Reflector," striving to defeat the proposed
royal charter, and substitute another institution,
under an act of Assembly, to take possession of
the funds. The charter of King's College was,
however, granted on the 31st of October, 1754,
and Livingston again bent his efforts to set up
his own plan of a college. His opposition ended
simply in diverting one half of the funds set apart
to the city corporation, by which the college was
so tar the loser. Dr. Samuel Johnson had been
in the meantime invited from his parish at Strat-
ford to take charge of the new institution. A
better choice could not have been made. A
native of Guilford, Connecticut, and a graduate
of Yale, he was one of the young clergymen of
that region who accompanied President Cutler,
to England for Episcopal ordination. He returned
to Stratford a missionary of the Society for the
Propagation of the Gospel. He had become the
friend of Berkeley, whose theory of Idealism he

Bamuol Johnson.

'American Medical Biography: or Memoirs of Eminent
Physicians, embracing principally those who have died since
the publication of Dr. Thacher's work on the same subject.
Svo., Greenfield, Mass. 1S40.

adopted, and invited his liberality to Yale. The
University of Oxford had conferred on him the
degree of doctor in divinity. Dr. Franklin was
anxious that he should take charge of the Univer-
sity of Pennsylvania. With such honorable asso-
ciations he arrived at New York in his fifty-
eighth year.

Bishop Berkeley, who was acquainted with the
wishes of the friends of learning for a college in
New York, wrote from his see of Cloyne to
Johnson, in 1749. Anticipating the future spe-
ciality of the college, its attention to classical
studies, lie impressed upon the man marked out
for its president, that "the Greek and Latin
classics be well taught. Be this the first care as
to learning!" To this he added an injunction
for the principal care of" good life and morals ;"
recommends that the institution should start well,
with the infusion of " a good taste into the so-
ciety," by a handsome provision for its president
and fellows, and suggested that "small premiums
in books, or distinctions in habit, may prove use-
ful encouragements to the students."*

The college was organized in May, 1755, when
Trinity church conveyed to its governors the land
inclosed by Church, Barclay, and Murray streets
to the Hudson river.* The only conditions of '
the gift were that the president should always be
a member of the Church of England, and that its
liturgy should be used hi the service of the col-
lege. Beyond this there was to be no exclusion
for religious opinion. The college seal was adopt-
ed from a device prepared by the president.

Application was made to England for funds.
James Jay went over as applicant, and associated
with Dr. Smith, provost of the college in Phila-
delphia. A large sum was collected for both insti-
tutions. On the 23d of August the first stone of
the college building was laid by the governor,
Sir Charles Hardy, who had favored the object
at the outset, on his first arrival. The first Com-
mencement was held in 1758. The original build-
ing, the central portion of the present edifice, was
completed in 1700. The president, soon contem-
plating retirement from age, made application to
Archbishop Seeker, in England, for an assistant,
who might succeed to his office. Myles Cooper,
a young graduate of Oxford, a man of learning
and of some taste in poetry, was selected. Dr.
Johnson retired to Stratford, when Cooper be-
came president, in 1763, and pa-sed his days in
his ministry, till his death in 1772 at the age of
seventy-five. He wished at the close of his days
that he might die like his friend Berkeley, to
whom death came suddenly in the quiet of his
home, and a similar end was vouchsafed him.t
The poetical inscription on the monument over
his remains at Stratford, was written by Dr.
Cooper : —

If decent dignity, and modest mien,

The cheerful heart, and countenance serene ;

If pure religion arid unsullied truth,

His age's solace, and his search in youth ;

In charity, through all the rnce lie ran,

Still wishing well, and doing good to man ;

If learning free from pedantry and pride ;

* The letter is in the Appendix of Chandler's Life.
t Chandler's Life, p, 134.

380

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

If faith and virtue 'walking side by side ;

If well to mark his being's aim and end,

To shine through life the father and the friend ;

If these ambition in thy soul can raise,

Excite thy reverence or demand thy praise,

Reader, ere yet thou quit this earthly scene,

Revere his name, and be what he has been.

Johnson's life was written by his friend Dr.
Chandler, the zealous advocate of episcopacy, but
did not appear till 1805*

Besides a number of discourses and other writ-
ings on church topics, Dr. Johnson published, in
1740, a System of Morality and a Compendium
of Logic and Metaphysics, treatises with which
Benjamin Franklin was so pleased that he printed
them together in a volume in 1755, which was
reprinted in London, where also a third edition
appeared in 1754, corrected by the author, with
a preface by Dr. William Smith, afterwards pro-
vost of the College of Pennsylvania. An Eng-
lish and Hebrew Grammar, being the first short
rudiments of the two languages taught together,
to which is added a Synopsis of all the Parts of
Learning, appeared from his pen in London, in
1757.+

The name of the second^ president, Myles Coo-
per, being somewhat prominently connected with
the Revolutionary era in New York, and his
story furnishing several notable anecdotes, it may
be of interest to state particularly what is known
of his life and writings.

Myles Cooper came over to America in 1762.
lie brought a letter from Archbishop Seeker,
who had chosen him, at the request of the col-
lege, as a competent assistant and successor to
President Johnson. The amiable and useful friend
to America, Dr. Fotliergill, had a hand in this
appointment.! He was then but twenty-seven
years of age ; a youthful incumbent of so grave
an office, in which he was fully installed the fol-
lowing year. Cooper was born in 1735. -He
took the degree of Master of Arts at the Univer-
sity of Oxford in 1760, and the next year pub-
lished a volume of poems by subscription at that
city.§ They are occasional verses, amatory and
bacchanalian, full of the spirit of the old English
gentleman who sang of Chloe, Delia, and Silvia ;
put old stories of cuckoldry into epigrams, and
wrote heroic little poems on ladies' gaiters ; at
times subsiding into tranquillity in an ode to
Contentment, or some touching lines to a Sing-
ing Bird in Confinement, and rising — if it be
rising — into dull stanzas on sacred subjects ; for
all of these things did Myles Cooper in his salad
days at Oxford, before he came to America to
confront "sons of liberty" on the Hudson. It is
not likely that he brought many copies of his

* Thomas Bradbury Chandler was born in Woodstock, Con-
necticut, and was a graduate of Yale. He was ordained in Eng-
land in 1751, and became rector at Eiizabethtown, New Jersey,
on bis return. He died at the age of sixty-four, in 1790. His
chief writings were controversial, against Chauucy of Boston,
in defence of Episcopacy.

t An Historical Sketch of Columbia College, in the City of
New York, 184li, by N. F. Moore, late President. A small
volume compactly filled with important information. We
have been greatly indebted to its faithful narrative throughout
this notice.

t M'Vickar's Life of Bard, 29.

§ Poems on Several Occasions, by Myles Cooper, M.A., of
Queen's College, Oxford. 8peB rut animi nostra iimoreminor.
—Ovid. Oxford. Printed by W. Jackson. Svo.

Poems over for the use of the students and the
eyes- of sober Dr. Johnson of Connecticut, with
the letter of the archbishop. Some of his verses
are censurable, though the taste of the age al-
lowed publications then to gentlemen which the
more delicate standard of the present day would
reject.

It was one of the doctor's notions in his book
that power, bower, tower, should be printed
when they made one syllable in poetry, -powre,
bowre, towre, and he modestly states in his un-
settled, apologetic preface, that some of his poems
were imitations, and others were written by his
friends.

In this old British period the young president's
manners and convivial habits were much admired.
He was a member of a literary club, which, " like
those of modern days, mixed up a little literature
with a great deal of conviviality."*

On the breaking out of the Pievolution, Myles
Cooper, with Seabnry and Auchmuty, were active
on the Tory side in writing and scheming. Cooper
is said to have had a hand in the tract, a publi-
cation of the times — A Friendly Address to all
reasonable Americans, on the subject of our Poli-
tical Confusions ; in ichich the necessary conse-
quences of violently opposing the King's troops,
and of a 'general Non- Importation are fairly
stated ; which one of his pupils, the young Alex-
ander Hamilton, who had matriculated at the
college in 1774, answered with signal ability. He
is twice -mentioned in M'Fingal.

Cooper became exceedingly obnoxious to the

* M'Yickar's Life of Bard, 100. " Among its members were
Dr. Samuel Bard, Kenipe, attorney-general, Baehe, Joues,
Middleton, and Sherbrooke."

COLUMBIA COLLEGE.

381

people, as one of the Tory plotters, and in April,
1775, he and his friends received a significant
hint from a published letter, signed " Three Mil-
lions," to " fly for their lives, or anticipate their
doom by becoming their own executioners."*

On the night of May 10, of that year, after
Hamilton and his youthful companions had de-
stroyed the guns on the Battery, and one of their
comrades had fallen, the mob became incensed,
and proceeded to expel Dr. Cooper from the col-
lege. Hamilton and Troup, students, ascended
the steps, and, to restrain the rioters, Hamilton
addressed them " on the excessive impropriety of
their conduct, and the disgrace they were bring-
ing on the cause of liberty, of which they pro-
fessed to be the champions." Dr. Cooper, who
mistook the case and thought he was exciting the
people, cried out from an upper window, "Don't
listen to him, gentlemen ; he is crazy, he is crazy"
— but Hamilton kept them engaged till the Tory
president escaped.t He made his way half-dressed
over the college fence, and wandered about the
shore of the Hudson till near morning, when he
found shelter in the old Stuyvesant mansion in
the Bowery, where he passed the day, and was
at night taken on board the Kingfisher, Captain
James Montagu, an English ship-of-war in the
harbor, in which he sailed to England. J He kept
the anniversary of these events next year by writ-
ing a poem, full of the circumstances, which he
published in the Gentleman's Magazine for July,
1776. It is a favorable specimen of his poetical
powers.

STANZAS WRITTEN ON THE EVENING OF TITE 10TH OP MAT,
1776, BY AN EXILE FEOM AMEKICA.

To thee, 0 God, by whom I live,
The tribute of my soul to give

On this eventful day,
To thee, 0 God, my voice I raise ;
To thee address my grateful praise.

And swell the duteous lay.

Now has this orb unceasing run
Its annual circuit round the sun,

Since when the heirs of strife,
Led by the pale moon's midnight ray,
And bent on mischief, urged their way.

To seize my guiltless life.

At ease my weary limbs were laid,
And slumbers sweet around me shed

The blessings of repose :
Unconscious of the dark design,
1 knew no base intent was mine,

And therefore feared no foes.

When straight, a heav'n-directed youth,
Whom oft my lessons led to truth,

And honour's sacred shrine,
Advancing quick before the rest,
With trembling tongue my ear addrest,

Yet sure in voice divine :

" Awake ! awake ! the storm is nigh —
This instant rouse — this instant fly —

The next may be too late —
Four hundred men, a murderous band,
Access, importunate, demand,

And shake the groaning gate."

• Force's American Archives, Fourth. Series, ii. 3S9.
+ Life of Hamilton, by John 0. Hamilton, vol. i.
t Prest. N. F. Moore's Historical Sketch of Columbia Col-
lege, p. Gl, and Appendix.

I wake — I fly — while loud and near,
Dread execrations wound my ear,

And sore my soul dismay.
One avenue alone remained,
A speedy passage there I gained,

And winged my rapid way.

That moment, all the furious throng,
An entrance forcing, poured along,

And filled my peaceful cell ; '
Where harmless jest, and modest mirth.
And cheerful laughter oft had birth,

And joy was wont to dwell.

Not e'en the Muses' hallowed fane*
Their lawless fury can restrain,

Or check their headlong haste;
They push them from their solemn seats,
Profane their long revered retreats,

And lay their Pindus waste.

Nor yet content — but hoping still
Their impious purpose to fulfil,

They force each yielding door;
And while their curses load my head
With piercing steel they probe the bed.

And thirst for human gore.

Meanwhile along the sounding shore,
Where Hudson's waves incessant roar,

I work my weary way;
And skirt the windings of the tide,
My faithful pupil by my side,

Nor wish the approach of day.

At length, ascending from the beach,
With hopes revived, by morn I reach

The good Palemon's cot ;
Where, free from terror and affright,
I calmly wait the coming night

My every fear forgot.

'Twos then I scaled the vessel's side,-)*
Where all the amities abide,

That mortal worth can boast ;
Whence, with a longing, lingering view,
I bade my much loved York adieu,

And sought my native coast.

Now, all composed, from danger far,
I hear no more the din of war,

Nor shudder at alarms ;
But safely sink each night to rest,
No malice rankling through my breast,

Iii Freedom's fostering arms.

Though stript of most the world admires,
Yet, torn by few untamed desires,

I rest in calm content ;
And humbly hope a gracious Lord
Again those blessings will afford

Which once his bounty lent.

Yet, still, for many a faithful friend,
Shall, day by day, my vows ascend

Thy dwelling, O my God!
"Who steady still in virtue's cause,
Despising faction's mimic laws,

The paths of peace have trod.

Nor yet for friend* alone — for all,

Too prone to heed sedition's call,

Ileal- me, indulgent Ucav'n !

* ne alludes to the college edifice converted into a military
hospital, and which a note on this passage intended for his
English readers describes as — "an elegant edifice, since con-
verted into common barracks.1'

t The Kingfisher, Captain James Montngu.

3S2

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

" 0 may they oast their arms away,
To Thee and George submission pay,
Repent, and be forgiven."

Upon bis arrival in England Dr. Cooper be-
came one of the ministers of the English Chapel
in Edinburgh,* in which capacity he died at that
city, suddenly, May 1, 1785. The epitaph which
he wrote for himself is characteristic : —

Here lies a priest of English blood,

'Who, living, lik'd whate'er was good ;

Good company, good wine, good name,

Yet never hunted after fame ;

But as the first he still preferr'd,

So here he chose to be interr'd,

And, unobscur'd, froni crowds withdrew

To rest among a chosen few,

In humble hopes that Sovereign love

Will raise him to be blest above.

His portrait, which hangs in the college library,
was engraved for a biographical article in the
American Medical and Philosophical Begister.i
It exhibits his happy constitutional temperament.

Upon the flight of Dr. Cooper in 1775, the
Rev. Benjamin Moore was appointed president
pro tern., but the college education was soon en-
tirely interrupted by the Revolution. The build-
ing was taken possession of as a military hospital ;
the library, containing many valuable works from
the University of Oxford and other sources, was
removed and almost destroyed, but a few of the
books coming to light many years afterwards in a
room of St. Paul's chapel. There were conse-
quently no graduates from 1776 to 1784. On the
restoration of peace the iron crown was removed
from the cupola of King's College, which hence-
forth, by the act of 1784, and under the new or-
ganization of trustees established in 1787, became
Columbia College. The first student who pre-
sented himself after the Revolution was Devvitt
Clinton; one of the last who left the college be-
fore it was Alexander Hamilton. John Ran-
dolph, of Virginia, appears among the early stu-
dents of the restoration.

A new president was appointed in 1787, "Wil-
liam Samuel Johnson, of Stratford, son of the
first incumbent. He was fifty years of age at the
time, was a graduate of Yale arid Harvard, had
been a delegate to Congress of 1705 at New York,
and agent of Connecticut in England, where he
formed the acquaintance of such men as Seeker,
Berkeley, Lowth, and others, including the levia-
than Dr. Samuel Johnson, who became his corre-
spondent on his return to America. He was a
Fellow of the Royal Society, and had the degree
of doctor of divinity from Oxford. Among other
honors and offices he was delegate to the Con-
vention of the Constitution of the United States,
and exercised an important influence in its deli-
berations. While Congress sat in New York he
represented his native state in that body, assist-
ing with Ellsworth in the formation of the judi-
ciary, and on its removal to Philadelphia resigned
his senatorship, and occupied himself exclusively
with the government of the college till Ins with-
drawal in 1800 from the infirmities of years. He

* Arnnt's Hist. Edinburgh, p. 2S6.
t Vol. iii. 29?.

died in Stratford, in 1810, at the age of ninety-
two. Verplanck has applied to his retirement
the lines of Dr. Johnson : — ■ ,

The virtues of a temperate prime,
Bless with an age exempt from scorn or crime
And age that melts with unperceived decay,
And glides in pious innocence away ;
Whose peaceful day benevolence endears,
Whose night congratulating conscience cheers,
The general fav'rite as the geueraV friend,
Such age there is, and who shall wish its end?*

The Rev. Charles Wharton, of Philadelphia,
was elected his successor, but immediately resign-
ing, the Rt. Rev. Benjamin Moore was chosen,
arid held the office from 1801 to 1811.

The Rev. William Harris succeeded Bishop
Moore for a period of eighteen years, till 1829.
For the first six years of his administration Dr.
John M. Mason was in a manner associated with
the office, with the title of provost, an officer
who, in the absence of the president, was to sup-
ply his place.

The Hon. William A. Duer, elected at the close
of 1829, discharged the duties of the office till
1812.

William Alexander Duer was born September
8, 1780, at Rhinebeck, Dutchess county, New
York. His father was Commissary-General for
the Northern Department, and a member of the
Committee of Public Safety. After the declara-
tion of peace, 1783, he began the study of law
with the eminent Peter S. Duponcean, in Phila-
delphia, and continued it with the late Nathaniel
Pendleton of New York. During the quasi war
with France of 1798, he obtained the appoint-
ment of midshipman in the Navy, and served
under Decatur. On the adjustment of the
French question he resumed his law studies with
Pendleton, and being admitted to the bar in
1802, shortly afterwards formed a connexion in
business with Edward Livingston, who was then
district attorney and mayor of the city, which
continued until the latter's removal to New Or-
leans. He then formed a professional partner-
ship with his brother-in-law, Beverly Robinson.
About this period he made his first essays in
authorship as a contributor to a partisan weekly
paper, the Corrector, conducted by Dr. Peter
Irving, and enlisted in the support of Burr. It
was a temporary affair, and the parties engaged
in it were by no means committed subsequently
to any disaffection towaids the high character
of General Hamilton. Mr. Duer shortly after
joined Livingston at New Orleans, and devoted
himself to the study of the Spanish civil law.
He was successful, but was induced by the cli-
mate and his marriage with a lady of New York,
the daughter of William Denning, a prominent
Whig of the Revolution, to resume his practice
in the latter city. In his new position he con-
tributed literary articles to his friend Dr. Iving's
newspaper, the Morning Chronicle. He next
opened an office in his native town, Rhine-
beck, and in 1814 was elected to the State As-
sembly. In this position he was appointed chair-
man of a committee on colleges, academies, and

* Quoted in'Vcrplanek's Art. on Prest Johnson in Knapp'e
Am. ljiog.

COLUMBIA COLLEGE.

383

other interests of science and literature, and suc-
ceeded in the passage of a bill which is the
original of the existing law on the subject of the
common school income. He was also chairman
of the important committee which arraigned the
constitutionality of the state law vesting the
right of river-navigation in Livingston and Ful-
ton* He continued in the legislature till 1817.
Daring this time he bore a prominent part in
laying the foundation of the present canal legis-
lation, and employed his efforts to check abuses
growing out of the old lottery system. In 1822,
with the adjustment of the courts under the new
constitution, he was appointed judge of the Su-
preme Court in the third circuit, and held the
office for seven years, till his appointment to the
presidency of Columbia College. In his new
administration he soon arranged a better dis-
tribution of college studies, and added one hour
daily by the system to the time of instruction,
taking charge himself of the exercises of the
Freshman class in English composition, and de-
livering to the seniors a course of lectures on
the constitutional jurisprudence of the United
States. These "outlines" were published in
1833, and subsequently revised and issued in
Messrs. Harper's "Family" and "School Dis-
trict" libraries. Dr. Doer's presidency of the
college, which closed with his retirement in ill
health in 1842, win marked by his high-toned
and gentlemanly administration of its affairs.
His courtesy, while it called for little exercise of
discipline, secured him the respect of the stu-
dents. During this period, at the request of the
corporation, he delivered a eulogy upon President
Monroe, which was pronounced in the open air
from the portico of the City Hall. Since his re-
tirement President Duer has resided at Morris-
town, Njw Jersey. His restored health and lei-
sure have given him opportunity for literary
pursuits, which he has availed himself of to
write the life of his maternal grandfather Lord
Stirling, which has been published as a volume
of their collections by the Historical Society of
New Jersey. In 1817 he delivered in the col-
lege chapel an address before the literary socie-
ties of Columbia, which has been published; and
in 1848 an historical address of interest before
the St Nicholas Society, in which he reviews
his early reminiscences of New York, and de-
scribes the scenes connected with the inaugura-
tion of Washington. This was published, and
forms a valuable contribution to American histo-
rical memoirs.

Judge Duer was succeeded by Nathaniel F.
Moore, who held the office till the autumn of
1849, when he resigned it and retired to private
life.

Nathaniel F. Moore was born at Newtown,
Long Island, on the 25th of December, 1782.
His father, William Moore, removed to New
York in the following autumn, and there con-
tinued to reside in the practice of his profession,
as a highly respected physician, until 1824. Na-
thaniel was prepared for college by Mr. Samuel
Rudd. He pursued his studies at Columbia Col-
lege, and took his degree of A.B. in the year 1802,

* Art. Fitch's and Fulton's Steam-Navigation. — Putnam's
Monthly Mag., Jan., 1SS5.

during the presidency of his uncle, the Rt. Rev.
Bishop Moore. On this occasion he delivered the
salutatory addres->, with an oration, De Astrono-

' rnim Laudibus. After leaving college Mr. Moore
studied law under Beverly Robinson, and was
admitted to the bar in 1S05. In the year 1817
he was appointed adjunct professor of the Greek
and Latin languages in his alma mater, and soon
after, in 1820, he succeeded Dr. Wilson as pro-
fessor in the same department. In 1825 he re-

'. ceived from Columbia College the degree of
LL.D., which in this conferred on him another
mark of her approbation of his faithful and valu-

: able services. In 1835 he resigned his professor-
ship and made a visit to Europe. On Ids return
in 1837 the college purchased his valuable libra-

: ry, and appointed him librarian, an office which
he held only long enough to reorganize the libra-

| ry, incorporate his own books therewith, and
make a catalogue of the whole collection. In

: 1839 he again went abroad, and, on this occa-

\ sion, he visited Greece, Egypt, and the Holy
Land. Dr. Moore has not been a voluminous
writer, but he has made some very valuable ad-
ditions to the clas-ical publications of this coun-
try, particularly in the work entitled Ancient
Mineralogy. He published also Remarks on the
Pronunciation of the Greek Language, in reply
to a pamphlet of Mr. Pickering's on the same
subject ; Lectures on the Greek Language and
Literature, and An Historical Sketch of Colum-
bia College, besides several smaller pamphlets
and essays.

The successor of Dr. Moore in the presidency,
Charles King, the second son of Rufus King, was
born in the City of New York, March 16, 1789.
His mother was Mary ALop, of an eminent family
of the state. He removed with his family to
England in 1796, when Rufus King was appoint-
ed by Washington minister to the English court.
He received there the principal part of his edu-
cation. After passing a year or two at a prepa-
ratory school, near London, he was sent with his
brother John A. King to Harrow, one of the large
public schools of England. Alter five years spent
at that school, where among the companions of
about his own age were Lord Byron and the late
Sir Robert Peel, he went to Paris, and passed a
year at one of the chief schools in that city, a
school under the special patronage of the Em-
press Josephine, two of whose nephews, the'Tas-
cher de la Pageries, were among the scholars.

At Paris he witnessed the early scenes of the
Empire, the review of the troops, and the de-
parture for the campaign which was decided at
Austerlitz. From these scenes of war he was
withdrawn on the return of Rufus King to tho
United States, to take his place, in pursuance of
an arrangement made with Sir Francis Baring
of London, the eminent banker and friend of his
father, as a clerk in the house of Hope & Co. at
Amsterdam. At the close of the year 1806 he
returned to his native country after an absence
of ten years, and was soon admitted a clerk in
the mercantile house of Archibald Grade. In
1810 he married the eldest daughter of Mr. Gra-
de, and became partner with him in his emi-
nently prosperous career of commerce, which
terminated disastrously, however, in 1823, when
the partnership was dissolved.

384

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

During the war of 1812 Mr. King was twice
called into the military service of the United
States. In the autumn of 1813 he was chosen
one of the representatives from the city, to the
legislature of the state; but after serving one
term declined a re-election. Called by the affairs
of his house to Europe he spent two years there,
accompanied by his family, returning to the Uni-
ted States in 1817.

Two years after this date, in 1819, appeared
the first number of the New York American,
which was in the commencement conducted by
James A. Hamilton, Johnston Verplanck, and
Charles King. The paper was bold and aggres-
sive, and made itself feared. At the close of the
first year Messrs. Hamilton and King withdrew
from any active and responsible connexion with
the paper to the more pressing calls of their re-
spective avocations, and Mr. Verplanck remained
sole editor. He converted the weekly into a
dailyT paper, still preserving its first name.

At that time the newspapers of the city were
the old Gazette of Lang and Turner, and the Mer-
cantile Advertiser of Butler, both mainly ad-
vertising sheets and records of ship-news, with
perhaps a column or two daily of general in-
telligence. The Daily Advertiser by Theodore
Dwight, and the National Advocate by M. M.
Noah, were the two political morning papers.
The evening papers were the Evening Post by
"William Coleman, the Commercial Advertiser by
Zachariah Lewis and William L. Stone, and the
Columbian by Charles Holt, and afterwards Na-
thaniel H. Carter. Among these, but very dif-
ferent in tone and aims from all of them, the
New York American took its place. For three
years Mr. Verplanck conducted the paper, at the
end of which time Mr. King, whose commercial
career was ended, became again his associate,
and after a few months, upon Mr. Verplanck re-
tiring into the country, the sole proprietor and
editor of the New York American. It remained
under his exclusive charge and management until
1847, when it was merged in the New York
Courier and Enquirer.

But although sole editor, Mr. King had many
and able correspondents and contributors. Among
them were Joseph Blunt and Nathaniel B. Blunt,
Charles F. Hoffman, A. Robertson Bodgers, Cu-
ban C. Verplanck, John and William A. Duer,
Kudolph Bunner, Edmund H. Pendleton, John
A. Dix, Henry Carv, the Rev. Dr. Bethune, Ri-
chard Ray ; and among its correspondents from
AYashington, Rufus King, John Quiney Adams,
Henry Clay, Senator Mills of Mass., Senator
Johnson of Louisiana, and Henry R. Storrs of
the House of Representatives.

One position the American always held. At
a period when coarse personalities were the ha-
bitual language of editorial contests, it always
treated its newspaper opponents as impersonali-
ties, directing its arguments, in its often very
plain talk, against the newspaper by name and
not against the editor. In another walk the
American led the way to a liberal improvement
of the newspaper, now generally adopted, in its
full literary articles, in which each Saturday the
books of the week were passed under review
with copious extracts. Its independence, allied
with a due sense of responsibility, were features

of Mr. King's editorship. The journal, too, was
governed by a principle of taste involving a high
question of morals, in its careful abstinence from
vulgar and vicious means of excitement. It care-
fully rejected horrors, both physical and moral,
from its columns ; while the contrary practice,
leading to immediate profit, has too frequently
prevailed to the corruption of the public mind.

After a brief editorial connexion with the
Courier and Enquirer, Mr. King, in the spring of
1848, withdrew to private life.

In November of that year he was elected Pre-
sident of Columbia College, and immediately en-
tered upon the duties of that office, which he still
occupies.

For the preceding ten or twelve years Mr.
King had been a resident of the State of New
Jersey, at Elizabethtown, whence he daily came
to New York. His residence in New Jersey gave
additional significance to the degree of LL.D.,
which was conferred upon him at a special ses-
sion of the college at Princeton, immediately
upon his election to the presidency of Columbia
College. A few weeks afterwards Harvard Col-
lege, where his father had been graduated nearly
seventy years before, also conferred upon him the
like degree of doctor of laws.

Of the old Profe-sors of this institution, the
Rev. Dr. John C. Kunze held a Professorship of
ancient languages from 1784 to 1787, and from
1792 to 1795. He was a native of Saxony, and
had been educated at the Halle orphan-house and
studied theology at the University of that city.
From Halle he was called, in 1771, to the service
of the Lutheran congregations, in Philadelphia,
of St. Michael's and Zion's churches, where he
continued fourteen years. He was one of the
first of his educated countrymen in America to
urge the propriety of educating the German youth
in English. By maintaining a contrary course,
the German and Dutch congregations, where the
preaching was kept up in those languages, lost
many of their members. From Philadelphia Dr.
Kunze came to New York, and took charge of
the German Lutheran church. At this time he
composed a hymn-book of German hymns trans-
lated into English verse, in which he mostly pre-
served the metre of the original. He also com-
posed a liturgy and catechism in English. His
position in New York, and the estimate set upon
his learning, may be judged of from his appoint-
ments in Columbia College. On the formation of
a second synod of the American Lutheran Church,
he was elected its first President, a position which
he accepted to carry out his liberal views in
adopting the use of the Engli>h language in
churches and in education. The benevolence of
his character was celebrated. He died in 1807,
after twenty-four years passed with his congrega-
tion at New York.*

Of John Kemp, the Professor of Mathematics
and Natural Philosophy from 1786 to his death
in 1812, Professor Eenwiek, in his alumni address,
speaks in high terms, attributing to him an im-
portant influence in moulding the views of De

* History of the American Lutheran Church, from its com-
mencement, in the year of our Lord 10S5, to the year 1S42.
By Ernest L. Hazelius. D.D.. Professor of Theology in the
Theological Seminary of the Lutheran Synod of S. C.,' pp. 1L0,
132.

COLUMBIA COLLEGE.

385

Witt Clinton on topics of internal improvement
and national policy* Kemp's interest in the sub-
ject led him, in 1810, to make a journey to Lake
Erie, to satisfy himself of the project of the canal,
which he pronounced, in advance of the surveys,
entirely practicable. Kemp served the college for
a long period and with signal ability.

Peter Wilson was Professor of the Greek and
Latin languages, with a short interval of service,
from 1789 to 1820, when he retired on a pension.
He was a native of Scotland, and was educated
at Aberdeen. lie prepared a Greek Prosody
which was long in use, and edited Sallust.

Verplanck speaks of Dr. John Bowden, the
Professor of Moral Philosophy and Logic from
1801 till 1817, " with a pupil's grateful remem-
brance, as a scholar, a reasoner, and a gentleman,"
and commemorates " his pure taste, his deep and
accurate erudition, his logical acnteness, and the
dignified rectitude of his principles and charac-

ter."t

The Rev. Dr. John M'Vickar, whose occupa-
tion of the Professorship of Moral Philosophy,
Rhetoric, and Belles Lettres, dates from 1817, was
born in 1787, and was a graduate of the college
with the class of 1804. He then passed some
time at Cambridge, in England: He was settled
as a clergyman at Hyde Park, from 1811 to
1817.

In 1822, Professor M'Vickar paid an amiable
tribute to the family with which he had become
connected in marriage, by the publication of A
Domestic Narrative of the Life of Samuel Bard,
one of the old New York celebrities, the physi-
cian of Washington, whose father had been the
companion of Franklin. This domestic narrative
belongs to a valuable class of compositions in
reference to the early history of the country,
which are seldom executed with the same skill.
Its picture of the old New York society, and of
the friends gathered around its subject in his re-
tirement at Hyde Park, is of permanent interest.

Dr. Bard deserves mention in the history of
education in America, for his services to Colum-
bia College after the war, in his lectures on
Natural Philosophy, one of the fruits of his dis-
cipline at Edinburgh in the great days of its
University ; his earlier establishment of the Medi-
cal School in New York, then attached to the
College, of which he was Professor of the Theory
and Practice of Medicine from 1707 to 1776 ; his
services to other medical institutions of the city ;
and his occasional addresses, chiefly on topics
connected with his profession. He died at Hyde
Park, May 24, 1821, in his eightieth year, twenty-
four hours after the death of his wife, with whom
ho had lived for fifty-five years.

In 1825, Dr. M'Vickar published a volume,
Outlines of Political Economy. In 1834, he pub-
lished a memoir of Bishop Hobart with the title
Early Years, followed in 1836 by The Pro-
fessional Years of Bishop Hobart. He is also
the author of numerous essays, addresses, reviews,
and occasional publications. He has hold impor-
tant positions in the church and the diocese, and
is a member of the Standing Committee. Of late

* Discourse on Do "Witt Clinton, pp. IT, 20.

t Address before (he Phitolexian and Pcithologian Societies,
1SS0. By Gulian C. Verplanck.
' VOL. I. — 25

years he has been chaplain to the station of the
United States forces at Governor's Island. As a
college professor, Dr. M'Vickar has pursued the
higher interests of the subjects intrusted to his
hands with signal tact and ability. His course
of instruction is eminently clear and practical,
while he quietly but efficiently leads the student
in the discipline of taste and philosophy.

The connexion of Dr. Charles Anthon with
the college, which has so greatly promoted and
established its repute for classical studies, dates
from the year 1820, when at the age of twenty-
three, having been a graduate of the college in
1815, and divided his law studies of the interim
with ancient literature, he was appointed adjunct
professor of Greek and Latin languages. In 1830
he took the title of Jay professor of these studies,
and in 1835, on the resignation of Dr. Moore,
succeeded to the leading chair in these depart-
ments. A grammar-school, in union with the
college, having been projected in 1S27, and hav-
ing gone into successful operation in the building
on the college grounds in Murray street erected
for the purpose, Professor Anthon, in 1830,
succeeded the first rector, John D. Ogilby, a good
scholar, and with a warm generous nature, who
subsequently entered the Episcopal ministry, and
became eminent, as Professor of Ecclesiastical
History, in the General Protestant Episcopal The-
ological Seminary at New York.

The long series of Professor Anthon's classical
publications dates from this time, commencing
with an edition of Horace, in two octavo volumes,
in 1830, laden with the rich stores of learning of
this fruitful topic, and enlivened by the enthusi-
astic labor of the youthful scholar. It was by
far the best specimen of scholarship in this walk
of literature which the country had then seen,
and still maintains its place as a valuable library
edition, while in a slightly curtailed form it is
generally in use with teachers and pupils. To
the Horace succeeded similar annotated editions
of Sallust, Cicero, Cassar, the yEneid, the Ec-
logues, and Georgics, six books of the Iliad, the
Germania and Agricola of Tacitus, Xenophon's
Anabasis and Memorabilia, the Treatise on Old
Age and Tusculan Disputations of Cicero*

Among other services to classical studies was
Anthon's displacement of the old meagre edition
of Lempriere's Dictionary, which, at the date of
his Jay professorship, was the best work in use of
its kind. It was lirst enlarged by him in several
editions — each an improvement on the previous
one — and afterwards entirely superseded by his
Classical Dictionary in 1841. In his works in
illustration of the ancient languages and litera-
ture; his several elementary and other gram-
mars ; his volumes on the composition and pro-
sody of both tongues ; his manuals of Ancient
Geography, and his Greek and Roman Antiqui-
ties, he has brought together the amplest stores
of foreign scholarship.

A glance at the old copies of Lempriere, and
at the grammars and other books of classical in-
struction in use in the country in the first quar-

* Tho first publishers of Dr. Anthon's books were G. and C.
Carvill, in Broadway. In 1888, the extensive classical S"rioa
"was undertaken by the Harpers, and now forms one of the
largest sections of the volume of their trade catalogue.

386

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

ter of the century, will show the rapid develop-
ment which dates from the beginning of Dr.
Anthon's labors. In the preface to his present
Classical Dictionary, he tells us of the surprise
created with the trade, when, in 1825, he pro-
posed making some alterations in the text of
Lempriere, and how he received for answer,
that " one might as well think of making altera-
tions in the Scriptures as in the pages of Dr.
Lempriere." When an opportunity was once
gained to exhibit the new stores of German and
English acquisition, the progress was rapidly on-
ward. The books of Dr. Anthon became dis-
tinguished for the fulness and accuracy of their
information, and still hold their ground by their
ample illustrations of the text. As a critic of
the ancient languages he is ingenious and acute,
while his scholarship and reading cover the vast
field of classical investigation in various depart-
ments of philosophy, history, art, and literature.
The personal influence and resources of Dr.
Anthon, his vivacity and quickness of illustration,
are commensurate with these extended labors,
which sit lightly upon an iron constitution. He
still, as rector of the grammar-school and in his
Professor's chair, pursues and enlivens the daily
toil of tuition, communicating to hi-; pupils an
enthusiasm for his favorite studies. His literary
labors in the illustration of the classics are still
in progress; editions of Ovid's Metamorphoses
and Terence's Comedies having been interrupted
only for a short time, by the tire which destroyed
the premises of the Messrs. Harper, in Decem-
ber, 1853.

Professor James Renwick, a graduate of the
College of the year 1807, filled the chair of Na-
tural and Experimental Philosophy and Chemis-
try from 1820 to 1854. During this time he
occupied a prominent position as a man of science
through his contributions to the journals and
leading reviews, his lectures before scientific asso-
ciations, and his occasional engagements in pub-

he services. He was one of the United States
Commissioners in the survey of the North-Eastern
boundary. His writings are numerous. He
published works on Chemistry, Natural Philoso-
phy, Practical Mechanics, and a Treatise on the
Steam-Engine, which are in use as College text-
books. To Sparks's series of American Biogra-
phies he contributed the Lives of Piittenhouse,
Robert Fulton, and Count Rumford; and to
Harpers' Family Library a Life of DeWitt Clin-
ton, whose " Character and Public Services" he
had made the subject of a discourse before the
Alumni of the College in 1829.

Dr. Henry J. Anderson received his appoint-
ment as Professor of Mathematics, Analytical
Mechanics, and Physical Astronomy, in 1825, and
resigned it in 1843. His highly trained scientific
culture did honor to the institution. In 1828
he contributed to the American Philosophical So-
ciety a paper on the Motion of Solids on Surfaces,
in the two Hypotheses of perfect sliding and per-
fect rolling, with a particular Examination of
their small oscillatory motions.* Since his re-
tirement from the College he has travelled in
Europe, and been attached to Lieut. Lynch's Ex-
ploring Expedition to the Dead Sea and the River
Jordan, as the geologist of the company. His
Geological Reconnoksance of part of the Holy
Land, made in April and May. 1848, including
the Regions of the Libanus, Northern Galilee,
the Valley of the Jordan, and the Dead Sea, has
been published by the Government.

Professor Henry Drisler, adjunct professor of
Greek and Latin, has been connected with the
College since 1843. His frequent association
with Dr. Anthon in the preparation of his edi-
tions of the classics appears from the introduc-
tions to those works, while his edition of the
Greek-English Lexicon of Liddell and Scott,
bearing date 1846, is an additional proof of the
fidelity of his scholarship.

The real estate owned by Columbia College is

valuable, though heretofore its income has not
greatly profited from this source. It consists of
the real estate in the third ward of the city now
occupied by the College, which is estimated at

Columbia College.

more than half a million of dollars; and of the

* Transactions Am. Philos. Soc. Hi., New Series, 1SS0, rp.
315-3S2.

THE CHARLESTON LIBRARY: NEW YORK SOCIETY LIBRARY.

38T

property in the nineteenth ward, once occupied
as the Botanic Garden, which was granted to the
College by the Legislature in 1814. The latter,
now lying in the Fifth Avenue, includes twenty-
one acres, comprising two hundred and twenty-
five building lots, exclusive of the streets, and is
set down in round numbers at four hundred
thousand dollars in value. This has been hither-
to unproductive, but is now in process of grading
by the College, and will soon yield a large in-
come. In addition to this real estate the College
derives a rent of upwards of nineteen thousand
dollars from other property in the third ward,
under lease. The annual expenditures of the
College, for the last fifteen years, have been about
twenty-two thousand dollars; and the income
from students, who pay an annual fee of ninety
dollars each, about nine thousand dollars.*

THE CHARLESTON LIBRARY— THE NEW YORK SO-
CIETY LIBRARY.

The three oldest public library associations in the
country, disconnected with colleges, are the Li-
brary Company of Philadelphia, the Library So-
ciety of Charleston, S. C, and the New York So-
ciety Library. Of the first we have already spoken.
The second was founded in 1748 by an association
of seventeen young men, who in that year uni-
ted in raising a fund to "collect new pamphlets"
and magazines published in Great Britain. They
remitted ten pounds to England, and by the close
of the same year expanded their. plan to that of a
public library. In 1750 their numbers had in-
creased to one hundred and sixty. A charter
was obtained in 1755 ; a bequest of the valuable
library of John M'Kenzie, an eminent lawyer of
the city, received in 1771 ; and the vested fund,
exclusive of the amount expended in books,
amounted in 1778 to £20,000. On the fifteenth
of January, of the same year, the collection was
destroyed by fire, only 185 out of from five to six
thousand volumes being preserved, with about
two thirds of the M'Kenzie collection. As its
other property was greatly depreciated during
the war, but little remained of the institution at
the peace. In 1792 a new collection was com-
menced, which in 1808 amounted to 4,500, and
in 1851 to 20,000 volumes. A building, origi-
nally the Bank of South Carolina, was purchased
for the use of the institution in 1840.

The New York Society Library was chartered
in 1754. The foundation of the collection may,
however, be dated back, in advance of all other
American institutions of a similar kind, to the
commencement of the century, the Rev. John
Sharp, chaplain to the governor of the province,
the Earl of Bellamont, having in 1700 given a
number of volumes for the use of the public,
which were deposited in a room provided for the
purpose. Those of the collection which remain
are preserved in the library, and consist of pon-
derous tomes of theology, bearing the autograph
of the original donor.

Nothing more is known of the history of the
collection until twenty-nine years later, when the
Rev. Dr. Millington, rector of Newington, Eng-
land, bequeathed his library to the Society for

the Propagation of the Gospel, by whom it was
presented to the New York library. The entire
collection remained without further additions of
importance in the hands of the corporation, who
do not appear to have been good curators of the
books intrusted to them.

The establishment of King's College, 1754,
seems to have led a number of eminent citizens
) to unite in an association to form a library " for
j the use and ornament of the city, and the advan-
tage of our intended college." Funds were col-
I lected, and a number of books purchased, which
; were placed in the same room witli those already
in the possession of the city. In 1772 a charter
! was obtained, and the institution assumed the
title it has since borne of " The New York Society
Library." In 1774 the records of the society
were broken off, and not resumed until fourteen
years after. During the occupation of the city
by the British the soldiery were in the habit, in
the words of a venerable citizen, who remem-
bered the circumstance, of "carrying off books
in their knapsacks, which they sold for grog."*
Little or nothing is said to have been left of the
collection at the peace but the folios, which either
proved too bulky for the knapsacks or too heavy
for the backs of the pilferers, or were perhaps too
dry for exchange for fluids on any terms what-
ever. In December, 1788, the shareholders at
last bestirred themselves, issued a call, came to-
gether, elected officers, and in the next year ob-
tained a renewal of their charter.

The room in the old city hall, on the site of
the present custom-house at the corner of Wall
and Nassau streets, being found too small for the
convenient accommodation of the collection, ad-
ditional subscribers were obtained, and a spacious
and elegant building erected for its exclusive ac-
commodation in Nassau street, opposite the Mid-
dle Dutch church, now the post-office, to which
it was removed in 1795.

In 1836 the rapid growth of the city, and the
entire abandonment of its lower portion to mer-
cantile purposes, rendered a removal of the li-
brary desirable. The building was sold, and a
new edifice erected at the corner of Broadway and
Leonard streets. In 1853 another removal was
deemed advisable. The building was sold to the
Messrs. Appleton, by whom the lower floor was
converted into the finest and largest retail book-
store in the United States, and probably in the
world, thus preserving in a measure the literary
associations of the locality. The library was re-
moved to apartments in "the Bible-House, which
it still occupies. Laud has been purchased at the
corner of Thirteenth street and University place
for a new edifice, which has not yet been com-
menced.

A catalogue of the library was printed before
the Revolution, but no copies have been pre-
served, nor is the extent of the collection at that
time known. A catalogue was printed in 1793,
when the library contained five thousand vo-
lumes. The collection increased to thirteen thou-
sand in 1813, to twenty-five thousand in 1838.
The last catalogue, published in 1S50, states the

* Report of Committee of the Senate, March 10, 1S55.

* Reminiscences of New York, by John Pintard, published
in the New York Mirror.

3S8

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

number of volumes at that time to be thirty-
five thousand. The number is now forty thou-
sand.

The original price of shares was fixed at five
pounds, the shares being perpetual, but subject
to an annual payment of ten shillings. The
present price is twenty-five, with an annual
payment of six dollars. The number of mem-
bers in 1793 was nine hundred, it is now one
thousand.

The proprietors elect annually fifteen of their
number as trustees, to whom the entire charge
of the affairs of the corporation is intrusted.

John Forbes filled the office of librarian from
1794 to 1824. He was succeeded by his son, the
present librarian, Philip J. Forbes, to whom the
institution is under obligations for his long ser-
vices as a faithful curator of its possessions, and a
judicious co-operator with the trustees for their
increase.

The collection includes valuable files of the
newspapers and periodical publications of the pre-
sent century, and good editions of classic writers
of every language. In 1812 the society received
a valuable donation from Francis B. Winthrop,
Esq., of a collection of early theological and sci-
entific works, mostly in the Latin language, col-
lected by his ancestor John "Winthrop, the first
governor of Connecticut.

THE UNIVERSITY OF PENNSYLVANIA.
Tins institution is an illustration of the growth
and development of liberal education in the city
of Philadelphia. It had its origin mainly in the
efforts of Franklin, by whose exertions the
Academy of Philadelphia was organized, and went
into operation in 1750. A public school had been
established in 1689 by the Society of Friends, at
which Latin and mathematics were taught, and of
which George Keith was the first teacher. In
1743 Franklin, sensitive to the wants of the
times, communicated the plan of an Academy, as
he states in his autobiography, to the Rev. Rich-
ard Peters, which he revived in 1749 in conjunc-
tion with Thomas Hopkinson and others, when
he issued his pamphlet entitled " Proposals rela-
tive to the Education of Youth in Pennsylvania,"
the publication of which he tells us, in his politic
way, he took care to represent, in his introduc-
tion, " not as an act of mine, but of some public-
spirited gentleman, avoiding as much as I could,
according to my usual rule, the presenting myself
to the public as the author of any scheme for
their benefit." A body of trustees was formed,
including the most influential men of the city,
among whom were Franklin himself, James Logan,
Thomas Hopkinson, Richard Peters, Jacob Duche,
Philip Syng, Charles "Willing, and others, " men
of character and standing and learning; orwhere,
as with the greatest of them, mere scholarship
was wanting, of masculine intelligence, and pure,
vigorous American mother wit;" while "the
master spirit then, as the master spirit in every
effort to do public good, from the hour when he
landed penniless at Market-street wharf, till the
distant day when, at the end of almost a century,
he was carried amidst mourning crowds and toll-
ing bells to his modest and almost forgotten grave,
was Benjamin Franklin. His mind conceived and

his energy achieved the first Philadelphia college."*
Franklin has himself told the story of his adroitness
in taking advantage of the arrival of Whitefield to
secure a permanent location for the school. A
building was erected to provide accommodation
for travelling preachers under similar circum-
stances with the great Methodist, and was placed
under the control of members of the several de-
nominations. One of them was a Moravian, who
had not given satisfaction to his colleagues ; and
on his death it was resolved to leave that sect out,
and as there was no religious variety to draw
from, Franklin secured his election on the ground
of being of no sect at all. Having thus attained
a position in both boards, he effected a junction
of the school and the meeting-house in the same
building, and to this day, in the present halt- of
the University, accommodation is afforded, if
called for by itinerant preaehers.t In 1751 the
academy opened in the new building with masters
in Latin, English, and mathematics. Charles
Thomson, the future Secretary of Congress, was
during four years a tutor in the school. In 1753
a charter was obtained for " the Trustees of the
Academy and Charitable School in the Province
of Pennsylvania." Logic, rhetoric, natural and
moral philosophy were added to the instructions,
and the Rev. William Smith, then full of youth-
ful ardor in the cause of education, was employed
to teach them. An additional charter in 1755
conferred the power of granting degrees, and in-
stituted a faculty with the title of "The Provost,
Yice-Provost, and Professors of the College and
Academy of Philadelphia, in the province of
Pennsylvania." By this act the Rev. William
Smith was appointed the first Provost, and the
Rev. Francis Alison Vice-Provost. Both, by
disposition, education, and experience, were well
fitted for the calling,

William Smith.

William Smith was born in Scotland, and was
a graduate of the University of Aberdeen in
1747. After his arrival in this country he was
for more than two years tutor in the family of

* Address before the Alumni of the University of Pennsyl-
vania, by William B. Heed, Nov. 10, 1849.

+ History of the Univ. Pa., by Geo. B. Wood, M.D. Me-
moirs Hist. Soc. Pa. iii. 179, a source from which our sketch
of the College is mostly derived.

UNIVERSITY OF PENNSYLVANIA.

389

Col. Martin of Long Island. During this time Up
revisited England and was ordained to the
ministry.

He early gave his attention to the subject of
education, for in 1753,* when King's College was
about being organized in New York, he drew up
and published an ingenious essay entitled A
General I lea of the College of Mirania, addressed
"to the Trustees by law appointed for receiving
proposals relating to the establishment of a Col-
lege in New York." He visited England, and
received his ordination there in 1753.

Before the College charter was obtained in
Philadelphia he was placed at the head of the
Academy, May 25, 1754, and was, as we have
seen, constituted the first Provost of the College.
In the published collection of his Discourses there
is a sermon from his pen preached in Christ
Church, Philadelphia, Sept. 1, 1754, on the death
of a pupil of the Senior Philosophy Class, Wil-
liam Thomas Martin, which is accompanied by
verses written by Francis Hopkinson, Samuel
Magaw, Jacob Duehe, and Paul Jackson who
became a classical tutor in the College, who were
among the first graduates in the year 1757.
Other discourses and addresses at various inter-
vals show Dr. Smith to have been a man of sci-
ence, of literature, of patriotism, and of Christian
devotion. O.ie of the earliest of his writings was
A Philosophical Meditation and Religious Ad-
dress to the Supreme Being, which was intended
for the use of young students in philosophy, and
published in London in 175-t, in a volume with a
treatise on Ethics by the Rev. Dr. Johnson, the
first President of King's College. From October,
1757, to October, 1758, he published a series of
eight essays in the American Magazine at Phila-
delphia, with the title of The Hermit. They
exhibit a warmth of feeling and a taste for letters
ready to ripen into the pursuits of the scholar
and divine. In 1758 he wrote an Earnest Address
to the Colonies stimulating the country for its
defence against the French. He preached also
several sermons on occasion of that war and on
the opening of the Revolution a military discourse,
June 23, 1775, in which he assisted the American
cause. He also delivered an oration in memory
of General Montgomery, at the request of Con-
gress, in 1776. This was an eloquent production,
as was also his Eulogiuin on Benjamin Franklin
pronounced before the American Philosophical
Society, March 1, 17111. t

The Rev. Francis Alison, who filled the office
of Vice-Provost the corresponding period with
the Provost-ship of Dr. Smith, was born in Ire-
land in 1705, was educated at the University of
Glasgow, and reaching America in 1735, was ap-
pointed to the charge of a Presbyterian Church

* This is the date also given to a Poem by the Rev. Mr.
Smith, 0:1 visiting the Academy of Philadelphia; printed in
folio, aud of nearly three huudred lines. It is mentioned by
Fisher in his account of the early poets of Pennsylvania, who
also speaks of the Provost's habit of " inciting and encouraging
every boyish attempt at rhyme in the College; so that every
coinmeucemont or exhibition, every occasion of general re-
joicing or grief, was an opportunity for the public pronuncia-
tion of dialogues, odes, or elegies, some of which possess great
beauty and animation, and are far above the ordinary capacity
of Collegians."

t These were published in the posthumous edition of his
Works in Philadelphia in two volumes in 1808. Thero were
two London editions of his Discourses in the author's life-
time, in 1759 aud 1702.

at New London, in Chester county, Pennsylvania.
There he opened a school, and had for Ids pupils
several youths who afterwards became distin-
guished. He was first Rector and then Master
of the Latin School at Philadelphia. He then
became first Vice-Provost of the College in 1755,
and held the office at his death in 1777. Besides
these engagements Dr. Alison was colleague in
the ministry of the First Presbyterian Church
with Dr. Ewing.

Provost Smith made two visits to England
while in charge of the college. On one of these,
in 175'..), undertaken we are told " to escape the
resentment of the Pennsylvania legislature,"*
with which he had become at odds by his sympa-
thies with the proprietors, he received the title of
Doctor of Divinity from the University of Oxford ;
and in 1762 he was united with James Jay of
Now York in solicitation for funds which were
divided between the colleges in New York and
Philadelphia; the latter receiving the sum of six
thousand pounds sterling. The College had been
sustained by numerous donations, legacies, and
gifts, which its benevolent feature of a charity
school facilitated.

The College rapidly grew into fame under
Smith's administration; the aggregate of stu-
dents was large, and the number from other pro-
vinces and the West Indies became so considera-
ble that a special building, in 1762, was erected
for their accommodation, the trustees readily rais-
ing the funds by a lottery.

From 1753 to 1773, in this ante-revolutionary
period, the studies in oratory and English litera-
ture were directed by the Rev. Ebenezer Kinners-
ley, who attained separate distinction by his share
in the electrical experiments of Franklin. He
exhibited the phenomena of electricity in public
lectures through the Colonies, and visited the
West Indies. His apparatus was bought by the
College after his decease. The Medical School
which has become of such high distinction, dates
from the appointment of Dr. Morgan in 1765
as professor of the theory and practice of physic.
Dr. William Shippen's chair of anatomy and sur-
gery was created the same year, and the appoint-
ments of Dr. Kuhn, Professor of Botany and
Materia Medica, and of Dr. Benjamin Rush of
Chemistry, followed. In 1767, the Medical
School, wbich has since attained such high dis-
tinction, was regularly organized, and the next
year degrees were conferred.

At a later period in Smith's career difficulties
grew up between the trustees and the legislature
representing the popular interest. The Provost
had been attached to the proprietors in the politi-
cal agitations of the times, and it was charged,
though apparently without reason, that it was
the design of the trustees, some of whom were
represented to be of monarchical inclination, to
defeat the original liberal object of the charter,
by making a Church of England institution of the
College. Tiiis prejudice or hostility took shape
in 1779 in an act of the Legislature which an-
nulled the charter of the College, took away the
funds, and created a new institution, with libe-

* Wood's History", p. 1S9. At one time ho was placed under
I arrest, and bis classes attended him at his place of confiuo-
meut.

390

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

The University of Pennsylvania.

ral grants out of the confiscated estates of
the royalists, entitled the University of Penn-
sylvania. The old offices were pronounced va-
cant in this act, and a new body of trustees
appointed. This act produced the usual excite-
ment of a proceeding necessarily of a violent
revolutionary character, and it was resisted by
Dr. Smith and his friends, who procured a law in
1789 reinstating the College trustees and faculty in
their ancient estates and privileges. The meet-
ings for the reorganization of the College were
held at the house of Dr. Franklin. Dr. Smith
became again Provost, and the medical faculty
was strengthened by the addition of Dr. Wistar
in Chemistry and the Institutes of Medicine, and
Barton in Botany and Natural History. In 1791
the old institution finally succumbed, and an act
of the Legislature was passed blending the two
bodies in the University of Pennsylvania.

Dr. Smith at this time permanently retired from
the institution, his age and the old difficulties pre-
venting his reappointment. He carried with him
the respect of the public and an acknowledgment
of his usefulness in an annuity of one hundred
pounds for life. He died in 1803, leaving a col-
lection of his writings ready for posthumous pub-
lication.

In the charter of the University in 1779
the Rev. Dr. John Ewing was created Pro-
vost. He was born the son of a farmer in East
Nottingham, Maryland, June 22, 1732, and re-
ceived his classical education at the school of
Francis Alison. He was a graduate of the Col-
lege at Princeton in 1752, where he was received
as a student of the senior class. He studied theo-
logy; and in 1758, when Dr. Smith left the Col-
lege of Philadelphia on his visit to Europe, took
his place as instructor of the philosophical classes.
In 1759 he was called to the ministry of the First
Presbyterian Church in Philadelphia, which he
filled during the remainder of his life. In 1773
he visited England to collect funds for the Aca-
demy at Newark, in Delaware, and while there
had the opportunity of the acquaintance of Dr.
Robertson, an interview with Dr. Johnson, in
which he overcame the disinclination of that
leviathan to a republican from America, and

meeting Lord North frankly acquainted him with
the probable and, as it turned out, prophetic, issue
of a contest between England and this country.
He received his degree of Doctor of Divinity
from the University of Edinburgh.

In 1777 Dr. Ewing removed from the scenes
of the Revolution in Philadelphia to Maryland,
and on his return became Provost of the Univer-
sity in 1779. He was eminent as a man of sci-
ence, and filled the chair of Vice-President of the
Philosophical Society. His College lectures on
Natural Philosophy were published in 1809.*

During a portion of his College course from 1779
to 1782 the office of Vice-Provost was held by-
David Rittenhouse. Ewing's accomplishments
are highly spoken of. He was eminent as a
mathematician and in the various branches of
Natural Philosophy, and profound in metaphysi-
cal and classical studies.

The incumbents of the office of Provost since
this period have been Dr. John McDowell, from
1806 to 1810; Dr. John Andrews, who had held
the Chair of Moral Philosophy since 1789, for
the next three }7ears ; Dr. Frederick Beasley from
1813 to 1828; the present Bishop William H.
Delancey from 1828 till 1834; when Dr. John
Ludlow succeeded, who was followed by Dr.
Henry Vetbake, the present incumbent. He was
first connected with the College as Vice-Provost,
and was formerly for a short period a lecturer in
Columbia College, New York. In 1838, he pub-
lished in Philadelphia his Principles of Political
Economy, and in 1847 edited the supplementary
fourteenth volume of the Encyclopaedia Ameri-
cana.

Dr. John McDowell, before his appointment to
the Provostship, occupied the position of Princi-
pal of St. John's College in Maryland.

Dr. John Andrews, born in Maryland in 1746,
was educated at the Academy at Philadelphia,
and was a graduate of the College in 1765 in the
same class with Bishop White. He was ordained
by the Bishop of London in 1767, and became a

* Art. by Robert Walsh, Am. Biog., Am. Quar. P.ev. No. 1.
History of First Presbyterian Church by the Eev. Albert
Barnes, Am. Quar. Eeg. xiii. 808.

JOEL BAKLOW.

391

Missionary of the Society for the propagation of
the gospel in foreign parts. He was afterwards
rector at Queen Ann's county, Maryland. His
political sentiments were with the loyalists, and
he removed from his parish to Yorktown, where
he kept a school. In 1785 he took charge of a
new Episcopal Academy in Philadelphia, and in
1791 was made Vice-Provost of the College. In
December, 1810, he succeeded Dr. McDow-
ell as Provost. He withdrew from the office in
1813 in ill health, and died in that year at the age
of sixty-seven.*

The Rev. Frederick Beasley, a presbyter of the
Protestant Episcopal Church, was Professor of
Moral Philosophy in the University from 1813 to
1828, and is favorably known for his metaphysi-
cal work in defence of the philosophy of Locke,
which he published in 1822, entitled "A Search
of Truth in the Science of the Human Mind."
He lived many years after his retirement, dying
at Elizabethtown, N. J., at the age of sixty-eight,
in 1845.

The present University Buildings in Ninth
street, originally erected for the accommodation
of Congress, were in 1800 purchased by the Uni-
versity.

The general course of instruction is embraced
in the Faculties of Arts and of Medicine, while
the original distinctive features of the College,'
the Academy or Grammar-school, and the Charity
schools, are severally maintained under the orga-
nization.

JOEL BAELOW.
Joel Baklow, whose career presents a greater
variety of circumstances than the history of any
of his fellow litterateurs in the early records of
America, was born the son of a respectable
farmer, and the youngest of a family of ten
children, at Reading, in Connecticut, in the year
1755. His father died while he was at school,
leaving the son means sufficient to acquire a col-
lege education. In 177-i, he was sent to Dart-
mouth, and thence removed to Yale, where he
found Dwight, who had been installed tutor three
years before, ami with whom he shared both his
patriotism and his poetry. During the vacations
of the college, Barlow was off handling a musket
with the militia in the opening scenes of the Revo-
lution, being present, it is said, and lighting brave-
ly, in the action at White Piains. His poetic first
appearance was made on Commencement day,
when he took his degree, in 1778, and delivered
a poem, The Prospect of Peace, which was pub-
lished the same year in New Haven, and which
reappeared, with another poem spoken at the
college three years afterwards on taking his degree
of Master of Arts, in the Litchfield collection of
" American Poems " by Elilm II. Smith, in 1793.
In 1780, he published an elegy on his friend, the
accomplished statesman of Connecticut, Titus
Hosmer.t In these early productions, we notice

* Wood's Historical Discourse. Sabine's Loyalists.

t Titus Hosmer, the friend of Barlow, was a lawyer and
patriot of great distinction in Connecticut, whose education
and manners procured him great respect and affection. David
D. Field, in his Middietown Historical Address, has given a
notice of his career: '-Noah Webster numbered him among
the three 'mighties:' and these three he designated as William
Samuel Johnson, LL.D., of Stratford, Oliver Ellsworth of

a certain breadth of philanthropy, and extension
of the local limits of American patriotism, which
the author, in after life, was destined to display
on an ampler field. It is curious to note at this
time, in advance of the dreams of the French
Revolution, the universal claims of humanity en-
gaging his attention. He was even then an enthu-
siastic visionary looking for an early Millennium.
Ho already saw the advancing conquests of
America —

What wide extent her waving ensigns elnim,
Lands yet unknown and streams without a name.

And celebrated the coming population of Europe.

On this broad theatre unbounded spread,
In different scenes, what countless throngs must

tread !
Soon as the new-form' d empire, rising fair,
Calms her brave sons now breathing from the war,
Unfolds her harbors, spreads the genial soil,
And welcomes freemen to the cheerful toil.

With war and discord around him, he sang the
universality of peace and union ; nations growing
fraternal under the general impulse —

Till each remotest realm, by friendship join'd,
Link in the chain and harmonize mankind,
The umou'd banner be at last unfurl'd,
And wave triumphant round the accordant world.

From college Barlow went to the study of law,
but the Massachusetts line wanting chaplains, he
turned to divinity, and putting himself through a
diligent six weeks course of theology, was duly
licensed a Congregational minister, and joined the
army as Dwight had done before him ; and like
Dwight, he cheered the spirits of the soldiery
with animating odes from the camp. He remain-
ed in the army during the war, meditating and
composing his Vision of Columbus, which was a
well written poem for the times; some of the
difficulties of which, to the scholar, may be esti-
mated from Barlow's statement that he had long
sought in vain in the country for a copy of Ca-
moens' Lusiad, and had not been able to obtain it
till his poem was ready for the press. The Vision
was published by subscription in 1787, and was
reprinted in London and in Paris. The dedication
to the first edition was to Louis XVI., in a strain
of superfluous eulogy and humility.*

Windsor, Chief Justice of the United States, and the Hon.
Titus Hosmer of Middietown." The general Congress had
just conferred the appointment of Judge of a Court of Appeals
upon Hosmer, when he died suddenly, August 4, 1780, at the
age of forty-four. Barlow, who was encouraged by Hosmer to
write his Vision of Columbus, speaks of his orphaned muse on
this event: —

At thy command she first assumed the lyTe,
And hop'd a future laurel from thy name.

How did thy smiles awake her infant song!

How did thy virtues animate the lay !
Still shall thy fate the dying strain prolong,

And bear her voice with thy lost form away.

* If all that he says of the Bourbons is true, the French
Revolution ought never to have occurred. ''The illustrious
lino of your royal ancestors have been conspicuous in seizing
those advantages (proceeding from the discovery of America)
and diffusing their happy effects. The great Father of the
House of Bourbon will be held in the highest veneration til!
his favorite political system shall be realized among the nations
of Europe and extended to all mankind. * * Your Majesty's
permission, that the unfortunate Columbus may once more
enjoy the protection of a royal benefactor, has added a new
obligation to those 1 before felt — in common with a grateful
country."

392

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

At the close of the struggle he left the church
and army together, and returned to the law,
settling at Hartford, and engaging in a weekly
newspaper, The American Mercury. He was
admitted to the bar in 1785, in which year he
was also employed by the " General Association "
of Connecticut, in the adaptation of Watts's
version of the Psalms,* the same task which was
subsequently performed by the more orthodox
hand of his friend Timothy Dwight. The work
was received with satisfaction, and used in the
churches by authority. Barlow's additions con-
sisted in versions of twelve of the Psalms which
Watts had omitted,t and several others were
altered by him.J One from his pen was much
admired ; this version of Psalm cxxxviii.: —

THE BABYLONIAN CAPTIVITY.

Along the banks where Babel's current flows
Our captive bands in deep despondence stray'd,

While Zion's fall in sad remembrance rose,

Her friends, her children mingled with the dead.

The tuneless harp that once with joy we strung,
When praise employ'd and mirth inspir'd the lay,

In mournful silence on the willows hung ;

And growing grief prolong'd the tedious day.

The barbarous tyrants, to increase the woe,
With taunting smiles a song of Zion claim;

Bid sacred praise in strains melodious flow,

While the3T blaspheme the great Jehovah's name.

But how, in heathen chains and lands unknown
Shall Israel's sons a song of Zion raise ?

* Doctor Watts's Imitation of the Psalms of David, corrected
and enlarged, l/y Joel Barlow, to xchich is added a Collection
of Hymns ; the whole applied to tlie state of the Christian
Church in General. Luke xxtv. — All things must be fulfilled
which were written in the . . . Psalins concerning us. Hart
ford. Printed by Barlow & Babcock, 17S5.

t They are tlie 2Sth. 43d, 520, 54th, 59th, 64th, TOtb, 79th,
SSth, lifitb, 137th, and 140th.

X A story is told of an effusion in verse on Barlow the versi-
fier of Watts, perpetrated by a local poet of reputation for a
knack at extempore rhyming. This personage was Oliver, a
cousin of Benedict Arnold, and is commemorated in a History
of Norwich, Connecticut, by Miss F. M. Caulkins (1845), where
the following is narrated : — " in a booksellers shop in New
Haven, he was introduced to Joel Barlow, who had just then
acquired considerable notoriety by the publication of an altered
edition of Watts a Psalms and Hymns. Barlow asked lor a
specimen of his talent; upon which the wandering poet im-
mediately repeated the following stanza: —

You've proved yourself a sinful cre'tur';
You've murdered Watts, and spoilt the metre ;
You've tried the Word ol God to alter,
And for your pains deserve a halter.

Oliver was also a sailor and a patriot, and cordially despised
the course taken by his cousin Benedict, in betraying his
country. Local tradition ascribes to him the following acrostic
on the traitors name, and it is even added that being on a visit
to his cousin after the war. and called upon by hitn to amuse a

E arty of English officers with some extemporaneous effusion,
e stood up and repeated this Ernulphus curse, which would
have satisfied Dr. Slop himself. The composition itself, how-
ever, contradicts such a report, as it bears no resemblance
to other short and unstudied efforts of the native rhymester,
which have been preserved.

Born for a curse to virtue and mankind.
Earth's broadest realm ne'er knew so black a mind.
Night's sable veil your crimes can never hide,
Each one so great, 'twould glut historic tide.
Defunct, your cursed memory will live,
Iu all the glare that infamy can give.
Curses of ages will attend your name,
Traitors alone will glory in your shame.

Almighty vengeance sternly waits to roll
Rivers of sulphur on your treacherous soul —
Nature looks shuddering back, with conscious dread.
On such a tarnished blot as she has made.
Let hell receive you, riveted in chains,
Doomed to the hottest focus of its flames.

0 hapless Salem, God's terrestrial throne.
Thou land of glorj-, sacred mount of Praise.

If e'er my memory lose thy lovely name,
If my cold heart neglect my kindred race,

Let dire destruction seize this guilty frame;
ily hand shall perish and my voice shall cease.

Yet shall the Lord, who hears when Zion calls,
O'ertake her foes with terrour and dismay,

His arm avenge her desolated walls,
And raise her children to eternal day.

To dispose of the literary wares which he had
now on hand, the Psalm Book and the Vision,
Barlow, who appears with no lack of personal
liberality to have been always of a mercantile,
speculating turn, opened a book-store at Hartford,
which he closed when he had accomplished his
purpose, and began the practice of the law. He
was at this time associated with Trumbull,
Humphreys, and Hopkins, in penning the patriotic
effusions of the Anarchiad. In 1787, he delivered
an oration on the 4th July at Hartford, in which
he urged the adoption of a general government.
The law does not appear to have suited his dis-
position and temperament ; he is described as too
stiff and unyielding for its requirements ; so that
when a Land Company was formed, called " The
Scioto Company," Barlow accepted a part in its
management, and was sent as agent to England
in 1788, to dispose of the property. The title to
the lands was stolen, and the company were
swindlers, but Barlow was unconscious of the
skilfully concealed deception. When he found it
out he resigned.

^y/l*> /'

^

<^>'

This foreign journey brought him in contact
with the Girondins in Paris, into whose political
prospects he warmly entered. His own personal
affairs were probably somewhat uncertain.
Trumbull, writing to Oliver Wolcott, Dec. 9,
1789, says of their friend: "I cannot conceive
what Barlow is doing. After being eighteen
months abroad, you tell me he has got so far as
to see favourable prospects. If he should not

JOEL BARLOW.

393

effect something soon, I would advise him to
write ' The Visions of Barlow,' as a sequel to
those of Columbus and McFingal."* On re-
visiting London from Paris, in 1791, Barlow pub-
lished, at the end of the year, the first part of his
Ado ice to the Privileged Orders, and in the Feb-
ruary following, a poem, The Conspiracy of Kings,
on the alliance against France. These are both
vigorous productions. In the first he considers
the state of Europe under the five heads of the
Feudal system, — the Church, the Military, the
Administration of Justice, and Revenue, and
Public Expenditure, supporting each topic with
great vehemence of statement.

The poem, with a stirring preface at the be-
ginning and uncompromising note at the end, was
mainly levelled at Mr. Burke, who is solemnly
arraigned as almost exclusively the author of the
war with all its train of calamities. This piec3
of prose is clear, vigorous, and sonorous, with
many of the most striking qualities of expression.
If Barlow hail given the same attention to com-
position in this department which he bestowed

' upon his verses, his reputation would have been
greater. He denounces the transfer of Burke
from the side of liberty to kingcraft in unmea-
sured terms. " Here," says he, " is a man who
calls himself a philosopher, not remarkable for his
avarice, the delight and ornament of a numerous
society of valuable friends, respected by all en-
lightened men as a friend of peace and preacher
of humanity, living in an age when military

■ madness has lost its charms, and men begin to
unite in searching the means of avoiding the hor-
rors of war; this man, wearied with the happi-
ness that surrounds him, and disgusted at the
glory that awaits him, renounces all his friends,
belies the doctrines of his former life, bewails that
the military savageness of the fourteenth century
ha* passed away, and, to gratify his barbarous
wishes to call it hack, conjures up a war, in which
at least two millions of his fellow-creatures must
be sacrificed to his unaccountable passion." His
verse is hardly equal to this in force, but the
reader may be interested in a portrait drawn
nearly twenty years after Goldsmith had pencil-
led his mild sketch of his friend who

To party gave up what was meant for mankind.

But Burke's prophecies were at least as philoso-
phical as Barlow's : both had their credulities, and
time, which amendeth all things, will correct
many errata in their writings. It was Barlow's
misfortune to be carried away by French theory*,
and set too little value on the sterling though
more slowly moving facts of England and
America. He confounded the abstract truths of
morality with their practical applications among
men as exhibited in society. Morals are one
thing, men quite another. When he says that
" Many truths are as perceptible when first pre-
sented to the mind, as an age or a world of expe-
rience could make them ; others require only an
indirect and collateral experience ; some demand
an experience direct and positive ;" and that " it
is happy for human nature, that in morals we
have much to do with this first class of truths,
less with the second, and very little with the

* Gibbs'a Oliver Wolcott, i. 25.

third ; while in physics we are perpetually driven
to the slow process of patient and positive
experience ;" — it may be all very true of moral
philosophy as a science, but the remark is value-
less as respects the conduct of men in political
government — which is of much slower growth,
and more painful development than even the
tedious facts of physics. A year or two later,
when Barlow was preparing for a History of the
French Revolution, which he never wrote, he
commends to Wolcott the example of that great
effort for American imitation. " I do not mean,"
says he, " that a revolution, or anything like it,
will be necessary with us, but that many prin-
ciples for the general diffusion of information, the
preservation and improvement of morals, and the
encouragement of such a degree of equality in
the condition of men as tends to their dignity and
happiness, will certainly be established by them,
and will he equally necessary for us." In French
politics Barlow was a visionary, but he shared
his enthusiasm with many sober-minded men.

In 1791, the French philosopher Volney's
Ruins or Reflections on the Revolutions of Em-
pires was published in Paris, and a translation
from Barlow's pen appeared the next year in
London.

Barlow's Letter to the National Convention of
France, offering some suggestions in constitution-
making, is dated London, Sept. 16 1792. He was
then associated with the reformers in England, a
member of the Constitutional Society, which
body delegated him to carry an address to the
Convention, which in turn conferred upon him
the honor of French citizenship. It is in these
relations that a story is told of a supper at which
Barlow was present. The famous song attribut-
ed to his pen, in eulogy of the Guillotine, which
was afterwards revived to his disadvantage on
his return to New England, when he fell among
the Federalists, was originally written, it is said,
for the amusement of some of his revolutionary
friends at Hamburgh, assembled after the execu-
tion of Louis XVI. It was a parody on the
English national anthem, " God save the king,"
and ran —

A BOXG.

tune — uGod save the Guillotine. "
Fame let thy trumpet sound,
Tell all the world around —

How Capet full :
And when great George's poll
Shall in the basket roll,
Let mercy then control

The Guillotine.

When all the sceptred crew
Have paid their homage to

The Guillotine ;
Let freedom's flag advance,
Till all the world, like France !
O'er tyrants' graves shall dance,

And peace begin.*

* Biographlo tTniverselle, Art, Barlow. Ilildrcth. Second Sc-
ries, ii. 551. The sons, with the comments to which Ilildreth
alludes, will be found in the Columlian CenUnd, Nov. 1G, 1SC5.

A somewhat similar effusion to this has been attributed to
Akenside, the poet, as an ode written for the Calf Head Club,
on theSoth January, the anniversary of the beheading of King
Charles I. Freneau prints it in his Jersey Chronicle, pajro
33S A calf's head, it is stated, was brought in with a crown
of pastry after dinner, with daggers or sharp-pointed knives

334:

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

In December, 1T92, he was with the Abbe j
Gregoire and a deputation sent to organize the
territory of Savoy, whence, from its capital, lie
dated A Letter Addressed to the People of Pied- ]
mont, on the advantages of the French Revolu-
tion, and the necessity of adopting its principles \
in Italy ; a revolutionary proceeding which he
varied by the composition of his pleasant Ameri-
can dietetic lay, The Hasty Pudding.

The original American edition of this poem was
printed at New Haven in 1796. An advertise-
ment dated April of that year sets forth its " re-
publican virtue recommended with republican
freedom and boldness," and the design expressed
in its preface for which " it ought to be owned
and studied by every family in New England."
The reprint which follows this article preserves
the original title and preface, with several pas-
sages omitted in later editions.*

By this time bis pecuniary prospects were im-
proving. His position and knowledge of affairs
gave him the advantage in the midst of the
changing fortunes of the Revolution. In 1795
he was employed as a private legal or commercial
agent to the north of Europe, and in the same
year was appointed consul at Algiers for the pur-
pose of negotiating a treaty with the Barbary
powers, which he effected with many brave and
successful exertions in behalf of the prisoners con-
fined there. On returning to Paris he made a
fortune in some commercial speculations, and
purchased the hotel of the Count Clermont de
Tonnerre, where he lived in sumptuous style.
During his French residence, the administration
of Adams brought Barlow out in opposition to
the government at home, in two Letters to the
People of the United Statcs.i His language in
that time of heated politicians was rash and
intemperate. One of Barlow's letters to his
brother-in-law Baldwin was obtained from him by
Matthew Lyon, the extravagant democratic mem-
ber of Congress from Vermont, who published it.
It contained violent denunciations of Adams and
Washington, and furnished one of the counts of
Lyon's arraignment under the sedition law, for
which he was thrown into prison.

In a memoir to the French Government at this
time, he denounced the system of privateering,

to each member. A couple of stanzas of the " ode :' "will ex-
plain their use.

On this renown'd illustrious day,
Let freedom's sons he grind and gay,

And bigot fools deride,
This day a faithless tyrant fell ;
Nor warm, nor brave, sunk he to hell.

But felon-like he died.

*****
We vow the tyrant justly fell

To ratify the deed;
Without all scruple, doubt or awe.
Our shining weapons forth we draw

And strike this mimic head.

* We are indebted for this copy as well as for the opportu-
nity of presenting a portrait not hitherto engraved, from an
original by Vanderlyn, to the Eev. Lemuel G. Olmstead of this
city, a gentleman connected by birth and marriage with the fa-
milies of three distinguished revolutionary worthies, Joel Bar-
low, Timothy Dwight, and Col. Humphreys. He is the grand-
nephew of Barlow on the mother's side. He has taken in
charge the collection of the writings of Barlow with a view to
the publication of a complete edition, which is much needed.

T Letters from Paris to the Citizens of the United States of
America on the System of Policy hitherto pursued by their
Government, relative to their Commercial Intercourse with
England and France. London, ISOtl. Svo.

with a view to its prevention in the new constitu-
tion. In 1805, having been absent from home
seventeen years, Barlow returned to the United
States. After a few months of travel, he turned
to Washington, and built a fine house for his resi-
dence in the district of Columbia, which he called
Kalorama. He projected a national academy to
be founded by government, but Congress did not
act upon his plan.

As an illustration of the feeling entertained for
Barlow at this time by the Federal party in New
England, we may give an account of a copy of
verses which he produced for a public dinner at
Washington, with the treatment they received in
Boston.

On the 14th of January, 1807, a dinner was
given at Washington by the citizens to Captain
Meriwether Lewis, in congratulation of his safe
return from the Rocky Mountains. Robert Brent
presided, and Captain Tingey and Colonel Whar-
ton were vice-presidents. " At an early period
of the entertainment," as the report of the Na-
tional Intelligencer* tells us, " the following ele-
gant and glowing Stanzas, from the pen of Mr.
Barlow, were recited by Mr. Beckley" : —

ON THE DISCOVERIES OF CAPTAIN LEWIS.

Let the Nile cloak his head in the clouds, and defy

The researches of science and time ;
Let the Niger escape the keen traveller's eye,

By plunging or changing his clime.

Columbus! not so shall thy boundless domain
Defraud thy brave sons of their right:

Streams, midlands, and shorelands elude us in vain,
We shall drag their dark regions to light.

Look down, sainted sage, from thy synod of Gods ;

See, inspired by thy venturous soul,
Mackenzie roll northward his earth-draining floods,

And surge the broad waves to the pole.

With the same soaring genius thy Lewis ascends,

And seizing the car of the sun,
O'er the sky-propping hills and high waters he bends

And gives the proud earth a new zone.

Potowmak, Ohio, Missouri had felt

Half her globe in their cincture comprest ;

His long curving course has completed the belt.
And tamed the last tide of the west.

Then hear the loud voice of the nation proclaim,

And all ages resound the decree :
Let our Occident stream bear the young hero's name

Who taught him his path to the sea.
*
These four brother floods, like a garland of flowers,

Shall entwine all our states in a band,
Conform and confederate their wide spreading
powers,

And their wealth and their wisdom expand.

From Darien to Davis one garden shall bloom.
Where war's wearied banners are furl'd,

And the far scenting breezes that waft its perfume.
Shall settle the storms of the world.

Then hear the loud voice of the nation proclaim

And all ages resound the decree :
Let our Occident stream bear the young hero's
name.

Who taught him his path to the sea.

* Jan. 16, 180T.

JOEL BARLOW.

395

In the Monthly Anthology for March, 1807,
appeared the following parody of this affair,
complimentary neither to Barlow nor to Jefferson,
which is known to be from the pen of John
Quiiicy Adams : —

ON THE DISCOVERIES OF CAPTAIN LEWIS.

Good people listen to my tale,

'Tis nothing but what true is ;
I'll tell you of the mighty deeds

Achieved by Captain Lewis —
How starting from the Atlantiek shore

By fair and easy motion,
He journied, all the way by land,

Until he met the ocean.

Hekoick, sure, the toil must be

To travel through the woods, sir;
And never meet a foe, yet save

His person and his goods, sir !
What marvels on the way he found

He'll tell you, if inelin'd, sir —
But /shall only now discdose

The things he did not find, sir.

He never with a Mammoth met,

However you may wonder;
Nor even with a Mammoth's bone,

Above the ground or under —
And, spite of all the pains he took

The animal to track, sir,
He never could o'ertake the hog

With navel on his, back, sir.

And from the day his course began,

Till even it was ended,
He never found an Indian tribe

From Welchmen straight descended :
Nor, much as of Philosophers

The fancies it might tickle ;
To season his adventures, met

A mountain, sous'd in pickle.

He never left this nether world —

For still he had his reason—
Nor once the waggon of the sun

Attempted he to seize on.
To bind a Zone about the earth

He knew he was not able —
Tuey say he did — but, nsk himself,

He'll tell you 'tis a fable.

He never dreamt of taming tides,

Like monkeys or like bears, sir —
A school, for teaching floods to flow,

"YVsis not among his cares, sir —
Had rivers ask'd of him their path,

They had but mov'd his laughter —
They knew their courses, all, as well

Before he came, as after.

And must we then resign the hope

These elements of changing ?
And must we still, alas! be told

That after all his ranging,
The Captain could discover nought

But water in the Fountains?
Must Forests still be form'd of Trees?

Of rugged Rocks the Mountains f

We never will be so fubb'd off,

As sure as I'm a sinner!
Come — let us all subscribe, and ask

The hero to a dinner —
And Barlow stanzas shall indite —

A bard, the tide who tames, sir —
And if we cannot alter things,

By G — , we'll change their names, sir!

Let old Columbus be once more

Degraded from his glory ;
And not a river by his name

Remember him in story —
For what is old Discovery

Compar'd to that which new is?
Strike — strike Columbia river out,

And put in — river Lewis 1

Let dusky Sally henceforth bear

The name of Isabella ;
And let the mountain, all of salt,

Be christen'd Monticella —
The hog with navel on his back

Tom Pain may be when drunk, sir —
And Joel call the Prairie-dog,

Which once was call'd a Skunk, sir.

And when the wilderness shall yield

To bumpers bravely brimming,
A nobler victory than men ; —

While all our heads are swimming,
We'll dash the bottle on the wall

And name (the thing's agreed on)
Our first-rate-ship United States,

The flying frigate tredon.

True — Tom and Joel now, no more

Can overturn a nation :
And work, by butchery and blood,

A great regeneration ; —
Yet, still we can turn inside out

Old Nature's Constitution,
And bring a Babel back of nanus —

Huzza ! for revolution !

In 1807 the magnum opus of Barlow, the
Columbiad, appeared, dedicated to the author's
intimate friend Robert Fulton; the most costly
work which had been published in America. It
was issued in Philadelphia. It has eleven en-
gravings after original designs by Smirke, executed
by the best line engravers in London, Colliding,
Parker, Anker Smith, Raimbach, and others.
Of these, Hester Appearing to Columbus in Prison.
The Murder of Lucinda, Cruelty Presiding over
the Prison Ship, and The Initiation to the Mys-
teries of Isis, may be instanced for the force of
the conception and beauty of handling. The por-
trait of Barlow prefixed was painted by Fulton,
and is admirably engraved. From the dedication
we learn that Fulton " designated the subjects to
be painted for engravings," and, intent upon the
"expensive and splendid decorations" of the
work, ordered them to be executed in Barlow's
absence, and at his own expense.

The plan of the ten books of the Colunibiad is
simple enough. Columbus is introduced to us in
prison, suffering the ingratitude of his country, in
Spain, when Hesper appears to him and conducts
him to a mount of vision commanding the western
continent. The geography of the vast region is
described, and Hesper relates at length the story
of Mexico and Pern. The colonization of North
America by Raleigh and others is passed in review,
when we enter upon the old French war and the
scenes of the Revolution which form the central
portion of the work. The companions of Wash-
ington in the struggle have poetical justice done
them : —

Here stood stern Putnam, scored with ancient seal1!:,
The living records of his country's wars ;
Wayne, like a moving tower, assumes his post,
Fires the whole field, and is himself a host;

396

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Undaunted Stirling, prompt to meet his foes,
And Gates and Sullivan for action rose ;
Macdougal, Clinton, guardians of the state,
Stretch the nerved aim to pierce the dejjth of fate.

******
Bland, Moyland, Sheldon, the long lines enforce
With light-arm'd scouts, with solid squares of horse ;
And Knox from his full park to battle brings
His brazen tubes, the last resort of kings.
The long black rows in sullen silence wait,
Their grim jaws gaping, soon to utter fate ;
When at his word the carbon cloud shall rise.
And well-aim'd thunders rock the shores and skies.

Among the special descriptions of this portion
of the poem are the indignant lines on the cruel-
ties of the British in the prison-ships, and the
employment of the Indians, introducing the story
of Miss M'Crea. The battles having been all dis-
posed of, including the victories of Saratoga and
Yorktown, and a naval action between Degrasse
and Graves, with the poetical license of a few
additional commanders who were not present,
and several valorous incidents which never oc-
curred on those occasions, the Columbiad passes
from the conquests of war to those of peace. The
progress and influences of modern art and science
are pointed out, the advantages of the federal go-
vernment, and of a larger confederation of nations,
with an assimilation and unity of language ; an
abandonment of war, and a final blaze of rockets
over the emancipation of the world from prejudice
and a general millennium of philosophic joy and
freedom.

South of the sacred mansion, first resort
The assembled sires, and pass the spacious court.
Here in his porch earth's figured genius stands,
Truth's mighty mirror poising in his hands ;
Graved on the pedestal and chased in gold,
Man's noblest arts their symbol forms unfold,
His tillage and his trade; with all the store
Of wondrous fabrics and of useful lore :
Labours that fashion to his sovereign sway
Earth's total powers, her soil, and air, and sea;
Force them to yield their fruits at his known call,
And bear his mandates round the rolling ball.
Beneath the footstool all destructive things,
The mask of priesthood and the mace of kings,
Lie trampled in the dust ; for here at last
Fraud, folly, error, all their emblems cast.
Each envoy here unloads his wearied hand
Of some old idol from his native land ;
One flings a pagod on the mingled heap,
One lays a crescent, one a cross to sleep ;
Swords, sceptres, mitres, crowns and globes and

stars,
Codes of false fame and stimulants to wars,
Sink in the settling mass; Eince guile began,
These are the agents of the woes of man.
Now the full concourse, where the arches bend,
Pour thro' by thousands and their scats ascend.
Far as the centred eye can range around,
Or the deep trumpet's solemn voice resound,
Long rows of reverend sires sublime extend,
And cares of worlds on every brow suspend.
High in the front, for soundest wisdom known,
A sire elect in peerless grandeur shone;
He open'd calm the universal cause,
To give each realm its limit and its laws,
Bid the last breath of tired contention cease,
And bind all regions in the leagues of peace;
Till one confederate, condependent sway
Spread with the sun and boand the walks of day,

One centred system, one all-ruling soul,
Live thro' the parts and regulate the whole.

This is the outline of the Columbiad. In its
composition it is an enlargement of the Vision of
Columbus, which his simple-minded countrymen,
perplexed by the new notions of the author, liked
the better of the two.

Barlow's alterations and amendments of his
early poem, like most changes of the kind where
poems have been rewritten, might as well have
been left unattempted. " God mend me," said
Pope, in his favorite form of exclamation, to the
link-boy; "Mend you, indeed," replied the boy
to the shambling little bard, "it would be far
easier to make a new one." There is occasionally
an improvement, however, in particularity of de-
tail, the prevailing fault of both poems being a
vague generality of expression. A comparison
of one or two passages will throw some light on
the peculiar powers of Barlow, and the verse-
generating habit of the age, when Pope was still
worshipped and Darwin was the newly-arrived
celebrity of the day.

Barlow, in the interval between the publication
of the two poems, had become a neologist in
words. It is in his later poem that we find the
ill-digested scientific phrases thrown out, which
he had swallowed at the banquet of the philoso-
phers. The sky " lamp'd with reverberant fires,"
" this bivaulted sphere," nature which " impalms
all space," "the impermeated mass" of chaos,
"crude and crass," globes whirling forth "in
cosmogyral course," and hundreds of other simi-
lar crudities, were inventions of Barlow's later
day. In the midst of these scientific imperti-
nences, however, he has introduced one of his
purest passages on the birth of creation, when —

light at last begun,
And every system found a centred sun,
Call'd to his neighbor, and exchanged from far
His infant gleams with every social star;
Rays thwarting raj's and skies o'erarching skies,
Robed their dim planets with commingling dyes,
Hung o'er each heaven their living lamps serene,
And tinged with blue the frore expanse between:
Then joyous Nature hail'd the golden morn,
Drank the young beam, beheld her empire born.

In his allusion to the pyramids, he gives in a
word a new sense of their enormous mass,
threatening to disturb the orbit of gravitation : —

Press the poized earth with their enormous weights.

In the review of intellectual progress, in the
ninth book of the Columbiad — ■

There, like her lark, gay Chaucer leads the lay,
The matin carol of his country's day :

is an improvement on

Where, like the star that leads the orient day,
Chaucer directs his tuneful sons their way.

The introduction of Franklin in the first sketch
is more poetical than in the second. In the
Vision : —

See on yon darkening height bold Franklin stand

in the Columbiad, this truthful glimpse of nature
is spoilt by the poetical finery of —

JOEL BARLOW.

397

Yon meteor-mantled hill see Franklin tread.

Another line is, however, an improvement, the
charge from —

His daring toils, the threatening Mast that wait,

To—

His well-tried wires, that every tempest wait.

In which we get nearer to the fact ; and fact and
reality are not such enemies to poetry as is some-
times apprehended.

On other pages he omits his warmer religious
views of 1787, the date of his first version. The
picture of the divinely-nurtured life of the preach-
er and the earnest indication of the atonement of
the seventh and eighth hooks of the Vision are
entirely omitted in the Columbiad ; while we have
a vast deal of science in their stead.

In this poem there is a vivid anticipation of the
material progress of the world in opening lines of
communication by canals, which appears again
with some modifications in the Columbiad. As
it gives Barlow's poetry the high merit, in addi-
tion to whatever other qualities it may possess, of
the prophetic instinct, we quote the passage from
the earliest copy in The Vision, printed in 1787,
when "internal improvements," not as yet de-
veloped by Fulton and Clinton, rested wholly in
such chimerical suppositions. As we write, the
newspapers of the day (March, 1854) are occu-
pied with an additional fulfilment of the "prophecy,
in the division, if we may be allowed to receive
the Panama railroad as a substitute for Barlow's
canal, of the "ridgy Darien hills" opening the
commerce of Peru.

He saw, as widely spreads the unehannel'd plain,
"Where inland realms for ages bloom'd in vain,
Canals, long-winding, ope a watery flight,
And distant streams and seas and lakes unite.
Where Darien hills o'erlook the gulphy tide,
By human art, the ridgy banks divide;
Ascending sails the opening pass pursue,
And waft tiie sparkling treasures of Peru.
Jeneiro's stream from Plata winds his way,
And bold Madera opes from Paraguay.
From fair Albania, tow'rd the failing sun,
Back thro' the midland, lengthening channels run,
Meet the far lakes, their beauteous towns that lave,
And Hudson join to broad Ohio's wave.*
From dim Superior, whose unfathom'd sea
Drinks the mild splendors of the setting da}T,
New paths, unfolding, lead their watery pride,
And towns and empires rise along their side;
To Mississippi's source the passes bend,
And to the broad Pacific main extend.
From the red banks of blest Arabia's tide,
Thro' the dread isthmus, waves unwonted glide;
From Europe's crowded coasts while bounding sails
Look through the pass and call the Asian gales.
Volga and Oby distant oceans join,
And the long Danube meets the rolling Rhine;
While other streams that cleave the midland plain,
Spread their new courses to the distant main.

The notes to the Columhiad and the preliminary
account of Columbus are well written. The an-

* la the Columbiad (1S07) these last four lines read —
From Mohawk's mouth, far westing with the sun,
Thro all the midlands recent channels run,
Tap the redundant lakes, the broad hilts brave,
And Hudson marry with Missouri's wave.

ticipation of the decline of public war, from the
decline of private, is felicitous. Alluding to the
legend on the cannon of Louis XIV., ultima-ratio
regum, he says, "There certainly was a time
when the same device might have been written
on the hatchet or club or fist of every man ; and
the best weapon of destruction that he could
wield against his neighbor might have been called
ultima ratio virorum, meaning that human roa-.
son could go no farther." His remarks on the
philosophy of history show what would have been
the spirit of his contemplated History of the Ameri-
can Revolution, in which he would doubtless have
anticipated something of the treatment of Bancroft.
He carries his single idea of the evils of war to a
ridiculous excess, forgetting for the moment the
uses of poetry and the imagination, when he falls
foul of Homer for his pictures of battles and
kings, and pronounces the opinion that the
existence of that famous old bard "has really
proved one of the signal misfortunes of man-
kind."*

The Col tin/bind was reprinted in 1809, in two
duodecimo volumes; it was republished inEngland
and also in Paris. In this year Barlow delivered
a Fourth of July Oration at the request of the
Democratic citizens of the District of Columbia,
in which he urged a general system of public im-
provement and public instruction to be sustained
by appropriations from government. He next
turned his attention to the composition of a his-
tory of the United States, a task which was in-
terrupted by his appointment from Monroe of
Minister to France, succeeding Armstrong. His
new French labors were applied to the difficult
negotiations with the government, growing out of
the policy of France in the Berlin and Milan de-
crees. In October, 1812, when Bonaparte was
on his Russian campaign, Barlow received an in-
vitation to wait upon him at Wilna. He set off
post-haste ; the severity of the weather anil fa-
tigues of the journey, with the changes of tem-
perature from the small Jewish taverns in Poland
to the atmosphere without, induced an inflamma-
tion of the lungs, to which he rapidly succumbed,
dying on his return to Paris, December 22, 1812,
at Zarnawicka, an unimportant village near Cra-
cow.

His last poem was a withering expression of
his sentiment towards Napoleon. It was dictated
by Barlow, in December, 1812, while lying on his
bed, to his secretary, Thomas Barlow, about mid-
night, only a night or two before the van of the
French army, which had been defeated by the
burningof Moscow, entered Wilna on their retreat,
the same month in which he died. It was copied
in diplomatic characters and sent to Mrs. Barlow
in Paris, but it never reached her. The original
poem written at Wilna is now in the possession
of the Rev. Lemuel (1. Olmstead, who has placed
a copy at our disposal. The paper has, in water-
mark, a head of Napoleon, and the words, " Na-
2>oleon Empereur des Francais et Eoi Ifltalie.1'

ADVICE TO A RAVEN IN RUSSIA.

Black fool, why winter here? These frozen skies.
Worn by your wings and deafened by your cries.

* Preface to the Columbiad.

398

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Should wavn you lience, where milder suns invite,

And Day alternates with his mother Night.

You fear, perhaps, your food will fail you there —

Your human carnage, that delicious fare,

That lured you hither, following still your friend,

The great Napoleon, to the world's bleak end.

You fear because the southern climes pour'd forth

Their clustering nations to infest the north —

Bavarians, Austrians — those who drink the Po,

And those who skirt the Tuscan seas below,

With all Germania, Neustria, Belgia, Gaul,

Doom'd here to wade through slaughter to their fall.

You fear he left behind no wars to feed

His feather'd cannibals and nurse the breed.

Fear not, my screamer, call your greedy train,

Sweep over Europe, hurry back to Spain —

You'll find his legions there, the valiant crew,

Please best their masters when they toil for you.

Abundant there they spread the country o'er,

And taint the breeze with every nation's gore —

Iberian, Russian, British, widely strown,

But still more wide and copious flows their own.

Go where you will, Calabria, Malta, Greece,

Egypt and Syria still Ins fame increase.

Domingo's fattened isle and India's plaina

Glow deep with purple drawn from Gallic veins.

No raven's wing can stretch the flight so far

As the torn bandrols of Napoleon's war.

Choose then your climate, fix your best abode —

He'll make you deserts and he'll bring you blood.

How could you fear a dearth? Have not mankind,

Though slain by millions, millions left behind?

Has not conscription still the power to wield

Her annual falchion o'er the human field?

A faithful harvester! or if a man

Escape that gleaner, shall he 'scape the ban,

The triple ban, that, like the hound of hell,

Gripes with three joles to hold his victims well!

Fear nothing, then! hatch fast your ravenous brood,

Teach them to cry to Buonaparte for food.

They'll he, like you, of all his suppliant train,

The only class that never cries in vain !

For see what natural benefits you lend —

The surest way to fix the mutual friend —

While on his slaughtered troops your tribes are fed,

You cleanse his camp and carry off his dead,

Imperial scavenger, but now, you know,

Your work is vain amid these hills of snow.

His tentless troops are marbled through with frost,

And changed to crystal when the breath is lost.

Mere trunks of ice, though limn'd like human

frames,
And lately warmed with life's endearing flames,
They cannot taint the air, the world infest,
Nor can you tear oue fibre from their breast.
No! from their visual sockets as they lie,
With beak and claws you cannot pluck an eye — ■
The frozen orb, preserving still its form,
Defies your talons as it braves the storm,
But stands and stares to God as if to know,
In what curst hands he leaves his world below !
Fly then, or starve, though all the dreadful road
From Minsk to Moscow with their bodies strow'd
May count some myriads, yet they can't suffice
To feed you more beneath these dreadful skies.
Go back and winter in the wilds of Spain ;
Feast there awhile, and in the next campaign
Rejoin your master, for you'll find him then,
With his new millions of the race of men,
Clothed in his thunders, all his flags unfurl'd,
Raging and storming o'er a prostrate world !
War after war his hungry soul requires ;
State after state shall sink beneath his fires.
Yet other Spains in victim smoke shall rise.
And other Moscows Buffocate the skies.

Each land lie reeking with its people slain,
And not a stream run bloodless to the main,
Till men resume their souls, and dare to shed
Earth's total vengeance on the monster's head!

Barlow in early life married Ruth, sister of
the celebrated politician, Abraham Baldwin, a
Connecticut man who settled in Georgia, and who
received in his post in Congress Barlow's politi-
cal letters from Europe. In the dedication of the
Columbiad to Fulton, Barlow speaks of the poem
being much benefited by "the observations of
my excellent wife." . This lady survived him
nearly six years, dying at his seat of Kalorama,
May 30, 1818, at the age of sixty-two.

HTMN TO PEACE.

Hail, sacred Peace, who claim'st thy bright abode
'Mid circling saints that grace the throne of God,
Before his arm, around this shapeless earth,
Stretch'd the wide heav'ns and gave to nature birth;
Ere morning stars his glowing chambers hung,
Or songs of gladness woke an angel's tongue ;
Veiled in the brightness of th' Almighty's mind,
In blest repose thy placid form reclined ;
Borne through the heaven, with his creating voice,
Thy presence bade the unfolding worlds rejoice;
Gave to seraphic hearts their sounding lays,
Their joy to angels and to men their praise.

From scenes of blood, these beauteous shores that
stain,.
From gasping friends that press the sanguine plain.
From fields, long taught in vain thy flight to mour. ,
I rise, delightful power, and greet thy glad return.
Too long the groans of death and battle's bray
Have rung discordant through the unpleasing lay ;
Let pity's tear its balmy fragrance shed,
O'er heroes' wounds and patriot warriors dead:
Accept, departed shades, these grateful sighs,
Your fond attendants to the approving skies.
But now the untuneful trump shall grate no more.
Ye silver streams, no longer swell with gore ;
Bear from your beauteous banks the crimson stain.
With yon retiring navies to the main ;
While other views unfolding on my eyes,
And happier themes bid bolder numbers rise.
Bring, bounteous Peace, in thy celestial throng,
Life to my soul; and rapture to my song;
Give me to trace, with pure unclouded ray,
The arts and virtues that attend thy sway ;
To see thy blissful charms that here descend,
Thro' distant realms and endless years extend.

THE CONSPIRACY OF KINGS.

Eternal Truth, thy trump undaunted lend,
People, and priests, and courts, and kings, attend ;
While, borne on western gales from that far shore
Where Justice reigns, and tyrants tread no more,
Th' untainted voice that no dissuasion awes,
That fears no frown, and seeks no blind applause,
Shall tell the bliss that Freedom sheds abroad,
The rights of Nature, and the gift, of God.

Think not, ye knaves, whom meanness styles the
great,
Drones of the church and harpies of the state, —
Ye, whose curst sires, for blood and plunder fani'd,
Sultans, or kings, or czars, or enip'rors nam'd,
Taught the deluded world their claims to own,
And raise the crested reptiles to a throne, —
Ye, who pretend to your dark host was given
The lamp of life, the mystic keys of heaven ;
Whose impious arts with magic spells began,
When shades of igu'rauce veil'd the race of man ;

JOEL BARLOW.

390

Who change, from age to age, the sly deceit,
As science beams, and virtue learns the cheat;
Tyrants of double powers, the souls that blind,
To rob, to scourge, and brutalize mankind, — -
Think not 1 come to croak "with omen'd yell
The dire damnations of your future hell,
To bend a bigot or reform a knave,
By op'niug all the scenes beyond the grave.
I know your crusted souls : while one defies,
In sceptic scorn, the vengeance of the skies,
The other boasts, — I ken thee, power divine,
But fear thee not; th' avenging bolt is mine.

No! 'tis the present world that prompts the song,
The world we see, the world that feels the wrong,
The world of men, whose arguments ye know,
Of men, long curb'd to servitude and woe,
Men, rous'd from sloth, by indignation string,
Their strong hands loos'd, and found their fearless

tongue;
Whose voice of thunder, whose descending steel,
Shall speak to souls, and teacli dull nerves to feel.

Think not, (ah no, the weak delusion shun,
Burke leads you wrong, the world is not his own),
Indulge not once the thought, the vap'ry dream,
The fool's repast, the mad-man's thread-bare theme,
That nations, rising in the light of truth,
Strong with new life and pure regenerate youth,
Will shrink from toils so splendidly begun,
Theii bliss abandon and their glory shun,
Betray the trust by Heav'n's own hand consign'd,
The great concentred stake, the interest of mankind.
Ye speak of kings combin'd, some league that
draws
Europe's whole force, to save your sinking cause ;
Of fancy'd hosts by myriads that advance
To crush the untry'd power of new-born France.
Misguided men! these idle tales despise;
Let one bright ray of reason strike your eyes ;
Show me your kings, the sceptred horde parade, —
See their pomp vanish ! see your Visions fade !
Indignant man resumes the shaft he gave,
Disarms the tyrant and unbinds the slave,
Displays the unclad skeletons of kings.*
Spectres of power, and serpents without stings.
And shall mankind,— shall France, whose giant

might
Rent the dark veil, and dragg'd them forth to light,
Heed now their threats in dying anguish tost?
And she who fcll'd the monster, fear the ghost?
Bid young Alcides, in his grasp who takes,
And gripes with naked hand the twisting snakes,
Their force exhausted, bid him prostrate fall,
And dread their shadows trembling on the wall.

But grant to kings and courts their ancient play,
Recal their splendour and revive their sway ;
Can all your cant and all your cries persuade
One power to join you in your wild crusade '(
In vain ye search to earth's remotest end ;
No court can aid you, and no king defend.

Not the mad knave who Sweden's sceptre stole,
Nor she whose thunder shakes the northern pole ;
Nor Frederic's widow' 4 sword, that scorns to tell
On whose weak brow his crown reluctant fell.
Not the tri-seeptred prince, of Austrian mould,
The ape of wisdom and the slave of gold,
Theresa's son, who, with a feeble grace,
Just mimics all the vices of his race ;
For him no charm can foreign strife afford,
Too mean to spend his wealth, too wise to trust his
sword.
Glance o'er the Pyrenees, — but you'll disdain
To break the dream that soothes the monk of Spain.

» Ossa tides regwm vacuu exTiausla medullie.

Juvlnal, Sat. 8.

He counts his beads, and spends his holy zen!

To raise once more th' inquisitorial wheel,

Prepares the faggot' and the flame renews,

To roast the French, as ouee the Moors and Jews :

While abler hands the busy task divide.

His queen to dandle and his state to guide.

Yet ask great Pitt to join your desp'rate work, —
See how his annual aid confounds the Turk !
Like a war-elephant his bulk he shows,
And treads down friends, when frighten'd by his

foes.
Where then, forsaken villains, will ye turn ?
Of France the outcast and of earth the scorn ;
What new-made charm can dissipate your fears?
Can Burke's mad foam, or Calonnc's house of peers?
Can Artois' sword, that erst near Calpe's wall,
Where Crillon fought and Elliott was to fall,
Buru'd with the fire of fame, but harmless burn'd,
For sheath'd the sword remain'd, and in its sheath

return'd !
Oh Burke, degenerate slave ! with grief and

shame
The Muse indignant mu6t repeat thy name.
Strange man, declare, — since, at creation's birth,
From crumbling chaos sprang this hcav'n and earth,
Since wrecks and outcast relics still remain,
Whirl'd ceaseless round confusion's dreary reign,
Declare, from all these fragments, whence you stole
That genius wild, that monstrous mass of soul;
Where spreads the widest waste of all extremes,
Full darkness frowns, and heav'n's own splendour

beams ;
Truth, error, falsehood, rhetoric's raging tide,
And pomp and meanness, prejudice and pride,
Strain to an endless clang thy voice of fire,
Thy thoughts bewilder and thy audience tire.

Like Phosbus' son, we see thee wing thy way,
Snatch the loose reins, and mount the car of day,
To earth now plunging plough thy wasting course,
The great sublime of weakness and of force.
But while the world's keen eye, with generous

glance,
T!>3' faults could pardon and thy worth enhance.
When foes were hush'd, when justice dar'd com-
mend,
And e'en fond freedom claim'd thee as a friend,
Why, in a gulpli of baseness, sink forlorn,
And change pure praise for infamy and scorn?
And didst thou hope, by thy infuriate quill ■
To rouse mankind the blood of realms to spill?
Then to restore, on death-devoted plains,
Their scourge to tyrants, and to man his chains?
To swell their souls with thy own bigot rage,
And blot the glories of so bright an age ?
First stretch thy arm, and, with less impious might,
Wipe out the stars, and quench the solar light :
" For hcaun and earth" the voice of God ordains,
" Shalt pans and perish, but my word remains"
Th' eternal word, which gave, in spite of thee,
Reason to man, that bids the man be free.

Thou could'st not hope: 'twas heav'n's returning

grace,
In kind compassion to our injur'd race,
Which stripp'd that soul, ere it should flee from

hence,
Of the last garb of decency or sense.
Left thee its own foul horrors to display,
In all the blackness of its native day,
To sink at last, from earth's glad surface hurl'd,
The sordid sov'reign of the letter'd world.

In some sad hour, ere death's dim terrors spread,
Ere seas of dark oblivion whelm thy head,
Reflect, lost man, — If those, thy kindred knaves,
O'er the broad Rhine whose fiag rebellious waves,
Once draw the sword ; its burning point shall bring

400

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAS" LITER ATU HE.

To thy quick nerves a never-ending sting ;

The blood they shed thy weight of woe shall swell,

And their grim ghosts for ever with thee dwell.

Learn hence, ye tyrants, ere ye learn too late,
Of all your craft th' inevitable fate.
The hour is come, the world's inelosrag eyes
Discern with rapture where its wisdom lies ;
From western heav'ns th' inverted orient springs,
The morn of man, the dreadful night of kings.
Dim, like the day-struck owl, ye grope in light,
No arm for combat, no resource in flight ;
If on your guards your lingering hopes repose,
Your guards are men, aud men you've made your

foe:. ;
If to your rocky ramparts ye repair,
De Launay's fate can tell your fortune there.
No turn, no shift, no courtly arts avail,
Each mask is broken, all illusions fail ;
Driv'n to your last retreat of shame and fear,
One counsel waits you, one relief is near:
By woi"th internal, rise to self-wrought fame,
Your equal rank, your human kindred claim ;
'Tis reason's choice, 'tis wisdom's final plan,
To drop the monarch and assume the man.

Hail man, exalted title ! first and best,
On God's own image by his hand imprest,
To which at last the reas'ning race is driven,
And seeks anew what first it gain'd from heaven.
0 max, my brother, how the cordial flame
Of all endearments kindles at the name !
In every clime, thy visage greets my eyes,
In every tongue thy kindred accents rise ;
The thought expanding swells my heart with glee,
It finds a friend, and loves itself in thee.

Say then, fraternal family divine,
Whom mutual wants and mutual aids combine,
Say from what source the dire delusion rose,
That souls like ours were ever made for foes ;
Why earth's maternal bosom, where we tread,
To rear our mansions and receive our bread,
Should blush so often for the race she bore,
So long be drench'd with floods of filial gore ;
Why to small realms for ever rest confiu'd
Our great affections, meant for all mankind.
Though climes divide us ; shall the stream or sea,
That forms a barrier 'twixt my friend and me,
Inspire the wish his peaceful state to mar,
And meet his falchion in the ranks of war ?

Not seas, nor climes, nor wild ambition's fire
In nation's minds could e'er the wish inspire ;
Where equal rights each sober voice should guide,
No blood would stain them, and no war divide.
'Tis dark deception, 'tis the glare of state,
Man sunk in titles, lost in small and great :
'Tis rank, distinction, all the hell that springs
From those prolific monsters, courts and kings.
These are the vampires nurs'd on nature's spoils;
For these with pangs the starving peasant toils,
For these the earth's broad surface teems with grain,
Theirs the dread labours of the devious main ;
And when the wasted world but dares refuse
The gifts oppressive and extorted dues,
The}' bid wild slaughter spread the gory plair3,
The life-blood gushing from a thousand veins,
Erect their thrones amid the sanguine flood,
And dip their purple in the nation's blood.

The gazing crowd, of glittering state afraid,
Adore the power their coward meanness made ;
In Avar's short intervals, while regal shows
Still blind their reason and insult their woes,
What strange events for proud processions call !
See kingdoms crowding to a birth-night ball !
See the long pomp in gorgeous glare display'd,
The tinsel'd guards, the squadrou'd horse parade ;
See heralds gay, with emblems on their vest,

In tissu'd robes, tall, beauteous pages drest ;
Amid superior ranks of splendid slaves,
Lords, dukes and princes, titulary knaves,
Coufus'dly shine their crosses, gems and stars,
Sceptres and globes and crowns and spoils of wars.
On gilded orbs see thundering chariots roll'd,
Steeds, snorting fire, and champing bitts of gold,
Prance to the trumpet's voice ; while each assumes
A loftier gait, and lifts his neck of plumes.
High on a moving throne, and near the van,
The tyrant rides, the chosen scourge of man ;
Clarions and flutes and drums his way prepare,
And shouting millions rend the troubled air ;
Millions, whose ceaseless toils the pomp sustain,
Whose hour of stupid joy repays an age of pain.

Of these no more. From orders, slaves and kings,
To thee, 0 man, my heart rebounding springs,
Behold th' ascending bliss that waits thy call,
Heav'n's own bequest, the heritage of all.
Awake to wisdom, seize the proffer'd prize;
From shade to light, from grief to glory rise.
Freedom at last, with reason in her train,
Extends o'er earth her everlasting reign;
See Gallia's sons, so late the tyrant's sport,
Machines in war and sycophants at court,
Start into men, expand their well-taught mind,
Lords of themselves and leaders of mankind.
On equal rights their base of empire lies,
On walls of wisdom see the structure rise ;
Wide o'er the gazing world it towers sublime,
A moilell'd form for each surrounding clime.
To useful toils the}" bend their noblest aim,
Make patriot views and moral views the same.
Renounce the wisli of war, bid conquest cease,
Invite all men to happiness and peace,
To faith and justice rear the youthful race,
With strength exalt them and with science grace.
Till truth's blest banners, o'er the regions hurl'd,
Shake tyrants from their thrones, and cheer the
waking world.

In northern climes, where feudal shades of iate
Chill'd every heart and palsied every state,
Behold, illumin'd by th' instructive age,
That great phenomenon, a sceptred sage.
There Stanislaus unfurls his prudent plan.
Tears the strong bandage from the eyes of man.
Points the progressive march, and shapes the way.
That leads a realm from darkness into day.

And deign, for once, to turn a transient CA'C
To that wide world that skirts the western sky ;
Hail the mild morning, where the dawn began,
The full fruition of the hopes of man.
Where sage experience seals the sacred cause ■
And that rare union, liberty and laws.
Speaks to the reas'ning race : to freedom rise.
Like them be equal, and like them be wise.

THE ITASTY PUDDING.

A Poem in Three Cantos.

Written at Chambery in Savoy, January, 1793.

By Joel Bfrlow.

Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit utile dulci,

He makes a good breakfast who mixe3 pudding with

molasses.

To Mrs. Washington.

Madam : — A simplicity in diet, whether it be con-
sidered with reference to the happiness of individu-
als or the prosperity of a nation, is of more conse-
quence than we are apt to imagine. In recommend-
ing so great and necessary a virtue to the rational
part of mankind, I wish it were in my power to do
it in such a manner as would be likely to gain their
attention. I am sensible that it is one of those sub-

JOEL BARLOW.

401

jects in which example* hns infinitely more power
than the most convincing arguments, or the highest
charms of poetry. Goldsmith's Deserted Village,
though possessing these two advantages in a greater
degree than any other work of the kind, has not
prevented villages in England from being deserted.
The apparent interest of the rich individuals, who
form the taste as well as the laws in that country,
has been against him ; and with that interest it lias
been vain to contend.

The vicious habits which in this little piece I en-
deavor to combat, seem to me not so difficult to
cure. No class of people has any interest in sup-
porting them, unless it be the interest which certain
families may feel in vieing with each other in sump-
tuous entertainments. There may indeed be some
instances of depraved appetites which no arguments
will conquer ; but these must be rare. There are
very few persons but would always prefer a
plain dish for themselves, and would prefer it like-
wise for their guests, if there were no risk of repu-
tation in the case. This difficulty can only be re-
moved by example ; and the example should pro-
ceed from those whose situation enables them to
take the lead in forming the manners of a nation.
Persons of this description in America, I should hope,
are neither above nor below the influence of truth
and reason when conveyed in language suited to the
subject.

Whether the manner I have chosen to address
my arguments to them be such as to promise any
success, is what I cannot decide. But I certainly
had hopes of doing some good, or I should not have
taken the pains of putting so many rhymes together ;
and mueh less should I have ventured to place your
name at the head of these observations. ,

Your situation commands the respect and your
character the affections of a numerous people.
These circumstances impose a duty upon you, which
I believe you discharge to your own satisfaction
and that of others. The example of your domestic
virtues has doubtless a great effect among your
countrywomen. I only wish to rank simplicity of
diet among the virtues. In that case it will certainly
be cherished by you, and I should hope more es-
teemed by others than it is at present.

The Authoe.

the hasty puttoixg. canto i.

Ye Alps audacious, through the heavens that rise,
To cramp the day and hide me from the skies ;
Ye Gallic flags, that o'er their heights unfurled,
Bear death to kings, and freedom to the world,
I sing not you. A softer theme I choose,
A virgin theme, unconscious of the Muse,
But fruitful, rich, well suited to inspire
The purest frenzy of poetic fire.

Despise it not, ye bards to terror steel'd,
Who hurl your thunders round the epic field ;
Nor ye who strain your midnight throats to sing
Joys that the vineyard and the still-house bring ; ■
Or on some distant fair your notes employ,
And speak of raptures that you ne'er enjoy.
I sing the sweets I know, the charms I feel,
My morning incense, and my evening meal,
The sweets of Hasty Pudding. Come, dear bowl,
Glide o'er my palate, and inspire my soul.
The milk beside thee, smoking from the kine,
Its substance mingle, married in with thine,
Shall cool and temper thy superior heat,
And save the pains of blowing while I eat.

Oh ! could the smooth, the emblematic song
Flow like thy genial juices o'er my tongue,
Could those mild morsels in my numbers chime.
And, as they roll in substance, roll in rhyme,

vol. I.— 26

No more thy awkward nnpoetic name
Should shun the muse, or prejudice thy fame ;
But rising grateful to the aecustom'd ear,
All bards should catch it, and all realms revere 1

Assist me first with pious toil to trace
Through wrecks of time, thy lineage and thy race ;
Declare what lovely squaw, in da)*s of yore,
(Ere great Columbus sought thy native shore)
First gave thee to the world ; her works of fame
Have lived indeed, but lived without a name.
Some tawny Ceres, goddess of her days,
First learn'd with stones to crack the well dried.

maize,
Through the rough sieve to shake the golden shower.
In boiling water stir the yellow flour :
The yellow flour, bestrew'd and stirr'd with haste,
Swells in the flood and thickens to a paste,
Then puffs and wallops, rises to the brim.
Drinks the dry knobs that on the surface swim ;
The knobs at last the busy ladle breaks,
And the whole mass its true consistence takes.

Could but her sacred name, unknown so long,
Rise, like her labors, to the son of song,
To her, to them, I'd consecrate my Lays,
And blow her pudding with the breath of praise.
If 'twas Oella whom 1 sang before
I here ascribe her one great virtue more.
Not through the rieh Peruvian realms alone
The fame of Sol's sweet daughter should be known,
But o'er the world's wide clime should live secure,
Far as his rays extend, as long as they endure.

Dear Hasty Pudding, what unpromised joy
Expands my heart, to meet thee in Savoy !
Doom'd o'er the world through devious paths to

roam,
Each clime my country, and each house my home,
My soul is soothed, my cares have found an end,
I greet my long lost, unforgotten friend.

For thee through Paris, that corrupted town,
How long in vain I wandered up and down,
Where shameless Bacchus, with his drenching hoard.
Cold from his cave usurps the morning board.
Loudon is lost in smoke and steep'd in tea.;
No Yankee there can lisp the name of thee ;
The uncouth word, a libel on the town,
Would call a proclamation from the crown.*
From climes oblique, that fear the sun's full rays,
Chill'd in their fogs, exclude the generous maize:
A grain, whose rich, luxuriant growth requires
Short gentle showers, and bright etherial fires.

But here, though distant from our native shore,
With mutual glee, we meet and laugh once more,
The same ! I know thee by that yellow face,
That strong complexion of true Indian race,
Which time can never change, nor soil impair,
Nor Alpine snows, nor Turkey's morbid air ;
For endless years, through every mild domain,
Where grows the maize, there thou art sure to reign.

But man, more fickle, the bold license claims,
In different realms to give thee different names.
Thee the soft nations round the warm Levant
Polenta call, the French of course Polente.
E'en in thy native regions, how I blush
To hear the Penns3-lvanians call thee Mush I
On Hudson's banks, while men of Belgic spaw
Insult and eat thee by the name Suppawn.
All spurious appellations, void of truth ;
I've better known thee from my earliest youth,
Thy name is Hasty-Pudding ! thus my sire
Was wont to greet thee fuming from his fire ;
And while he argued in thy just defence

* A cert-tin king, at the time when this was written, was
publishing proclamations to prevent American, principles from .
being propagated in his country.

402

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

With logic clear, he thus explain'd the sense : —
" In haste the hoiling cauldron, o'er the blaze,
Receives and cooks the ready powder'd maize;
In haste 'tis served, and then in equal haste,
With cooling milk, we make the sweet repast.
No carving to be done, no knife to grate
The tender ear, and wound the stony plate ;
But the smooth spoon, just fitted to the lip,
And taught with art the yielding mass to dip,
By frequent journeys to the bowl well stored,
Perforins the hasty honors of the board."
Such is thy name, significant and clear,
A name, a sound to every Yankee dear,
But most to me, whose heart and palate chaste
Preserve my pure hereditary taste.

There are who strive to stamp with disrepute
The luscious food, because it feeds the brute ;
In tropes of high-strain'd wit, while gaudy prigs
Compare thy nursling, man, to paniper'd pigs ;
With sovereign scorn I treat the vulgar jest,
Nor fear to share thy bounties with the beast.
What though the generous cow gives me to quaff
The milk nutritious : am I then a calf?
Or can the genius of the noisy swine,
Though nursed on pudding, claim a kin to mine?
Sure the sweet song, I fashion to thy praise,
Runs more melodious than the notes they raise.

My song resounding in its grateful glee,
No merit claims : I praise myself in thee.
My father loved thee through his length of days!
For thee his fields were shaded o'er with maize ;
From thee what health, what vigor he possess'd,
Ten sturdy freemen from his loins attest ;
Thy constellation ruled my natal morn,
And all my bones were made of Indian corn.
Delicious grain ! whatever form it take,
To roast or boil, to smother or to bake,
In every dish 'tis welcome still to me,
But most, my Hasty Pudding, most in thee.

Let the green succotash with thee contend,
Let beans and corn their sweetest juices blend,
Let butter drench them in its yellow tide,
And a long slice of bacon grace their side;
Not all the plate, how famed soe'er it be,
Can please my palate like a bowl of thee.
Some talk of Hoe-Cake, fair Virginia's pride,
Rich Johnny-Cake, this mouth' has often tried;
Both please me well, their virtues much the Bame,
Alike their fabric, as allied their fame,
Except in dear New England, where the last
Receives a dash of pumpkin in the paste,
To give it sweetness and improve the taste.
But place them all before me, smoking hot,
The big, round dumpling, rolling from the pot,
The pudding of the bag, whose quivering breast,
With suet lined, leads on the Yankee feast,
The Charlotte brown, within whose crusty sides
A belly soft the pulpy apple hides ;
The yellow bread whose face like amber glows,
And all of Indian that the bake-pan knows, —
You tempt me not — my fav'rite greets my eyes,
To that loved bowl my spoon by instinct flies.

canto n.

To mis the food by vicious rules of art,
To kill the stomach, and to sink the h' A,
To make mankind to social virtue sour,
Cram o'er each dish, and be what they devour ;
For this the kitchen muse first fram'd her book,
Commanding sweats to stream from every cook;
Children no more their antic gambols tried,
And friends to physic wonder'd why they died.

Not so the Yankee — his abundant feast,
With simples furnish'd and with plainness dresfc,
A numerous offspring gathers round the board,

And cheers alike the servant and the lord ;

Whose well-bought hunger prompts the joyous taste,

And health attends them from the short repast.

While the full pail rewards the milk-maid's toil,
The mother sees the morning cauldron boil ;
To stir the pudding next demands their care ;
To spread the table and the bowls prepare ;
To feed the household as their portions cool
And send them all to labor or to schook

Yet may the simplest dish some rules impart,
For nature scorns not all the aids of art.
E'en Hasty-Pudding, purest of all food,
May still be bad, indifferent, or good,
As sage experience the short process guides,
Or want of skill, or want of care presides.
Whoe'er would form it on the surest plan,
To rear the child and long sustain the man ;
To shield the morals while it mends the size,
And all the powers of every food supplies,
Attend the lesson that the muse shall bring,
Suspend your spoons, and listen while I sing.

But since, 0 man ! thy life and health demand
Not food alone but labor from thy hand,
First in the field, beneath the sun's strong rays,
Ask of thy mother earth the needful maize;
She loves the race that courts her yielding soil.
And gives her bounties to the sons of toil.

When now the ox, obedient to thy call,
Repays the loan that fill'd the winter stall,
Pursue his traces o'er the furrow'd plain,
And plant in measur'd hills the golden grain.
But when the tender germ begins to shoot,
And the green spire declares the sprouting root,
Then guard your nursling from each greedy foe,
The insidious worm, the all-devouring crow.
A little ashes, sprinkled round the spire,
Soon steep'd in rain, will bid the worm retire ;
The feather'd robber with his hungry maw
Swift flies the field before your man of straw,
A frightful image, such as schoolboys bring,
When met to burn the pope, or hang the king.

Thrice in the season, through each verdant row
Wield the strong ploughshare and the faithful hoe :
The faithful hoe, a double task that takes,
To till the summer corn, and roast the winter cakes.

Slow springs the blade, while check'd by chilling
rains,
Ere yet the sun the seat of Cancer gains ;
But when his fiercest fires emblaze the land,
Then start the juices, then the roots expand ;
Then, like a column of Corinthian mould,
The stalk struts upward and the leaves unfold ;
The busy branches all the ridges fill,
Entwine their arms, and kiss from hill to hill.
Here cease to vex them, all your cares are done :
Leave the last labors to the parent sun ;
Beneath his genial smiles, the well-drest field,
When autumn calls, a plenteous crop shall yield.

Now the 6troug foliage bears the standards high,
And shoots the tall top-gallants to the sky ;
The suckling ears their silky fringes bend,
And pregnant grown, their swelling coats distend ;
The loaded stalk, while still the burthen grows,
O'erhangs the space that runs between the rows;
High as a hop-field waves the silent grove,
A safe retreat for little thefts of love,
When the pledged roasting-ears invite the maid,
To meet her swain beneath the new-form'd shade;
His generous hand unloads the cumbrous hill,
And the green spoils her ready basket fill ;
Small compensation for the two-fold bliss,
The promised wedding, and the present kiss.

Slight depredations these ; but now the moon
Calls from his hollow tree the sly raccoon ;
And while by night he bears his prize away,

JOEL BARLOW.

40,

The bolder squirrel labors through the day.
Both thieves alike, but provident of time,
A virtue rare, that almost hides their crime.
Then let them steal the little stores they can,
And fill their gran'ries from the toils of man ;
"We've one advantage, where they take no part, —
With all their wiles they ne'er have found the art
To boil the Hasty-Pudding ; here we shine
Superior far to tenants of the pine;
This envied boon to man shall still belong,
Unshared by them, in substance or in song.

At last the closing season browns the plain,
And ripe October gathers in the grain;
Deep loaded carts the spacious corn-house fill,
The sack distended marches to the mill ;
The lab'ring mill beneath the burthen groans,
And showers the future pudding from the stones ;
Till the glad housewife greets the powder'd gold,
And the new crop exterminates the old.
Ah who can sing what every wight must feel,
The joy that enters with the bag of meal,
A general jubilee pervades the house,
Wakes every child and gladdens every mouse.

CANTO III.

The days grow short; but though the falling sun
To the glad swain proclaims his day's work done,
Night's pleasing shades his various tasks prolong,
And yield new subjects to my various song.
For now, the corn-house fill'd, the harvest home,
The invited neighbors to the husking come;
A frolic scene, where work, and mirth, and play,
Unite their charms to chase the hours away.

Where the huge heap lies centred in the hall,
The lamp suspended from the cheerful wall,
Brown corn-fed nymphs, and strong hard-handed

beaus,
Alternate ranged, extend in circling rows,
Assume their seats, the solid mass attack ;
The dry husks rustle, and the corn-cobs crack;
The song, the laugh, alternate notes resound,
And the sweet cider trips in silence round.

The laws of husking every wight can tell;
And sure no laws he ever keeps so well:
For each red ear a general kiss he gains,
"With each smut ear he smuts the luckless swains ;
But when to some sweet maid a prize is cast,
Red as her lips, and taper as her waist,
She walks the round, and culls one favored beau,
"Who leaps, the luscious tribute to bestow.
Various the sport, as are the wits and brains
Of well pleased lasses and contending swains;
Till the vast mound of corn is swept away,
And he that gets the last, ear wins the day.

Meanwhile the housewife urges all her care,
The well-earu'd feast to hasten and prepare.
The sifted meal already waits her hand,
The milk is strain'd, the bowls in order stand,
The fire flames high ; and, as a pool (that takes
The headlong stream that o'er the mill-dam breaks)
Foams, roars, and rages, with incessant toils,
So the vex'd cauldron rages, roars and boilf.

First with clean salt, she seasons well the food,
Then strews the flour, and thickens all the flood.
Long o'er the simmering fire she lets it stand ;
To stir it well demands a stronger hand ;
The husband takes his turn: and round and round
The ladle flies ; at last the toil is crown'd ;
"When to the board the thronging buskers pour,
And take their seats as at the corn before.

I leave them to their'feast. There still belong
More useful matters to my faithful song.
For rules there are, though ne'er unfolded yet,
Kice rules and wise, how pudding should be ate.

Some with molasses grace the luscious treat,

And mix, like bards, the useful and the sweet.
A wholesome dish, and well deserving praise,
A great resource in those bleak wintry days,
When the chill'd earth lies buried deep in snow,
And raging Boreas dries the shivering cow.

Blest cow! thy praise shall still my notes employ,
Great source of health, the only source of joy ;
Mother of Egypt's god, — but sure, for me,
Were I to leave my God, I'd worship thee.
How oft thy teats these pious bands have prcss'd!
How oft thy bounties prove my only feast!
How oft I've fed thee with my favoi ite grain !
And roar'd, like thee, to see thy children slain!

Ye swains who know her various worth to prize,
Ah ! house her well from winter's angry skies.
Potatoes, pumpkins, should her sadness cheer,
Corn from your crib, and mashes from your beer ;
When spring returns, she'll well acquit the loan,
And nurse at once your infants and her own.

Milk then with pudding I should always choose;
To this in future I confine my muse,
Till she in haste some further hints unfold,
Good for the young, nor useless to the old.
First in your bowl the milk abundant take,
Then drop with care along the silver lake
Your flakes of pudding ; these at first will bide
Their little bulk beneath the swelling tide ;
But when their growing mass no more can sink,
When the soft island looms above the brink,
Then check your hand ; you've got the portion due,
So taught my sire, and what he taught is true.

There is a choice in spoons. Though small appear
The nice distinction, yet to me 'tis clear.
The deep bowl'd Gallic spoon, contrived to scoop
In ample draughts the thin diluted soup,
Performs not well in those substantial things,
Whose mass adhesive to the metal clings;
Where the strong labial muscles must embrace,
The gentle curve, and sweep the hollow space.
With ease to enter and discharge the freight,
A bowl less concave, but still more dilate,
Becomes the pudding best. The shape, the size,
A secret rests, unknown to vulgar eyes.
Experienced feeders can alone impart
A rule so much above the lore of art.
These tuneful lips that thousand spoons have tried,
With just precision could the point decide.
Though not in song ; the muse but poorly shines
In cones, and cubes, and geometric lines;
Yet the true form, as near as she can tell,
Is that small section of a goose egg shell,
Which in two equal portions shall divide
The distance from the centre to the side.

Fear not to slaver; 'tis no deadly sin: =-

Like the free Frenchman, from your joyous cliin

Suspend the ready napkin ; or like me,

Piuse with one hand your bowl upon your knee ;

Just in the zenith your wise head project,

Your full spoon, rising in a line direct,

Bold as a bucket, heed no drops that fall,

The wide mouth'd bowl will surely catch them all!*

* The following note was added : —

"There are various ways of preparing and eating it; with
molasses, butter, sugar, cream, and fried. Why "so excel-
lent a thing cannot be eaten alone ? Nothing is perfect alone,
even man who boasts of so much perfection is nothing without
his follow substance. In eating, beware of the lurking heat
that lies deep in the mass; dip your spoon gently, take shallow
dips and cool it by degrees. It is sometimes necessary to blow.
This is indicated by certain signs which every experienced
feeder knows. They should be taught to young beginners. I
have known a child's toniruc blistered for "want of this atten-
tion, and then the schooldame would insist that the poor tiling
had told a lie. A mistake: the falsehood was in the faithless
pudding. A prudent mother will cool it fur herchild with her
own sweet breath. The husband, seeing this, pretends his own
wants blowing too from the same lips. A sly deceit of love.

404

CYCLOP/EDIA OF AMERICAN LITER AT ERE.

JOHN MAESIIAIX.

Joitx Maiisiiall, the author of the Life of Wash-
ington, and the judicial basis of authority of the
Supreme Court of the United States, was one
of the vigorous natural growths of America,
which could sometimes out of the field of action
and the energies of the new state produce even
great lawyers — the product, according to Lord
Coke, of the vigils of twenty years — at much
shorter notice. Hamilton took his station at the
liar in almost a single step from the camp. Mar-
shall's education was that of a soldier. Both,
however, possessed what neither the Temple nor^
Westminster Hall, Littleton nor Coke could con-
fer— the judicial mind. Nature had set in these
men the elements of the law, and whatever wind
that should blow, was to ripen them.

John Marshall was horn (the eldest of a family
of fifteen children) in Fauquier county, Virginia,
September 24, 1755. His father was a man of
character and ability, of limited education and
opportunities among the mountains of Virginia,
but of sufficient insight and sagacity to direct the
capacities of his son, whom he placed, at the age
of fourteen, under the charge of a clergyman, a
Mr. Campbell, at a considerable distance from his
home, receiving him back again at the end of a
year, to complete what book knowledge he was
to start in the world with, under the tuition of
another clergyman from Scotland, who had then
become guardian of the parish, and an inmate of
his father's house. This is one of many instances
in which the great minds of America received
their first discipline at the hands of the clergy.
At a somewhat later day, in Virginia, William
Wirt, another legal eminence, received his first
culture and generous love of learning at the
hands of a clergyman — the Rev. James Hunt, from
Princeton. James Madison wai educated by a

Sho knows the cheat, but feigning icrnoranco, tends her pouting
lips and srivcs a gentle blast, which warms the husband's heart
loore than it cools his rmdding."

clergyman, and also Legare. Hamilton in the
West Indies was taught, and sent to New York
by a clergyman, Dr. Knox, at Santa Cruz, and
two clergymen of that city, Drs. Rodgers and Ma-
son, received him on his arrival. In New Eng-
land it was the general rule. The clergyman was
the sun of the intellectual system in village, town-
ship, and city. John Adams, in his early life —
we may take him as a fair type of self-culture,
seizing upon all neighboring advantages — was al-
most as much a clerical growth as e, pupil of St.
doer's or the Propaganda. Throughout the
South, the clergyman was the pioneer of educa-
tion. This is a missionary influence which does
not suggest itself so prominently as it should to
the American of the present day. We are apt to
think of the clergyman only in his relation to the
pulpit, and confine our notions of his influence to
the family and the parish, in those concerns of
eternal welfare which are locked up in the priva-
cies of home and the heart. These spiritual rela-
tions have, indeed, the grandest and widest,
scope; but there are others which should not
be separated from them. The clergyman not
only sanctified and cemented the parish, but he
founded the state. It was his instruction which
moulded the soldier and the statesman. Living
among agriculturists remote from towns, where
language and literature would natural]}' be neglect-
ed and corrupted, in advance of the schoolmaster
and the school, he was the future college in embryo.
When we see men like Marshall graduating at his
right hand, with no other courses than the sim-
ple man of God who had left the refinements of
civilization for the wilderness taught, and with no
other diploma but his benediction, we may indeed
stop to honor their labors. Let the name of the
American missionary of the colonial and revolu-
tionary age suggest something more to the stu-
dent of our history than the limited notion of a
combatant with heathenism and vice. He was
also the companion and guide to genius and vir-
tue. When the memorials of those days are
written, let his name be recorded, in no insignifi-
cant or feeble letters, on the page with the great
men of the state whom his talents and presence
inspired.

Like his father, Marshall took part in the active
military service of the Revolutionary war, start-
ing in the action of the provincial militia of Vir-
ginia with Lord Dumnore at the Great Bridge.
He attained the rank of a Captain in 1777, and
was at the battles of Brandywine, Germantown,
and Monmouth, continuing with his Virginia
company till the expiration of their term of ser-
vice. In the midst of these affairs he attained his
initiatory knowledge of law; was admitted to the
bar in 1780, and recalled at once to the field to
repel the invasion of Arnold. He rose rapidly in
his legal profession at the close of the war in
1782, when he was elected to the legislature of
his state, appearing in that assembly, from va-
rious constituencies, till 179(3. When the Con-
stitution of the United States was ratified in 1788
by the Virginia convention, he was a member of
that body, ably seconding its provisions. In 1797
he was minister to France, with Pinckney and
Gerry, in the unsuccessful attempt at negotiation
with the French Directory, when his native man-
liness and honor were brought in contact with

JOHN MARSHALL".

40;

the mean and subtle policy of Talleyrand. Re-
turning to America the next year, he was elected
to Congress in 1799. His speech in the House
of Representatives, when the papers were called
for in the Robbing case, is one of the great land-
marks of Congressional debate. Robbins had
been a mutineer in the British navy ; had escaped"
to the United States ; betrayed his disguise at
Charleston ; been reclaimed under the British
treaty; surrendered by the administration; car-
ried off to Halifax; tried, and executed. Mar-
shall closed a long debate with a brilliant legal
vindication of the Government. It prepared his
way to the Chief-Justiceship of the Supreme
Court in 1801, the office with which his memory
is identified. In the authority and ability of his
decisions, extended over a period of thirty-five
years, he still exists in the life and action of the
Republic*

His latest memorialist, Benton, quotes John
Randolph's eulogy of his "native dignity and un-
pretending grace" in tins office, and adds this tri-
bute to the man and his manners : — " Be was
supremely fitted for high judicial station — a solid
judgment, great reasoning powers, acute and pe-
netrating mind ; with manners and habits to suit
the purity and the sanctity of the ermine ; atten-
tive, patient, laborious; grave on the bench, so-
cial in the intercourse of life; simple in his tastes,
and inexorably -just. Seen by a stranger come
into a room, and he would be taken for a modest
country gentleman, without claims to attention,
and ready to take the lowest place in company
or at table, and to act -his part without trouble
to anybody. Spoken to and closely observed, he
could be seen to be a gentleman of finished breed-
ing,-of winning and prepossessing talk, and just
as much mind as the- occasion required him to
show."t

In 1805 appeared his Life of Washington, in
five octavo volumes.J As a narrative it is faith-
ful and conscientious, and it relies on valuable
original material, the writer having had access to
the papers of the family.

Marshall died in office, at Philadelphia, July G,
183-3, having, shortly previous to his death, borne
with characteristic fortitude a painful and tem-
porarily successful operation for the stone. As
the patient was nearly eighty years of age, this is
one of the remarkable cases of medical science.

A courteous and intelligent English traveller in
the United States, the Hon. Charles Augustus
Murray, has given us a pleasing picture of Mar-
shal], as ho appeared at Richmond in 1835, a few
months before his death : — " A tall, venerable
man ; his hair tied in a cue, according to olden
custom, and with a countenance indicating that

* In 1S39. an octavo volume of Marshall's leading decisions
in the Supreme Court was published in Boston — --The Writ-
ings of John Marshall, late Chief Justice of the UDited States,
upon the Federal Constitution,1'

t Thirty Years1 View, by a Senator, i. GS1.

t The Life of George Washington, Commander-in-chief of
the American forces, during the war which established the in-
dependence of his country, and fl:'st President of the United
States: compiled under the inspection of the Honourable
Bushrod Washington, from original papers bequeathed to him
by his deceased relative, and now in possession of the author,
to which is prefixed an Introduction, containing a compen-
dious view of the Colonies planted by the English on the Con-
tinent of North America, from the settlement to the. com-
mencement of that war which terminated in their Indepen-
dence. By John -Marshall, Philadelphia

simplicity of mind and benignity which so emi-
nently distinguish his character. I had the plea-
sure of several long conversations with him, and

. was struck with admiration at the extraordinary
union of modesty and power, gentleness and force

! which his mind displays. His house is small, and
more humble in appearance than those of the
average of successful lawyers or merchants. I
called three times upon him ; there is no bell to
the door; once I turned the handle of it, and
walked in unannounced; on the other two occa-
sions he had seen me coming, and lifted the hitch
and received me at the door, although he was at
the time suffering from some very severe contu-
sions received in the stage while travelling on the

I road from Fredericksburg to Richmond. I verily

i believe there is not a particle of vanity in his
composition, unless it be of that venial and hospi-

| table nature which induces him to pride himself
on giving to his friends the best glass of Madeira
in Virginia."*

Anecdotes of the simplicity of Marshall are
numerous. On one occasion, as the story has

I been related to us, at the old market at Rich-
mond, meeting a would-be exquisite, and hear-
ing him call for some one to take a turkey
which he had purchased home for him, he hu-
morously offered himself. He was in his usual
plain dress, and the gentleman, taking him for a
countryman, accepted his services. The judge
carried the turkey home, and actually received a
shilling for his services, which proved a very
costly retainer to the young man, in the amount
of chagrin he endured, when he found that his
porter was the Chief-Justice of the United States.
He added to his rustic appearance with his home-
spun dress and yarn stockings, on some occasions,
by coining into court covered with the burrs
caught in riding through the woods from his
farm on his little p'ony.

His favorite haunt at Richmond was Bucha-
nan's spring, just on the edge of town, where he
used to go with the club of which he was a
member, pitch quoits, drink juleps, and dispute
about the technicalities of the game with the'
zest of a boy. The club still survives, rich in
these traditions.!

WASHINGTON.

la the sober language of reality, without attempt-
ing to deck a figure wick ornaments or with qualities
borrowed from the imagination, a person who has
had some opportunity to observe him while living,
and who since his decease has most assiduously in-
spected his private and public papers, will endeavour
faithfully to give the impressions which lie has him-
self received.

General Washington was rather above the com-*
moil size, his frame was robust, and his constitution
vigorous — capable of enduring great fatigue, and
requiring a considerable degree of exercise for tin;
preservation of his health. His exterior created in
the beholder the idea of strength united with manly
gracefulness.

His manners were rather reserved than free,

* Travels in North America during the years IS34-5-6, ch.
i.v.

tArt Encyclopedia Americana. Supplementary Volume.
Life bv Story, American Portrait Gallery, and Discourse be-
fore the Suffolk Bar. 1S35. Sketch and Eulogy by Horace
Binney, Philadelphia, 1SCS. George Vau Santvoord's Lives of
Chief Justices, ISoi.

406

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

though they partook nothing of thnt dryness and
sternness "which accompany reserve "when carried to
an extreme; and on all proper occasions, he could
relax sufficiently to show how highly he was grati-
fied by the charms of conversation, ami the pleasures
of society. His person and whole deportment ex-
hibited an unaffected and indescribable dignity, im-
mingled with haughtiness, of which all who ap-
proached him were sensible ; and the attachment of
those who possessed his friendship and enjoyed his
intimacy, was ardent but always respectful

His temper was humane, benevolent, and con-
ciliatory ; but there was a quickness in his sensi-
bility to any thing apparently offensive, which ex-
perience had taught him to watch and to correct.

In the management of his private affairs, he
exhibited an exact yet liberal economy. His funds
were not prodigally wasted on capricious and ill
examined schemes, nor refused to beneficial though
costly improvements. They remained therefore
competent to that expensive establishment which
his reputation, added to a hospitable temper, had in
some measure imposed upon him, and to those
donations which real distress has a right to claim
from opulence.

He made no pretensions to that vivacity which
fascinates, or to that wit which dazzles, and frequently
imposes on the understanding. More solid than
brilliant, judgment rather than genius constituted
the most prominent feature of his character.

As a military man, he was brave, enterprising,
and cautious. That malignity which has sought to
strip hirn of all the higher qualities of a general,
has conceded to him personal courage, and a firm-
ness of resolution] which neither dangers nor diffi-
culties could shake. But candour will allow him
other great and valuable endowments. If his mili-
tary course does not abound with splendid achieve-
ments, it exhibits a series of judicious measures
adapted to circumstances, which probably saved his
country.

Placed, without having studied the theory, or
been taught in the school of experience, the practice
of war, at the head of an undisciplined, ill-organized
multitude, which was unused to the restraints and
unacquainted with the ordinary duties of a camp,
without the aid of officers . possessing those lights
which the commander-in-chief was yet to acquire, it
would have been a miracle indeed had his conduct
been absolutely faultless. But, possessing an ener-
getic and distinguishing mind, on which the lessons
of experience were never lost, his errors, if he com-
mitted an}', were quickly repaired ; and those
measures which the state of things rendered most
advisable, were seldom if ever neglected. Inferior
to bis adversary in the numbers, in the equipment,
and in the discipline of his troops, it is evidence of
real merit that no great or decisive advantages were
ever obtained over him, and that the opportunity to
strike an important blow never passed away unused.
He has been termed the American Fabius ; but those
•who compare his actions with his means, will per-
ceive at least as much of Marcellus as of Fabius in
his character. He could not have been more enter-
prising without endangering the cause he defended,
nor have put more to hazard, without incurring
justly the imputation of rashness. Not relying upon
those chances which sometimes give a favourable
issue to attempts apparently desperate, his conduct
was regulated by calculations made upon the capa-
cities of his army, and the real situation of his
country. When called a second time to command
the armies of the United states, a change of circum-
stances had taken place, and he meditated a cor-
responding change of conduct. In modelling the

army of 1798, he sought for men distinguished for
their boldness of execution, not less than for their
prudence in counsel, and contemplated a system of
continued attack. "The enemy," said the general
in his private letters, " must never be permitted to
gain foothold on our shores."

In his civil administration, as in his military
career; were exhibited ample and repeated proofs
of that practical good sense, of that sound judgment
which is perhaps the most rare, and is certainly the
most valuable quality of the human mind. Devot-
ing himself to the duties of his station, and pursuing
no object distinct from the public good, he was ac-
customed to contemplate at a distance those critical
situations in which the United States might pro-
bably be placed ; and to digest, before the occasion
required action, the line of conduct which it would
be proper to observe. Taught to distrust first im-
pressions, he sought to acquire all the information
which was attainable, and to hear, without pre-
judice, all the reasons which could be urged for or
against a particular measure. His own judgment wae
suspended until it became necessary to determine,
and his decisions, thus maturely made, were seldom
if ever to be shaken. His conduct therefore was
systematic, and the great objects of his administra-
tion were steadily pursued.

Respecting, as the first magistrate in a free govern-
ment must ever do, the real and deliberate senti-
ments of the people, their gusts of passion passed
over without ruffling the smooth surface of his
mind. Trusting to the reflecting good sense of the
nation for approbation and support, lie had the mag-
nanimity to pursue its real interests in opposition to
its temporary prejudices ; and, though far from
being regardless of popular favour, he could never
stoop to retain by deserving to lose it. In more
instances than one, we find him committing his
whole popularity to hazard, and pursuing steadily,
in opposition to a torrent which would ha.ve over-
whelmed a man of ordinary firmness, that course
which had been dictated by a sense of dut}'.

In speculation, he was a real republican, devoted
to the constitution of his country, and to that
system of equal political rights on which it is
founded. But between a balanced republic and a
democracy, the difference is like that between order
and chaos. Real liberty, he thought, was to be pre-
served only by preserving the authority of the
laws, and maintaining the energy of government.
Scarcely did society present two characters which,
in his opinion, less resembled each other than a '
patriot and a demagogue.

No man has ever appeared upon the theatre, of
public action whose integrity was more incorrup-
tible, or whose principles were more perfectly free
from the contamination of those selfish and un-
worthy passions which find their nourishment in the
conflicts of party. Having no views which re-
quired concealment, his real and avowed motives
were the same ; and his whole correspondence does
not furnish a single ease from which even an enemy
would infer that he was capable, under any circum-
stances, of stooping to the employment of duplicity.
No truth can be uttered with more confidence than
that his ends were always upright, and his means
always pure. He exhibits the rare example of a
politician to whom wiles were absolutely unknown,
and whose professions to foreign governments and
to his own countrymen were always sincere. In him
was fully exemplified the real distinction "which for
ever exists between wisdom and cunning, and the
importance as well as truth of the maxim, that
" honesty is the best policy."

If Washington possessed ambition, that passion

AAEON BANCROFT.

407

was, in his bosom, so regulated by principles, or
controlled by circumstances, that it was neither
vicious nor turbulent. Intrigue was never employed
as the mean of its gratification, nor was personal
aggrandizement its object. The various high and
important stations to which he was called by the
public voice were unsought by himself; and in con-
senting to fill them, he seems rather to have yielded
to a general conviction that the interests of his
country would be thereby promoted, than to his par-
ticular inclination.

Neither the»extraordinary partiality of the Ameri-
can people, the extravagant praises which were
bestowed upon him, nor the inveterate opposition
and malignant calumnies which he experienced, had
any visible influence upon his conduct. The cause
is to be looked for in the texture of his mind.
. In him, that innate and unassuming modesty
which adulation would have offended, which the
voluntary plaudits of millions could not betray into
indiscretion, and which never obtruded upon others
his claims to superior consideration, was happily
blended with a high and correct sense of personal
dignity, and with a just consciousness of that respect
which is due to station. Without exertion, he could
maintain the happy medium between that arrogance
which wounds, and that facility which allows the
office to be degraded in the person who fills it.

It is impossible to contemplate the great events
which have occurred in tiie United States under the
auspices of Washington, without ascribing them, in
some measure, to him. If we ask the causes of the
prosperous issue of a war, against the successful
termination of which there were so man}' probabili-
ties? of the good which was produced, and the ill
which was avoided during an administration fated
to contend \vi h the strongest prejudices that a com-
bination of circumstances and of passions could pro-
duce '! of the constant favour of the great mass of
)iis fellow-citizens, and of the confidence which, to
the last moment of his life, they reposed in him? the
answer, so far as these causes may be found in his
character, will furnish a lesson well meriting the
attention of those who are candidates for political
fame.

Endowed by nature with a sound judgment, and
an accurate discriminating mind, he feared not that
laborious attention which made him perfectly master
of those subjects, in all their relations, on which he
was to decide : and this essential quality was guided
by an unvarying sense of moral right, which would
tolerate the employment only of those means that
would bear the most rigid examination ; by a fairness
of intention which neither sought nor required dis-
guise: and by a purity of virtue which was not
ouly untainted, but unsuspected.

AAEON BANCROFT
Was born at Reading, Massachusetts, November
10, 1735. His father was a farmer, and the son
assisted him in the intervals of his hurried studies
with the migratory school of the district. He
entered Harvard in 1774, and succeeded in the
midst of the revolutionary difficulties in getting
his degree in 1788. He became a clergyman, and
in 1780 accepted a call to Yarmouth, Nova Sco-
tia, with the consent of the executive council of

177

4-

<*&

O £i^y^^ e^-ef ',

Massachusetts. On his return in 1783, he was en-
gaged in Connecticut and his native state in preach-

ing, forming a permanent connexion with a congre-
gational society at Worcester, in 1785. He pub-
lished a great number of sermons and addresses.*
Many of these are on topics of religious educa-
tion. He also took an active part in the affairs
of his town, in the improvement of secular in-
struction, His Life of Washington, a narrative
written with ease ami simplicity, mainly based on
the work of Marshall, in which he led the way
for the pursuits of his son the historian, was pub-
lished at Worcester in an octavo volume, in 1807.
He delivered, on the 81st January, 1836, a dis-
course on the fifty years of his ministry at
Worcester, which has been printed with historical
notes. John Adams admired his Sermons on the
Doctrines of the Gospel. In 1823, he acknow-
ledges "the gift of a precious volume. It is a
chain of diamonds set in links of gold. I have
never read, nor heard read, a volume of sermons
better calculated and adapted to the age and coun-
try in which it was written."

Dr. Bancroft died at Worcester, in his eighty-
fifth year, August 19, 1840.

GEOBGE WASHINGTON.

General Washington was exactly six feet in height ;
he appeared taller, as his shoulders rose a little
higher than the true proportion. His eyes were of
a gray, and his hair of a brown color. His limbs
were well formed, and indicated strength. His com-
plexion was light, and his countenance serene and
thoughtful.

His manners were graceful, manly, and dignified.
His general appearance never failed to engage the
respect and esteem of all who approached him.

Possessing strong natural passions, and having the
nicest feelings of honor, he was in early life prone
keenly to resent practices which carried the intention
of abuse or insult ; but the reflections of maturer ago
gave Iiim the most perfect government of himself,
lie possessed a faculty above all other men to hide
the weaknesses inseparable from human nature ; and
he bore with meekness and equanimity his distin-
guished honors.

Reserved, but not haughty, in his disposition, he
was accessible to all in concerns of business, but he
opened himself ouly to his confidential friends ; and
no art or address could draw from him an opinion,
which he thought prudent to conceal.

He was not so much distinguished for brilliancy
of genius as for solidity of judgment, and consum-
mate prudence of conduct. He was not so eminent
for any one quality of greatness and worth, as for
the union of those great, amiable, and good quali-
ties, which are very rarely combined in the same
character.

His maxims were- formed upon the result of ma-
ture reflection, or extensive experience ; they were
the invariable rules of his practice ; and on all im-
portant instances, he seemed to have an intuitive
view of what the occasion rendered fit and proper.
He pursued his purposes with a resolution, which,
one solitary moment excepted, never failed him.

Alive to social pleasures, he delighted to enter
into familiar conversation with his acquaintance, and
was sometimes sportive in his letters to his friends ;
but he never lost sight of the dignity of his charac-
ter, nor deviated from the decorous and appropriate
behaviour becoming his station in society.

* Thirty-five are enumerated in the notice of his life from
wbicb these tacts are taken, in Lincoln's Uistory of "Worcester,
p. 213.

408

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

He commanded from al] the most respectful atten-
tion, and no man in bis company ever fell into light
or lewd conversation. His stjTe of living corres-
ponded with his wealth; but his extensive establish-
ment was managed with the strictest economy, and
he ever reserved ample funds liberally to promote
Bchemes of private benevolence, and works of pub-
lic utility. Punctual himself to every engagement,
he exacted from others a strict fulfilment of con-
tracts, but to the necessitous he was diffusive' in his
charities, and he greatly assisted the poorer classes
of people in his vicinity, by furnishing them with
means successfully to prosecute plans of industry.

In domestic and private life, he blended the au-
thority of the master with the care and kindness of
the guardian and friend. Solicitous for the welfare
of his slaves, while at Mount Vernon, lie every
morning rode round his estates to examine their
condition ; for the sick, physicians were provided,
and to the weak and infirm every necess.'iry comfort
was administered. The servitude of the negroes
lay with weight upon his mind ; he often made it
the subject of conversation, and revolved several
plans for their general emancipation ; but could
devise none, which promised success, in consistency
with humanity to them, and safety to the state.

The address presented to him at Alexandria, on
the commencement of his presidency, fully shows
how much he was endeared to his neighbors, and
the affection and esteem in which his friends held
his private character.

His industry was unremitted, and his method so
exact, that all the complicated business of his mili-
tary command, and civil administration, was man-
aged without confusion, and without hurry.

Not feeling the lust of power, and ambitious only
for honorable fame, he devoted himself to his coun-
try upon the most disinterested principles : and his
actions wore not the semblance but the reality of
virtue: the purity of his motives was accredited,
and absolute confidence placed in his patriotism.

While filling a public station, the performance of
his duty took the place of pleasure, emolument, and
every private consideration. Luring the more criti-
cal years of the war, a smile was scarcely seen upon
his countenance ; he gave himself no moments of
relaxation ; but his whole mind was engrossed to exe-
cute successfully his trust.

As a military commander, he struggled with in-
numerable embarrassments, arising from the short
enlistment of his men, and from the want of provi-
sions, clothing, arms, and ammunition ; and an
opinion of his achievements should be formed in
view of these inadequate means.

The first years of his civil administration were
attended with the extraordinary fact, that while a
great proportion of his countrymen did not approve
his measures, they universally venerated his charac-
ter, and relied implicitly on his integrity. Although
his opponents eventually deemed it expedient to
vilify his character, that they might diminish his
political influence; yet the moment that he retired
from public life, they returned to their expressions
of veneration and esteem ; and after his death used
every endeavor to secure to their party the influ-
ence of ids name.

He was as eminent for piety as for patriotism. His
public and private conduct evince, that he impres-
sively felt a sense of the superintendence of God and
of the dependence of man. In his addresses, while
at the head of the army, and of the national govern-
ment, he gratefully noticed the signal blessings of
Providence, and fervently commended his country
to divine benediction. In private, he was known to
have been habitually devout.

In principle and practice he was a Christian. The
support of an Episcopal church, in the vicinity of
Mount Vernon, rested principally upon him, and
here, when on his estate, he with constancy attend-
ed public worship. In his address to the American
people, at the close of the war, mentioning the
favorable period of the world at which the inde-
pendence of his country was established, and enu-
merating the causes which unitedly had ameliorated
the condition of human society, he, above science,
philosophy, commerce, and all other considerations,
ranked" the pure and benign light of Revelation.'"
Supplicating Heaven that his fellow citizens might
cultivate the disposition, and practise the virtues,
which exalt a community, he presented the follow-
ing petition to his God : That he would most gra-
ciously be pleased to dispose us all to do justice, to
love mercy, and to demean ourselves with that
charity, humility, and pacific temper of mind, which
were the characteristics of the Dicine Author of
our blessed religion; without a humble imitation of
whose example in these things, we can never hope
to be a happy nation.

During the war, he not unfrequently rode ten or
twelve miles from camp to attend public worship;
and he never omitted this attendance, when oppor-
tunity presented.

In the establishment of his presidential household,
he reserved to himself the Sabbath, free from the
interruptions of private visits, or public business;
and throughout the eight years of his civil adminis-
tration, he gave to the institutions of Christianity
the influence of his example.

He was as fortunate as great and good.

Under his auspices, a civil war was conducted with
mildness, and a revolution with order. . Raised him-
self above the influence of popular passions, he hap-
pily directed these passions to the most useful pur-
poses. • Uniting the talents of the soldier with the
qualifications of the statesman, and pursuing, un-
moved by difficulties, the noblest end by the purest
means, he had the supreme satisfaction of beholding
the complete success of his great military and civil
services, in the independence and happiness of his
country.

HAXNAH ADAMS.

The life of this lad}' presents an admirable exam-
ple of self-reliance and perseverance. She was
probably the first woman in the country to
devote herself to a literary life, and this, too, at a
time when the temptations such a career could
offer, to either sex, were insignificant, either in
view of fame or gain.

Hannah Adams was horn at Medfield, near
Boston, in 1756. Her father was a man of edu-
cation, who endeavored to procure the means of
support from a small country store. To the use
of the books which- constituted — the calls of his
customers being taken as a standard — an undue
proportion of his stock, his daughter attributed
her early taste for literature: She was a diligent
student, although ill health rendered her attend-
ance at school extremely irregular. She obtained
from some young divinity students, who boarded
at her father's house, a knowledge of Greek and
Latin, and from a small manuscript, containing an
account of Arminians, Calvinists, and a few other
leading denominations, in the possession of one of
these, the hint of her first work, the View of Re-
ligious Opinions.

She had lost her mother at the early age of ten
years, and the ill success of her father in bust-

HENRY LEE.

400

ness threw the family on their own resources.
" During the American Revolutionary war," she
informs us in her admirable little autobiography,
" I learned to weave bobbin laee, which was then
saleable, and much more profitable to me than
spinning, sewing, or knitting, which had pre-
viously been my employment. At this period, I
found but little time for literary pursuits. But at
the termination of the American war, this re-
source failed, and I was again left in a destitute
situation." Thus circumstanced, she commenced
the View of Religious Opinions, giving instruc-
tions in Greek and Latin at the same time to
three young students of theology in the neigh-
borhood. Her " View," after various difficulties
in finding a printer, was published in 1784. It
met with a good sale, of which the printer reaped
the profit. A second edition, enlarged and cor-
rected, was published in 1791, which by the aid
of friends, who made her bargain witli the pub-
lisher and exerted themselves in obtaining sub-
scribers for copies, was so successful, that, as she
says, "the emolument I derived from it not only
placed me in a comfortable situation, but enabled
me to pay the debts I had contracted during mine
and my sister's illness, and to put out a small sum
at interest."

Her next undertaking was a History of New
England, in the preparation for which she
pored so assiduously over old colonial records
and other dim manuscripts, as to seriously impair
her eyesight. By a cessation from labor, and
frequent use of " laudanum and sea water several
times in the course of the day, for two years,"
she recovered, and by employing an amanuensis,
was enabled to print the book in 1709.

Her history meeting with a good sale, she
formed the plan of abridging it for the use of
schools. Before doing this, she "set about
wiiting a concise view of the Christian religion,
selected from the writings of eminent laymen."
"I found it difficult," she continues, "to procure
proper materials for the work, as I was utterly
unable to purchase books. A considerable part
of this compilation, as well as the additions to the
third edition of my View of Religions, was writ-
ten in booksellers' shops. I went to make visits
in Boston, in order to consult books in this wajT,
Which it was impossible for me to buy or bor-
row." These difficulties, so simply narrated that
we almost lose sight of their formidableness, sur-
mounted, and the manuscript completed, others
followed with publishers, and she was glad at last
t i sell the copyright for one hundred dollars in
books.

Her abridged History of New England was an-
ticipated by a work of a similar character by the
Rev. Jedidiah Morse, author of the first Ameri-
can geography. Tins led to a controversy which
excited much attention and warmth of feeling.
Her book,'when.it appeared, unfortunately brought
her no remuneration, on account of the failure of
her printer. Her personal and literary merits
had, however, by this time gained her many and
influential friends, among whom President Adams
was preeminent in rank and kindness, and by
their aid she was enabled to supply her simple
wants and prosecute her studies.

The labor to which she next devoted herself,
was a History of the Jews. This subject engaged

all her attention. "If you would know Miss
Adams," said one of her friends, " you must talk
to her about the Jews." She corresponded with
the Abbe Gregoire upon the subject, and consult-
ed every authority to which she could obtain
access. In this last respect, her resources were
less limited than at previous periods of her life,
as she had free access to the Boston Athenteum,
and the library of her friend the Rev. J. S. Buck-
minster. Her failing health, however, prevented
the completion of her work.

In the latter years of her life, Miss Adams en-
joyed a comfortable annuity raised by her friends.
She died at Brookline, near Boston, 1832. Her
autobiography, with a continuation by a friend,
Mrs. H. F. Lee, was published in the same year.*

HENEY LEE.
Hestjy Lee, the author of the Memoirs of the
War in the Southern Dejjartment of the United
States, was a member of a leading family in Vir-
ginia, where he was born, January 29, 1756. He
was educated at Princeton College.

In 1776 he was made captain of one of the six
companies of cavalry raised by Virginia. In Sep-
tember, 1777, these companies formed into one
regiment were united with the Continental army.

Lee soon gained distinction by the high state
of discipline and efficiency he maintained in his
company, which at the battle x>f Gennantown
was selected by Washington as his body-guard.
In January, 1778, when occupying with ten men '
a stone house, the rest of his troop being absent
in search of forage, the building was surrounded
by two hundred of the enemy's cavalry, who en-
deavored to take him prisoner, but were met with
so determined a resistance that they were com-
pelled to retreat. He was soon after this promot-
ed to the rank of major, with the command of
three companies of cavalry; and in 1780, having
been made lieutenant-colonel, was sent with his.

* A Memoir of Miss Tlannah Adams, written by herself,
with additional notices by a friend. Boston, Gray ci liowen.
1S32. 12mo. pp. 110.

410

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

troops to join the southern army under Gene-
ral Greene, where he remained until the close of
the war, distinguishing himself in several actions.

In 1786 he was sent to Congress, where he
remained until the new constitution went into
operation. In 1792, having previously served in
the house of delegates and the convention for the
ratification of the federal Constitution, he was
elected governor of Virginia. In the last of his
three years of office, he was placed by President
Washington in command of the forces sent to the
western part of Pennsylvania to suppress the
Whiskey Insurrection. In 1799 he was sent to
Congress.

He was honorably distinguished by this body
in being selected to deliver the funeral eulogy on
Washington, in the course of winch the memora-
ble sentence, " First in war, first in peace, and
first in the hearts of his countrymen," occurs.

Lee remained in Congress until the accession
of Jefferson in 1801, after which he did not
again hold public office.

His profuse hospitality involved him in pecuni-
ary embarrassment, which, however disagreeable
to himself, proved advantageous to the public, as
during and probably in consequence of his •con-
finement as a debtor,* within the bounds of
Spottsylvania county, in 1809, he wrote his cele-
brated memoirs. They were published without
any preface in two octavo volumes, by Bradford
and Inskeep, Philadelphia. In July, 1812, while
in Baltimore, Lee took part in the defence of the
house occupied by Mr. Hanson, one of the editors
of the Federal Republican. This paper had
shortly before published strictures on the declara-
tion of war of June 19, and its office had in conse-
quence been attacked by a mob, who destroyed
the printing materials and building. The publi-
cation of the paper was soon after resumed in
Georgetown, and the numbers distributed from a
house in Baltimore. Anticipating an attack,
Hanson had provided arms and been joined by
General Greene, General Lingan, John How-
ard Payne, and others. The mob on the even-
ing of the 27th attempted to force the door.
Muskets were fired during the confusion, by
which two persons were killed and several
wounded. The military appeared, and the occu-
pants of the house surrendered on promise of
being protected within the city prison. On the
following night the prison was attacked by the
mob, who succeeded in effecting an entrance,
killed Lingan and wounded eleven others, among
whom was General Lee. Some of the rioters
were arrested, tried, and acquitted. In conse-
quence of the injuries thus received, the Gene-
ral's health declined. A visit to the West Indies
proved of no benefit to him, and he returned to
the United States in 1818, where he died on the
25th of March, at the residence of Mrs. Shaw,
the daughter of General Greene, Cumberland
Island, near St. Mary's, Georgia.

Lee's memoirs were reprinted in 1827 at Wa-h-

* A story is told, that, having been arrested for debt, as lie
•was riding along with the sheriff, he remarked, that he was
glad that lie was on his way to a place of confinement, since
having been bitten by a mad dog he needed to be taken care
of. Soon after this introduction of the subject, he assumed
such energetic symptoms of mania that the official made off ia
hot haste.— Allen's Biog. I)ic.

ington. The editor, H. Lee, in a brief preface,
acknowledged the assistance of friends in pro-
viding for the expenses of the edition. Such aid
should not have been needed, for the work, in ad-
dition to its historical value as the testimony of
a prominent actor, is valuable on account of' its
literary merit as a life-like and spirited narrative.
It is plain in style, and the want of dates renders
it somewhat inconvenient in the absence of an
index for reference.

One of the most valuable and interesting por-
tions of the book is the minute narrative of the gal-
lant attempt of Sergeant Champe to carry off Ar-
nold from New York, after the detection of his
treason, an object Washington was anxious to
accomplish, from a humane desire to save Andre.
Champe undertook the service at the request of
Lee, who overcame the sergeant's scruples to de-
sertion from the American army, a course essen-
tial to preserve secresy. He was instructed to
obtain possession of Arnold if possible, but under
no circumstances to take his life.

ciiampe's expedition.

Giving to the sergeant three guineas, and present-
ing his best wishes, Lee recommended him to start
without delay, and enjoined him to communicate his
arrival in New York as soon thereafter as might be
practicable. Champe pulling out his watch, com-
pared it with the major's, reminding the latter of
the importance of holding back pursuit, which iie
was convinced would take place in the course of the
night, and which might be fatal, as he knew that he
should be obliged to zigzag in order to avoid the
patrol'es, which would consume time. It was now
nearly eleven. The sergeant returned to camp, and
taking his clonk, valise and orderly book, he drew
his horse from the picket, and mounting him put
himself upon fortune. Lee, charmed with his expe-
ditious consummation of the first part of the enter-
prise, retired to rest. Useless attempt! the past
scene could not be obliterated ; and, indeed, had
that, been practicable, the interruption which ensued
would have stopped repose.

Within half an hour Captain Carnes, officer of
the day, waited upon the major, and with conside-
rable emotion told him that one of the pntrole had
fallen in with a dragoon, who, being challenged,
put spur to his horse and escaped, though instantly
pursued. Lee complaining of the interruption, and
pretending to be extremely fatigued b}- his ride to
and from headquarters, answered as if he did not
understand what had been said, which compelled the
captain to repeat it. Who can the fellow that was
pursued be ? inquired the major; adding, a coun-
tryman, probably. No, replied the captain, the pa-
trole sufficiently distinguished him as to know that
he was a dragoon ; probably one from the army, if
not certainly one of our own. This idea was ridi-
culed from its improbability, as during the whole
war but a single dragoon had deserted from the
legion. This did not convince Carnes, so much
stress was it now the fashion to lay on the desertion
of Arnold, and the probable effect of his example.
The captain withdrew to examine the squadron of
horse, whom he had ordered to assemble in pursu-
ance of established usage on similar occasions. Yery
quickly he returned, stating that the scoundrel was
known, and was no less a person than the sergeant-
major, who had gone off with his horse, baggage,
arms and orderly book — so presumed, as neither the
one nor the other could be found. Sensibly affected
at the supposed baseness of a soldier extremely re-

HENRY LEE.

411

spected, the captain added that he had ordered a
party to make ready for pursuit, and begged the
major's written orders.

Occasionally this discourse was interrupted, and
every idea suggested which the excellent character
of the sergeant warranted, to induce the suspicion
that he had not deserted, but had taken the liberty
to leave cam)) with a view to personal pleasure : an
example, said Lee, too often set by the officers them-
selves, destructive as it was of discipline, opposed
as it was to orders, and disastrous as it might prove
to the corps in the course of service.

Some little delay was thus interposed ; but it
being now announced that the pursuing party was
ready, major Lee directed a change in the officer,
saying that lie had a particular service in view,
Avhich he had determine I to entrust to the lieutenant
ready for duty, and which probably mus,t be per-
formed in the morning. He therefore directed him
to summon cornet Middleton for the present com-
mand. Lee was induced thus to act, first to add to
the delay, and next from his knowledge of the tender-
ness of Middletou's disposition, which he hoped
Would lead to the protection of Champe should he
be taken. Within ten minutes Middleton appeared
to receive his orders, which were delivered to him
made out in the customary form, and signed by the
major. " Pursue so far as you can with safety ser-
geant Champe, who is suspected of deserting to the
enemy, and has taken the road leading to Paulus
Hook. Bring him alive, that he may suffer in the
presence of the army ; but kill him if he resists, or
escapes after being taken."

Detaining the cornet a few minutes longer in ad-
vising him what course to pursue, — urging him to
take care of the horse and accoutrements, if reco-
vered,— and enjoining him to be on his guard, lest he
might, by his eager pursuit, improvideutly fall into
the hands of the enemy, — the major dismissed Mid-
dleton, wishing him success. A shower of rain fell
soon after Champc's departure, which enabled the
pursuing dragoons to take the trail of his horse ;
knowing, as officer and trooper did, the make of
their shoes, whose impression was an unerring
guide.*

When Middleton departed, it was a few minutes
past twelve ; so that Champe had only the start of
rather more than an hour, — by no means as long as
was desired. Lee became very unhappy, not only
because the estimable and gallant Champe might be
injured, but lest the enterprise might be delayed:
and he spent a sleepless night. The pursuing party
during the night, was, on their part, delayed by the
necessary halts to examine occasionally the road, as
the impression of the horse's shoes directed their
course ; this was unfortunately too evident, no other
horse having passed along the road since the shower.
When the day broke, Middleton was no longer
forced to halt, and he pressed on with rapidity. As-
cending an eminence before he reached the Three
Pidgeons, some miles on the north of the village of
Bergen, as the pursuing party reached its summit,
Champe was descried not more than half a mile in
front. Resembling an Indian in his vigilance, the
sergeant at the same moment discovered the party
(whose object he was no stranger to), and giving
spur to his horse, he determined to outstrip his pur-
suers. Middleton at the same instant put his horses
to the top of their speed ; and being (as the legion

*Tlio horses being all phod by our own farriers, the shoes
were nude in the same form ; which, with a private mark an-
nexed to the fore-shoes, and known to the troopers, pointed
out the trail of ouv dragoons to each other, which was often
very useful.

all were) well acquainted with the country, he
recollected a short route through the woods to the
bridge below Bergen, which, diverged from the great
road just after you gain the Three Pidgeons. Reach-
ing the point of separation, he halted; and dividing
his party, directed a sergeant with a few dragoons
to take the near cut, and possess with all possible
despatch the bridge, while he with the residue fol-
lowed Champe ; not doubting but that Champe
must deliver himself up,' as he would be closed be-
tween himself and his sergeant. Champe did not
forget the short cut, and would have taken it him-
self, but he knew it was the usual route of our par-
ties when returning in the day from the neighbor-
hood of the enemy, properly preferring the woods
to the road. He consequently avoided it ; and per-
suaded that Middleton would avail himself of it,
wisely resolved to relinquish his intention of getting
to Paulus Hook, and to seek refuge from two British
galleys, lying a few miles to the west of Bergen.

This was a station always occupied by one or two
galleys, and which it was known now lay there.
Entering the village of Bergen, Champe turned to
his right, and disguising his change of course as >
much as he could by taking the beaten streets, turn-
ing as they turned, he passed through the village
and took the road towards Elizabethtown Point.
Middleton's sergeant gained the bridge, where he
concealed himself, ready to pounce upon Champe
when he came up ; and Middleton, pursuing his
course through Bergen, soon got also to the bridge,
when, to his extreme mortification, he found that
the sergeant had slipped through his fingers. Re-
turning up the road, he inquired of the villagers of
Bergen, whether a dragoon had been seen that
morning preceding his party. He was answered in
the affirmative, but could learn nothing satisfactorily
as to the route he took. While engaged in inquiries
himself, he spread his party through the village to
strike the trail of Champe's horse, a resort always re-
curred to. Some of his dragoons hit it just as the
sergeant, leaving the village, got in the road to the
Point. Pursuit was renewed with vigor, and again
Champe was descried. lie, apprehending the event,
had prepared himself for it, by lashing his valise
(containing his clothes and orderly book) on his
shoulders, and holding his drawn sword in his hand,
having thrown away its scabbard. This he did to
save what was indispensable to him, and to prevent
any interruption to his swimming by the scabbard,
should Middleton, as he presumed, when disappointed
at the bridge, take the measures adopted by him.
The pursuit was rapid and close, as the sfop occa-
sioned by the sergeant's preparations for swimming
had brought Middleton within two or three hundred
yards. As soon as Champe got abreast of the gal-
leys, he dismounted, and running through the marsh
to the river, plunged into it, calling upon the gal-
leys for help. This was readily given; they fired
upon our horse, and sent a boat to meet Champe,
who was taken in and carried on board, and con-
veyed to New York with a letter from the captain
of the galley, stating the past scene, all of which he
had seen.

The horse with his equipments, the sergeant's
cloak and sword scabbard, were recovered; the
sword itself, being held by Champe until he plunged
into the river, was lost, as Middleton found it
necessary to retire without searching for it.

About three o'clock in the evening our party re-
turned, and the soldiers, seeing the horse (well
known to them) in our possession, made the air
resound with exclamations that the scoundrel was
killed.

Major Lee, called by this heart-rending annuncia-

412

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

tion from his tent, saw the sergeant's horse led by
one of Middleton's dragoons, and began to reproach
himself -with the blood of the high prized faithful and
intrepid Champe. Stifling his agony, lie advanced
to meet Middleton, and became somewhat relieved
as soon as he got near enough to discern the counte-
nance of his officer and party. There was evidence
in their looks of disappointment, and he was quickly
relieved by Middleton'sinformation that the sergeant
had effected his escape with the loss of his horse,
and narrated the particulars just recited.

Lee's joy was now as full as, the moment before,
his torture had been excruciating. Never was a
happier conclusion. The sergeant escaped unhurt,
carrying with him to the enemy undeniable testi-
mony of the sincerity of his desertion, — cancelling
every apprehension before entertained, lest the
enemy might suspect him of being what he really
was.

Major Lee imparted to the commander-in-chief
the occurrence, who was sensibly affected by the
hair-breadth escape of Champe, and anticipated
with pleasure the good effect sure to follow the ene-
my's knowledge of its manner.

On the fourth day after Champe's departure, Lee
received a letter from him, written the day before
in a disguised hand, without any signature, and
stating what had passed after he got on board the
galley, where he was kindly received.

He was carried to the commandant of New York
as soon as lie arrived, and presented the letter ad-
dressed to this officer from the captain of the galley.
Being asked as to what corps he belonged, and a
few other common questions, he was sent under care
of an orderly sergeant to the adjutant-general, who,
finding that he was sergeant-major of the legion
horse, heretofore remarkable for their fidelity, he
began to interrogate him. He was told by Champe,
that such was the spirit of defection which pre-
vailed among the American troops in consequence
of Arnold's example, that he had no doubt, if the
temper was properly cherished, Washington's ranks
would not only be greatly thinned, but that some
of his best corps would leave him. To this conclu-
sion, the sergeant said, he was led by his own obser-
vations, and especially by his knowledge of the dis-
contents which agitated the corps to which he had
belonged. His size, place of birth, his form, coun-
tenance, color of his hair, the corps in which he had
served, with other remarks, in conformity to the
British usage, was noted in a large folio book. Af-
ter this was finished, he was sent to the commander-
in-chief, in charge of one of the staff, with a letter
from the adjutant-general Sir Henry Clinton
treated him very kindly, and detained him more
than one hour, asking him many questions, all lead-
ing,— first to know to what extent this spirit of de-
fection might be pushed by proper incitements, —
what the most operating incitements, — whether any
general officers were suspected by Washington as
concerned in Arnold's conspiracy, or any other offi-
cers of note ; — who they were, and whether the
troops approved or censured Washington's suspi-
cions ; — whether his popularity in the army was
sinking, or continued stationary. What was major
Andre's situation, — whether any change had taken
place in the manner of his confinement, — what was the
current opinion of his probable fate, — and whether
it was thought Washington would treat him as a spy.
To these various interrogations, some of which were
perplexing, Champe answered warily; exciting,
nevertheless, hopes that the adoption of proper
measures to encourage desertion (of which he could
not pretend to form an opinion) would certainly
bring off hundreds of the American soldiers, in-

cluding some of the best troops, horse as well as
foot. Respecting the fate of Andre, he said he was
ignorant, though there appeared to be a general wish
in the army that his life should not be taken ; and
that he believed it would depend more upon the
disposition of Congress, than on the will of Wash-
ington.

After this long conversation ended, sir Henry pre-
sented Champe with a couple of guineas, and recom-
mended him to wait upon general Arnold, who was
engaged in raising an American legion in the service
of his majesty. He directed one of his aids to
write to Arnold by Champe, stating who he was,
and what he had said about the disposition in the
army to follow his example ; which very soon done,
it was given to the orderly attending on Champe to
be presented with the deserter to general Arnold.
Arnold expressed much satisfaction on hearing from
Champe the manner of his escape, and the effect of
Arnold's example ; and concluded his numerous
inquiries by assigning quarters to the sergeant, — ■
the same as were occupied by his recruiting ser-
geants.

He also proposed to Champe to join his legion,
telling him he would give to him the same station
he had held in the rebel service, and promising fur-
ther advancement when merited. Expressing his
wish to retire from war, and his conviction of ttie
certainty of his being hung if ever taken by the
rebels, he begged to be excused from enlistment;
assuring the general, that should he change his
mind, he would certainly accept his offer. Retiring
to the assigned quarters, Champe now turned his
attention to the delivery of his letters, which he
could not effect until the next night, and then only
to one of the two incognita to whom he was recom-
mended. This man received the sergeant with ex-
treme attention, and having read the letter, assured
Champe that he might rely on his faithful co-opera-
tion in doing everything in his power consistent
with his safety, to guard which required the utmost
prudence and circumspection. The sole object in
which the aid of this individual was required, re-
garded the general and others of our army, implicat-
ed in the information sent to Washington by him.
To this object Champe urged his attention ; assuring
him of the solicitude it had excited, and telling him
that its speedy investigation had induced the general
to send him into Kew York. Promising to enter
upon it with zeal, and engaging to send out Champe's
letters to major Lee, he fixed the time and place for
their next meeting, when they separated.

Lee made known to the general what had been
transmitted to him by Champe, and received in an-
swer directions to press Champe to the expeditious
conclusion of his mission ; as the fate of Andre
would be soon decided, when little or no delay could
be admitted in executing whatever sentence the
court might decree. The same messenger who
brought Champe's letter, returned with the ordered
communication. Five days had nearly elapsed after
reaching New York, before Champe saw the con-
fidant to whom only the attempt against Arnold was
to be entrusted. This person entered with promp-
titude into the design, promising his cordial assist-
ance. To procure a proper associate to Champe was
the first object, and this he promised to do with all
possible despatch. Furnishing a conveyance to Lee,
we again heard from Champe, who stated what I
have related, with the additional intelligence that
he had that morning (the last of September) been
appointed one of Arnold's recruiting sergeants, hav-
ing enlisted the day before with Arnold; and that
he was induced to take this afflicting step, for the
purpose of securing uninterrupted ingress and egress

HENRY LEE.

413

to the liop.se which the general occupied; it being
indispensable to a speedy conclusion of the difficult
enterprise which the information he had just received
had so forcibly urged. He added, that the difficul-
ties in his way were numerous and stubborn, and
that his prospect of success was by no means cheer-
ing. ■ With respect to the additional treason, he as-
serted that he had every reason to believe that it
was groundless; that the report took its rise in the
enemy's camp, and that he hoped soon to clear up
that matter satisfactorily. The pleasure which the
last part of this communication afforded, was damped
by the tidings it imparted respecting Arnold, as on
his speedy delivery depended Andre's relief. The
interposition of sir Henry Clinton, who was ex-
tremely anxious to save his much loved aid-de-camp,
still continued ; and it was expected the examination
of witnesses and the defence of the prisoner, would
protract the decision of the court of inquiry, now
assembled, and give sufficient time for the consum-
mation of the project committed to Ghampe. A
complete disappointment took place from a quarter
unforeseen and unexpected. The honorable and
accomplished Andre, knowing his guilt, disdained
defence, and prevented the examination of witnesses
by confessing the character in which he stood. On
the next day (the 2d of October) the court again
assembled ; when every doubt that could possibly
arise in the case having been removed by the pre-
vious confession, Andre was declared to be a spy,
and condemned to suffer accordingly.

The sentence was executed on the subsequent day
in the usual form, the commander-in-chief deeming
it improper to interpose any delay. In this decision
he was warranted by the very unpromising intelli-
gence received from Chatnpe, — by the still existing
implication of other officers in Arnold's conspiracy,
— by a due regard to public opinion, — and by real
tenderness to the condemned.

Neither Congress nor the nation could have been
with propriety informed of the cause of the delay,
and without such information it must have excited
ill both alarm and suspicion. Andre himself could
not have been entrusted with the secret, and would
consequently have attributed the unlooked-for event
to the expostulation and exertion of sir Henry Clin-
ton, which would not fail to produce in his breast
expectations of ultimate relief; to excite which
would have been cruel, as the realization of such
expectation depended upon a possible but improba-
ble contingency. The fate of Andre, hastened by him-
self, deprived the enterprise committed to Champe
of a feature which had been highly prized by its
projector, and which had very much engaged the
heart of the individual chosen to execute it.

Washington ordered major Lee to communicate
what had passed to the sergeant, with directions to
encourage him to prosecute with unrelaxed vigor
the remaining objects of his instructions, but to
intermit haste in the execution only as far as was
compatible with final success.

This was accordingly done by the first opportu-
nity, in the manner directed. Champe deplored the
sad necessity which occurred, and candidly confessed
that the hope of enabling Washington to save the
life of Andre (who had been the subject of universal
commiseration in the American camp) greatly con-
tributed to remove the serious difficulties which op-
posed his acceding to the proposition when first pro-
pounded. Some documents accompanied this com-
munication, tending to prove the innocence of the
accused general; they were completely satisfactory,
and did credit to the discrimination, zeal and dili-
gence of the sergeant. Lee inclosed them immedi-
ately to the commander-in-chief, who was pleased to

express the satisfaction he derived from the informa-
tion, and to order the major to wait upon him the
next day; when the whole subject was re-examined;
and the distrust heretofore entertained of the accused
was for ever dismissed. Nothing now remained to
be done, but the seizure and safe delivery of Arnold.
To this object Champe gave his undivided attention :
and on the 19th October major Lee received from
him a very particular account of the progress he
had made, with the outlines of his plan. This was,
without delay, submitted to Washington; with a
request for a few additional guineas. The general's
letter, written 0:1 the same day (20th October),
evinces his attention to the minutire of business, as
well as his immutable determination to possess Ar-
nold alive, or not at all. This was his original in-
junction, which he never omitted to enforce upon
every proper occasion.

Major Lee had an opportunity in the course of the
week of writing to Champe, when he told him that
the rewards which he had promised to his associates
would be certainly paid on the delivery of Arnold ;
and in tiie meantime, small sums of money would be
furnished for casual expenses, it being deemed im-
proper that he should appear with much, lest it
might lead to suspicion and detection. That five
guineas were, now sent, and that more would follow
when absolutely necessary.

Ten days elapsed before Champe brought his mea-
sures to conclusion, when Lee received from him his
final communication, appointing the third subsequent
night for a party of dragoons to meet him at Hobo-
ken, when he hoped to deliver Arnold to the officer.
Champe had, from his enlistment into the Ameri-
can legion (Arnold's corps), every opportunity he
could wish, to attend to the habits of the general.
He discovered that it was his custom to return home
about twelve every night, and that previous to
going to bed he always visited the garden. During
this visit the conspirators were to seize him, and
being prepared with a gag, intended to have applied
the same instantly.

Adjoining the house in which Arnold resided, and
in which it was designed to seize and gag him,
Champe had taken off several of the palings and
replaced them, so that with care and without noise
he could readily open his way to the adjoining alley.
Into this alley he meant to have conveyed his pri-
soner, aided by his companion, one of two associates
who had been introduced by the friend to whom
Champe had been originally made known by letter
from the commander-in-chief, and with whose aid
and counsel he had so far conducted the enterprise.
His other associate was with the boat prepared at
one of the wharves on the Hudson river, to receive
the party.

Champe and his friend intended to have placed
themselves each under Arnold's shoulder, and to
have thus borne him through the most unfrequented
alleys and streets to the boat ; representing Arnold,
in ease of being questioned, as a drunken soldier
whom they were conveying to the guard-house.

When arrived at the boat the difficulties would be
all surmounted, there being no danger nor obstacle
in passing to the Jersey shore. These particulars, as
soon as known to Lee, were communicated to the
commander-in-chief, who was highly gratified with
the much desired intelligence. He directed major
Lee to meet Champe, and to take care that Arnold
should not be hurt. The day arrived, and Lee with
a party of dragoons left camp late in the evening,
with three led accoutred horses ; one for Arnold,
one for the sergeant, and the third for his associate,
never doubting the success of the enterprise, from
the tenor of the last received communication. The

414

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

party reached Hoboken about midnight, where they
were concealed in the adjoining wood, — Lee with
three dragoons stationing himself near the river
shore. Hour after hour passed — no boat approached.
At length the day broke and the major retired to
his party, and with his led horses returned to camp,
when he proceeded to headquarters to inform the
general of the much lamented disappointment, as
mortifying as inexplicable. Washington having pe-
rused Charnpe's plan and communication, had in-
dulged the presumption that at length the object
of his keen and constant pursuit was sure of execu-
tion, and did not dissemble the joy such conviction
produced. He was chagrined at the issue, and ap-
prehended that his faithful sergeant must have been
detected in the last scene of his tedious and difficult
enterprise.

In a few days, Lee received an anonymous letter
from Charnpe's patron and friend, informing him
that on the day preceding the night fixed for the
execution of the plot, Arnold had removed his quar-
ters to another part of the town, to superintend the
embarkation of troops, preparing (as was rumored)
for an expedition to be directed by himself; and
that the American legion, consisting chiefly of Ame-
rican deserters, had been transferred from their bar-
racks to one of the transports ; it being apprehended
that if left on shore until the expedition was ready,
many of them might desert. Thus it happened that
John Champe, instead of crossing the Hudson that
night, was safely deposited on board one of the fleet
of transports, from whence he never departed until
the troops under Arnold landed in Virginia! Nor
was he able to escape from the British army until
after the junction of lord Cornwallis at Petersburg,
when he deserted ; and proceeding high up into
Virginia he passed into North Carolina near the
Saura towns, and keeping in the friendly districts
of that state, safely joined the army soon after it
had passed the Congaree in pursuit of Lord Raw-
don.

His appearance excited extreme surprise among
his former comrades, which was not a little increased
when they saw the cordial reception he met with
from the late major, now lieutenant-colonel Lee.
His whole story soon became known to the corps,
which reproduced the love and respect of officer and
soldier (heretofore invariably entertained for the
sergeant), heightened by universal admiration of his
late daring and arduous attempt.

Champe was introduced to general Greene, who
very cheerfully complied with the promises made
by the commander-in-chief, as far as in his power ;
and having provided the sergeant with a good horse
and money for his journey, sent him to general
Washington, who munificently anticipated every
desire of the sergeant and presented him with his
discharge from further service,* lest he might, in
the vicissitudes of war, fall into the enemy's hands ;
when, if recognised, he was sure to die on a gibbet.

FROM THE FUNERAL ORATION ON TITE DEATH OF GEN. WASHING-
TON, DELIVERED AT THE REQUEST OF CONGRESS.

How, my fellow-citizens, shall I single to your
grateful hearts his pre-eminent worth! Where
sliall I begin in opening to your view a character
throughout sublime ? Shall I speak of his warlike

* When General "Washington was called by President Adams
to the command of the army, prepared to defend the conntry
from French hostility, he sent to Lieutenant-colonel Lee to in-
quire for Champe; being determined to bring him into the
field at the head of a company of infantry.

Lee sent to Loudon county, where Champe settled after his
discharge from the army ; when he learned that the gallant
soldier had removed to Kentucky, where he soon after died.

achievements, all springing from obedience to his
country's will — all directed to his country's good?

Will you go with me to the banks of the Monon-
gahela, to see our youthful Washington supporting,
in the dismal hour of Indian victory, the ill-fated
Br.iddock, and saving, by his judgment and his valour,
the remains of a defeated army, pressed by the con-
quering savage foe ? Or, when oppressed America,
nobly resolving to risk her all in defence of her
violated rights, he was elevated by the unanimous
voice of Congress to the command of her armies?
Will you follow him to the high grounds of Boston,
where, to an undisciplined, courageous, and virtuous
yeomanry, his presence gave the stability of system,
and infused the invincibility of love of country?
Or shall I carry you to the painful scenes of Long
Island, York Island, and New Jersey, when, com-
bating superior and gallant armies, aided by power-
ful fleets, and led by chiefs high in the roll of fame,
he stood the bulwark of our safety, undismayed by
disasters, unchanged by change of fortune? Or will
you view him in the precarious fields of Trenton,
where deep gloom, unnerving every arm, reigned
triumphant through our thinned, worn down, un-
aided ranks, himself unmoved. Dreadful was the
night. It was about this time of winter — the storm
raged — the Delaware rolling furiously with floating
ice, forbade the approach of man. Washington,
self-collected, viewed the tremendous scene. His
country called; unappalled by surrounding dangers,
he passed to the hostile shore; he fought, he con-
quered. The morning sun cheered the American
world. Our country rose on the event, and her
dauntless chief pursuing his blow, completed, in the
lawns of Princeton, what his vast soul had con-
ceived on the shores of the Delaware.

Thence to the strong grounds of Morristown, he
led his small but gallant band; and through an
eventful winter, by the high effort of his genius,
whose matchless force was mensurable only by the
growth of difficulties, he held in check formidable
hostile legions, conducted by a chief experienced in
the arts of war, and famed for his valour on the
ever memorable heights of Abraham, where fell
Wolfe, Montcalm, and since, our much lamented
Montgomery, all covered with glory. In this fortu-
nate interval, produced by his masterly conduct, our
fathers, ourselves, animated by. his restless example,
rallied around our country's standard, and continued
to follow her beloved chief through the various
and trying scenes to which the destinies of our union
led.

Who is there that has forgotten the vales of
Brandywine — the fields of Germantown — or the
plains of Monmouth? Everywhere present, wants
of every kind obstructing, numerous and valiant
armies encountering, himself a host, he assuaged our
sufferings, limited our privations, and upheld our
tottering Republic. Shall I display to you the
spread of the fire of his soul, by rehearsing the
praises of the Hero of Saratoga, and his much-loved
compeer of the Carolinas? No ; our Washington
wears not borrowed glory. To Gates — to Greene,
he gave without reserve the applause due to their
eminent merit ; and long may the chiefs of Saratoga
and of Eutaw receive the grateful respect of a grate-
ful people.

Moving in his own orbit, he imparted heat and
light to his most distant satellites ; and combining
the physical and moral force of all within his
sphere, with irresistible weight he took his course,
commiserating folly, disdaining vice, dismaying
treason, and invigorating despondency ; until the
auspicious hour arrived, when, united with the
intrepid forces of a potent and magnanimous ally,

ROYAL TYLER.

415

he brought to submission the since conqueror of
India ; tlms finishing his long career of military
glory with a lustre corresponding to his great name,
and in this his last act of war, affixing the seal of
fate to our nations birth.

*****

First in war, kirst in peace, and first in toe

HEARTS OF HIS COUNTRYMEN, lie WUS Second lo IlOlie

in the humble and endearing scenes of private life.
Pious, just, humane, temperate, and sincere urn
form, dignified, and commanding, his example was
edifying to all around linn, as were the effects ol lliat
example lasting.

To his equals he was condescending ; lo his in
feriors kind ; and to the dear object of his affections
exeniplarily tender. Correct throughout, vice shud-
dered in his presence, and virtue always felt his
fostering hand, the purity of his private character
gave effulgence to his public virtues.

His last scene comported with the whole tenor of
his life. Although in extreme pain, not a sigh, not
a groan escaped him ; and with undisturbed serenity
he closed his well-spent life. Such was the man
America has lost ! Such was the man for whom our
nation mourns 1

EOTAL TYLER

Was a wit, a poet, and a Chief Justice. His life
certainly deserves to be narrated with more par-
ticularity than it has yet received. His writings,
too, should be collected and placed in an accessi-
ble form. American literature cannot be charged
with poverty while it has such valuables unin-
vested in its forgotten repositories.

Eoyal Tyler was born in Boston, in the neigh-
borhood of Faneuil Hall, about the year 1756. He
was a Harvard graduate of the class of 1776;
studied law in that school of patriotism, the office
of John Adams, and was for a short tune aide-de-
camp to General Lincoln, lie served in the same
capacity in t lie suppression of Shay's rebellion in
1786; and was employed in some negotiations
connected with that affair in a visit to New York,
where a comedy which lie had written during his
military service was produced on the stage. It
was entitled The Contrast, and has the distinc-
tion of being the first stage production in which
the Yankee dialect and story telling, since so fa-
miliar in the parts written for Hacked;, Hill, and
others, was employed. It was more than that;
it was the first American play which was ever
acted on a regular stage by an established compa-
ny of comedians. It was played at the old John
Street Theatre in New York, under the manage-
ment of Ilallam and Henry, April 16, 1786.* Its
success was such as to induce the author to pro-
duce a second, entitled May Day, or New York
in an Uproar, for the benefit of the actor Wig-
nell in the May following.

The Country Jonathan, in the Contrast, on a
visit to town, drops into the theatre with the ex-
pectation of seeing '• ahocuspocus man," and sits
out a performance of the School for Scandal with-
out any notion that he has visited a playhouse.
On being asked if he saw the man with his tricks — ■
" Why I vow," says he, " as I was looking out
for him, they lifted up a great green cloth, and let
us look right into the next neighbor's house."

* He gavo the copyright to the principal actor in the piece,
Vignell, who published it by subscription.

" Have you a good many houses in New York
made in that ere way V he asks, and is told not
many, a but did you see the family? Well, and
how did you like them V " Why, I vow, they
were pretty mucli like other families ; — there was
a poor good-natured curse of a husband, and a sad
rantipole of a wife." At the close, he asks for his
money, as be has not had the show : — " the dogs
a bit of a sight have I seen, unless you call listen-
ing to people's private business a sight."*

Tyler not long after gained considerable repu-
tation by his contributions to that very pleasant
newspaper and miscellany, one of the very best of
its kind ever published in this country, the Far-
mer's Weekly Museum, published at Walpole in
New Hampshire, by Isaiah Thomas and David
Carlisle. When Dennie became its editor, Tyler
was called in to assist him with his contributions
from the shop of Messrs. Colon and Spondee, an
amusing melange of light verse and entertaining
social and political squibs, which he had already
opened in the journals, the Eagle, at Hanover, the
Federal Orrery at Boston, and the Tablet. Tyler
thus announced the project in a parody of the
advertisements of the "Universal Stores" of those
days.

VARIETY STORE.

to the LITERATI.
Mess. COLON & SPONDEE

WHOLESALE DEALERS IN

VERSE PROSE and MUSIC,

Beg leave to inform the public

and the learned in particular, that

— previous to the ensuing

COMMENCEMENT—

They purpose to open a fresh Assortment of
Lcxograpluc, Bur'gursdician, th Parnassian

GOODS,

SUITABLE FOR THE SEASON,

_At the Room on the Plain, f lately occupied

by Mr. Frcderic Wiser, Tonsor,

if it can be procured

Where they will expose to Sale

OALUTATORY and Valedictory Orations, Syllo-
^ gistic and Forensic Disputations and Dialogues
among the living and the dead — Theses and Masters,
Questions, Latin, Greek, Hebrew, Syriac, Arabic and
the ancient Coptic, neatly modified into Dialogues,
Orations <fcc. on the shortest notice — with Disserta-
tions on the Targum and Talmud, and Collations
after the manner of Kennicott — Hebrew roots and
other simples — Dead Languages for living Drones —
Oriental Languages with or without points, prefixes,
or suffixes — Attic, Doric, Ionic, and jEolic Dialects,
with the Wabash, Onondaga, and Mohawk Guttur-
als— Synakephas, Elisions, and Ellipses of the newest
cut — v's added and dove-tailed to their vowels, witli
a small assortment of the genuine Peloponnesian Na-
sal Twangs — -Classic Compliments adapted to all
dignities, with superlatives in o, and gerunds in di,
gratia — Monologues, Dialogues, Trialogues, Tetra-
logues, and so on from one to twenty logues.

Anagrams, Acrostics, Anacreontics; Chro-
nograms, Epigrams, Hudibrastics, & Panegyrics ;

* Dunlap's History of tho American Theatre, pp. T2-3.
t At Hanover, N. H.

410

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Rebusses, Charades, Puns, and Conundrums, by the
gross or single dozen. Sonnets, Elegies, Epithalami-
ums ; Bucolics, Georgies, Pastorals ; Epic Poems,
Dedications, and Adulatory Prefaces, in verse and
prose.

Ether, Mist, Sleet, Rain, Snow, Lightning,
and Thunder, prepared and personified, after the
manner of Delia Crusca, will) a quantity of Brown.
Horror, Blue Fear and Child Begetting Love, from
the same Manufactory; with a pleasing variety of
high-colored, Compound Epithets, well assorted

Farragoes", aud other Bruuoniau Opiates —

Anti-Institutes, or the new and concise patent mode
of applying forty letters to the spelling of a monosyl-
lable— Love Letters by the Ream — Summary Argu-
ments, both Merry and Serious — Sermons, moral, oc-
casional, or polemical — Sermons for Texts, and Texts
for Sermons — Old Orations scoured, Forensics fur-
bished, Blunt Epigrams newly pointed, and cold
Conferences hashed ; with Extemporaneous Prayers
corrected and amended — Alliterations artfully allied
— and periods polished to perfection.

Aims, Canons, Catches, and Cantatas —
Fuges, Overtures, and Symphonies for any number

of Instruments ■ Serenades for Nocturnal Lovers

— with Rrjse Trees full blown, and Black Jokes of all

colours Aniens and Hallelujahs, trilled, quavered,

and slurred with Couplets, Syncopations, Minims

and Crotchet Rests, for female voices and Solos

"with three parts, for hand organs.

Classic College Bows, clear starched,
lately imported from Cambridge, and now used by
all the topping scientific connoisseurs, in hair and
wigs, in this country.

Adventures, Paragraphs, Letters from
Correspondents, Country Seats for Rural Members
of Congress, provided for Editors of Newspapers—
with Accidental Deaths,' Battles, Bloody Murders,
Premature News, Tempests, Thunder and Lightning,
and Hail-Stones, of all dimensions, adapted to the
Season.

Circles Squared, and Mathematical points
divided into quarters, and half shares ; and jointed
Assymptotes, which will meet at any given distance.

Syllogisms in Bocardo, and Baralipton ;
Serious Cautions against Drunkenness, &c, and other
coarse Wrapping-Paper, gratis, to those who buy the
smallest article.

On hand a few Tierces of Attic Salt- Also,

Cash, and the highest price, given f 'or Raw Wit, for the
use of the Manufactory, or taken in exchange for the
above Articles.

Tyler also published a series of papers with the
title, An Author's Evenings, in the Port Folio for
1801, and subsequently. A liberal collection of
these papers is included in a volume published by
Thomas and Thomas tit Walpole in 1801, enti-
tled The Spirit of the Farmer's Museum, an/1 Lay
Preacher's Gazette. Tyler was at that time an
attorney in Guilford, Vermont. His facility in
verse in these compositions was remarkable.
He had great command of versification aud an
abundant fund of impromptu humor. His "Colon
and Spondee" articles are divided between Fede-
ral politics, attacks on French democracy, the
Delia Cruscan literature, and the fashionable fri-
volities of the day. The paragraphs in prose
show the author's wit, taste in literature, and
strongly marked opinions of the federal school
in politics.

In 1797, he wrote a comedy in three acts, The

Georgia Spec, or Land in the Moon, in ridicule
of a speculating mama for wild Yazoo lands.
It was repeatedly performed in Boston with suc-
cess. He wrote some other dramatic produc-
tions, but none of them have been published.

In 1797 appeared from the press of David Car-
lisle, at Walpole, in two volumes, his Algerine
Captive; or the Life and Adventures of Doctor
UpdAke Underhill : six years a prisoner among
the Algerines. It is dedicated to the poet Hum-
phreys. This work is said to have been mistaken
by an English critic for a narrative of actual ad-
venture. It is a fictitious book of memoirs, in
which the author ventilates his opinions on vari-
ous topics of American society, paints the hor-
rors of the slave trade and the now almost
incomprehensible grievances which the European
and American powers for a long time endured
from the assumptions of the Algerines. In the
close of the work there are some sketches of Ma-
hometanism. The book is written in short chap-
ters with spirit and neatness of style. There is
quite enough ingenuity in the thought, coupled
with the descriptions of the manners of the times,
to redeem this work from the neglect into which
it has fallen. Though printed in at least a second
American edition, it is now eN'ceedingly scaroe.

In 17U9, he composed a Fourth of July ode for
the public celebration of the day at Windsor,
Vermont, and a convivial song for the same oc-
casion. He was frequently called upon for these
services, and for the occasional prologues in vogue
at charitable and other theatrical benefits.

The Fourth of July ode is fluent, but not over
vigorous. A stanza will show its sentiment for
the times : —

When haughty Britons strove in vain
To bind our land with slavery's chain,
Our fathers drew their warlike swords.
Our fathers drew their warlike swords.

Immortal fields of Bennington,

Attest the laurels which they won.

Now faithless France, with impious hand,
Strikes at the glory of our land —
To arms ! to arms ! each hardy son,
And earn the fame your sires have won.

The Convivial Song in the evening has more
spirit in it — ■

Here's Washington, the brave, boys,

Source of all Columbia's joys,
Here's Washington, the brave, boys,
Come rise and toast him standing :
For he's the hero firm and brave,
Who all our country's glory gave,
And once again he shall us save,
Our armies bold commanding.

Here's to our native land, boys,

Land of liberty and joys,
Here's to our native land, boys,
Your glasses raise for drinking;

And he that will no*t drink this toast,
May he in France of freedom boast,
There dangling on a lantern post,
Or in the Rhone be sinking.

In 1804 we notice Tyler as a contributor of
verses to the Columbian Cerdinel.

In 1800, and for several successive years, he
was elected by the Legislature of Vermont Chief
Justice of the Superior Court. In 1809 he pub-
lished two volumes of Reports of Cases in the

ROYAL TYLER.

417

Supreme Court of Vermont. He still continued
to write for the journals, in the Port Folio, and
other quarters. Some of his latest productions
appeared in the New England Galaxy.

In 1806 he was a contributor to Buckingham's
monthly periodical, The Polyanthus, of the
papers entitled "Trash," and a number of fugi-
tive poetical pieces, and again on the revival of
the publication in 1812.*

The last portion of this life of literary gaiety
was melancholy. Judge Tyler died at Brattleboro',
Vermont, Angust 16, 1826, having suffered for
several years from a cancer in the face.t

FROM THE 6nOP OF MESSRS. COLON AND SPONDEE.

Address to Della Crusca, hunihly attempted in tlie sullimd
style of that fashionable author.

O thou, who, with thy blue cerulean blaze,
Hast circled Europe's brow with lovelorn praise;
Whose magic pea its gelid lightning throws,
Is now a sunbeam, now a fragrant rose.
Child of the dappl'd spring, whose green delight,
Drinks, with her snowdrop lips, the dewy light.
Son of the summer's bland, prolific rays,
Who sheds her loftiest treasures in thy lays ;
Who swells her golden lips to trump thy name,
Which sinks to whispers, at thy azure fame.
Brown autumn nurs'd thee with her dulcet dews,
And lurid winter rock'd thy cradled muse.
Seasons and suns, and spangl'd systems roll,
Like atoms vast, beneath thy " cloud capt" souL
Time wings its panting flight in hurried chase,
But sinks in dew dropt languor in the immortal
race.
0 thou, whose soul the nooky Britain scorns ;
Whose white cliffs tremble, when thy genius storms.
The sallow Afrie, with her curl'd domains,
And purpled Asia with her muslin plains,
And surgy Europe — vain — thy soul confiu'd
Which rills all space — and e'en Matilda's mlnd 1
Anna's capacious mind, which all agree,
Contain' d a wilderness of words in thee.
More happy thou than Macedonia's Lord,
Who wept for \vorld3 to feed his famish'd sword,
Fatigu'd by attic conquest of the old,
Fortune to thee a novel world unfolds.
Come, mighty conqueror, thy foes disperse;
Let loose " thy epithets," those dogs op verse ;
Draw forth thy gorgeous sword of da-.nask'd rhyme,
And ride triumphant through Columbia's clime,
Till sober lettered sense shall dying smile,
Before the mighty magic of thy style.
What tawny tribes in dusky forest wait,
To grace the ovation of thy victor state.
What oeher'd chiefs, vcrmillion'd by thy sword,
Mark'd by thy epithets, shall own thee lord.
The punie Creek, and nigrilied Choctaw,
The high bo 1'd Wabash, and bland hanging Maw;
Great Little Billy, PiamingO brave,
With pity's dew drops wet M'Gilvery's grave.
What sonorous streams meander through thy lays.
What lakes shall bless thy rich bequest of praise,
Rough Hockhocking, and gentle Chicago,
The twin Miamis — placid Scioto.
How will Ohio roll his lordly stream,
What blue mists dance upon the liquid scene,
Gods! how sublime shall Delia Crusea range,
When all Niagara cataracts tiiy page.
What arts? What arms? Unknown to thee belong?
What ruddy scalps shall deck thy sanguia'd song ?

* Buckingham's Personal Memoirs, i. DG, 50.

J Uaclunjcham's Specimens of Newspaper Literature. Kct-
tell's Specimens.
VOL. 1. — 2 7

What fumy cal'mets scent the ambient air,
What lovelorn Warhoops, CAPITALS declare
Cerulean tomahawks shall grace each line,
And blue ey'd wampum glisten through thy rhyme,
Rise, Delia Crusea, prince of bards sublime,
And pour on us whole cataracts of rhyme.
Son of the sun, arise, whose brightest rays,
All merge to tapers in thy ignite blaze.
Like some colossus, stride the Atlantic o'er,
A leg of genius place on either shore,
Extend thy red right arm to either wmrld ;
Be the proud standard of thy style unfurl'd ;
Proclaim thy sounding page, from shore to shore,
And swear that sense in verse, shall be no more.

Della Yankee.

from the shop of messrs. colon and 8p0ndee.
Spondee's Mistresses.
I.
Let Cowley soft in am'rous verse
The rovings of his love rehearse,

With passion most unruly,
Boast how he woo'd sweet Amoret,
The sobbing Jane, and sprightly Bet,
The lily fair and smart brunette,
In sweet succession truly.

n.
But list, ye lovers, and you'll swear,
I rov'd with him beyond compare,

And was far more unlucky.
For never yet in Yankee coast
Were found such girls, wdio so could boast.
An honest lover's heart to roast,

From Casco to Kentucky.

m.
When first the girls nicknam'd me beau,
■ And I was all for dress and show,
I set me out a courting.
A romping Miss, with heedless art,
First caught, then almost broke, my heart,
Miss Conduct nam'd, we soon did part,
I did not like such sporting.

IV.

The next coquet, who rais'd a flame,
Was far more grave, and somewhat lame

She in my heart did rankle.
She conquer'd, with a sudden glance,
The spiteful slut was called Mrss Chance ;
I took the gypsy out to dance ;

She almost broke my ankle.

v.
A thoughtless girl, just in her teens,
Was the next fair, whom Love it seems

Had made me prize most highly,
I thought to court a lovely mate,
But, how it made my heart to ache,
It was that jade, the vile Miss Take;

In troth, Love did it slyly.

VI.

And last, Miss Fortune, whimpering, came,
Cur'd me of Love's tormenting flame,

And all my beau pretences.
In Widow's Weeds, the prude appears ;
See now — she drowns me with her tears,
With bony fist, now slaps my ears,

And brings me to my senses.

FROM TnE SHOP OF MESSRS. COLON AND SPONDEE.

Ode composed for the Fourth of July, calculated for the meri-
dian of some country towns in Massachusetts, and Iiyo
in New Hampshire.

Squeak the fife, and beat the drum,
Independence day is come I 1

418

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN" LITERATURE.

Let the roasting pig be bled.

Quick twist off the cockerel's head.

Quickly rub the pewter platter,

Heap the uutcakes fried in butter.

Set the cups, and beaker glass,

The pumpkin, and the apple sauce,

Send the keg to shop for brandy ;

Maple sugar we have handy,

Independent, staggering Dick,

A noggin mix of swinging thick,

Sal, put on your russel skirt,

Jotham, get your boughten shirt,

To day we dance to tiddle diddle.

— Here comes Sambo with his fiddle ;

Sambo, take a dram of whisky,

And piny up Yankee doodle frisky.

Moll, come leave your witched tricks.

And let us have a reel of six.

Father and mother shall mr.ke two ;

Sail, Moll and I stand all a row,

Sambo, play and dance with quality ;

This is the day of blest Equality.

Father and mother are but men,

.And Sambo — is a Citizen,

Come foot it, Sal — Moll, figure in,

And mother, you dance up to him ;

How saw as fast as e'er you can do,

And Father, you cross o'er to Sambo.

— Thus we dance, and thus we play,

On glorious Independent day. —

Rub more rosin on your bow,

And let us have another go.

Zounds, as sure as eggs and bacon,

Here's ensign Sneak, and uncle Deacon,

Aunt Thiah, and their Bets behind her

On blundering mare, than beetle blinder.

And there's the 'Squire too with his lady —

Sal, hold the beast, I'll take the baby.

Moll, bring the 'Squire our great arm chair,

Good folks, we're glad to see you here.

Jotham, get the great case bottle,

Your teeth can pull its corn cob stopple.

Ensign, — Deacon, never mind ;

Squire, drink until you're blind ;

Come, here's the French — and Guillotine,

And here is good 'Squire Gallatin,

And here's each noisy Jacobin.

Here's friend Madison so hearty,

And here's confusion to the treaty.

Come, one more swig to southern Demos

Who represent our brother negroes.

Thus we drink and dance away,

This glorious IndependentDay!

LOVE AND LIBERTY.

In briery dell or thicket brown,

On mountain high, in lowly vale,
Or where the thistle sheds its down,

And sweet fern scents the passing gale.
There hop the birds from bush to tree ;
Love fills their throats,
Love swells their note3,
Their song is love and liberty.
No parent birds their love direct;

Each seeks his fair in plumy throng;
Caught by the lustre of her neck,

Or kindred softness of her song.
They sing and bill from bush to tree;
Love fills their throats,
Love swells their notes,
Their song is love and liberty.
Some airy songster's feathered shape,

O! could my love and I assume —
The ring-dove's glossy neck he take,

And I the modest turtle's plume ;

0 then we'd sing from bush to tree :

Love fill our throats,

Love swell our notes,
Our song be love and liberty.

TEE AUTHOR KEEPETH A COUNTRY SCHOOL: THE ANTICIPA-
TIONS, PLEASURES, AND PROFITS OF A PEDAGOGUE.*

Delightful task [ to rear tbe tender thought,
To teach the young idea how to shoot.
To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind,
To breathe th' entivning tpirit, and to fix
The generous purpose in the glowing breast

Thomson "6 Seasons.

By our minister's recommendation, I was engaged
to keep a school, in a neighbouring town, so soon as
our fail's work was over.

How my heart dilated with the prospect, in the
tedious interval, previous to my entering upon my
school. How often have I stood suspended over my
dung fork, and anticipated my scholars, seated in
awful silence around me, my arm chair and birchen
sceptre of authority. There was an echo in my
father's sheep pasture. More than once have I
repaired there alone, and exclaimed with a loud
voice, is master I'pdike Underbill at home? I
would speak with master. Underbill, for the pleasure
of hearing how my title sounded. Dost thou smile,
indignant reader ? pause and recollect if these sensa-
tions have not been familiar to thee, at some time in
thy life. If thou answerest disdainfully. — no — then
I aver thou hast never been a corporal in militia, or
a sophomore at college.

At times, I however entertained less pleasing, but
more rational contemplations on my prospects. As
I had been once unmercifully whipt, for detecting
my master in a false concord, I resolved to be mild
in my government, to avoid all manual corrections,
and doubted not by these means to secure the love
and respect of my pupils.

In the interim of school hours, and in those peace-
ful intervals, when my pupils were engaged in
study, I hoped to indulge myself with my favourite
Greek. I expected to be overwhelmed with the
gratitude of their parents, for pouring the fresh in-
struction over the minds of their children, and
teaching their young ideas how to shoot. I antici-
pated independence from my salary, which was to
be equal to four dollars, hard money, per month,
and my boarding; and expected to find amusement
and pleasure among the circles of the young, and to
derive information and delight from the classic con-
verse of the minister.

In due time my ambition was gratified, and I
placed at the head of a school, consisting of about
sixty scholars. Excepting three or four overgrown
boys of eighteen, the generality of them were under
the age of seven years. Perhaps a more ragged,
ill bred, ignorant set, never were collected, for the
punishment of a poor pedagogue. To study in
school was impossible. Instead of the silence I an-
ticipated, there was an incessant clamour. Predomi-
nant among the jarring sounds were, Sir, may I
read? May I spell? Master, may I go out? Will
master mend my pen? What with the pouting of
the small children, 6ent to school, not to learn, but
to keep them out of " harm's way," and the gruff,
surly complaints of the larger ones, I was nearly
distracted. Homer's poluphlosboio thalasscs, roaring
sea, was a whisper to it. My resolution, to avoid
beating of them, made me invent small punishments,
which often have a salutary impression on delicate
minds; but they were insensible to shame. The
putting of a paper fool's cap on one, and ordering
another under my great chair, only excited mirth in

* From the Algerine Captive.

ROYAL TYLER.

419

the school ; which the very delinquents themselves
often increased, by loud peals of laughter. Going,
one frosty morning, into my school, 1 found one of
the larger buys sitting by the fire in my arm chair.
I gently requested him to remove. He replied that
he would, when he had warmed himself; " father
finds wood, and not you." To have my throne
usurped, in the face of the whole school, shook my
government to the centre. I immediately snatched
my two foot rule, and laid it pretty smartly across
his back. He quitted the chair, muttering that he
would tell father. I found his threats of more con-
sequence than I apprehended. The same afternoon,
a tall, rawboned man called me to the door; imme-
diately collaring me with one hand, and holding a
cart whip over my head with the other ; and with
fury in his face, he vowed he would whip the skin
from my bones, if ever I struck Jotham again : ay,
he would do it that very moment, if he was not
afraid I would take the law of him. This was the
only instance of the overwhelming gratitude of
parents I received. The next day, it was reported
all over town, what a cruel man the master was.
"Poor Jotham came into school, half frozen and
near fainting; master had been sitting a whole hour
by the warm fire; he only begged him to let him
warm himself a little, when the master rose in a
rage and cut open his head with the tongs, and his
life was despaired of."

Fatigued with the vexations of my school, I one
evening repaired to the tavern, and mixed with
some of the young men of the town. Their conver-
sation I could not relish; mine they could not com-
prehend. The subject of race-horses being intro-
duced, I ventured to descant upon Xanthus, the im-
mortal courser of Achilles. They had never heard
of 'squire Achilles, or his horse; but they offered to
bet two to one, that Bajazet, the Old Roan, or the
deacon's mare, Pumpkin and Milk, would beat him,
and challenged me to appoint time and place.

Nor was I more acceptable among the young wo-
men. Being invited to spend an evening, after a
quilting, I thought this a happy opportunity to in-
troduce Andromache, the wife of the great Hector,
at her loom; and Penelope, the faithful wife of
Ulysses, weaving her seven years' web. This was
received with a stupid stare, until I mentioned the
long time the queen of Ulysses was weaving; when
a smart young woman observed, that she supposed
Miss Penelope's 3'arn was rotted in whitening, that
m;ide her so long: and then told a tedious story of
a piece of cotton and linen she had herself woven,
under the same circumstances. She had no sooner
finished, than, to enforce my observations, I recited
above forty lines of Greek, from the Odyssey, and
then began a dissertation on the ccenura. In the
midst of my harangue, a florid-faced young man,
at the further end of the room, with two large pro-
minent foreteeth, remarkably white, began to sing —

Fire upon the mountains, run, boys, run ;

And immediately the whole company rushed for-
ward, to see who should get a chance in the reel of
six.

I was about retiring, fatigued and disgusted, when
it was hinted to me, that I might wait on Miss Mima
home ; but as I could recollect no word in the Greek,
which would construe into bundling, or any of
Homer's heroes, who got the bag, I declined. In the
Latin, it is true, that ^Eneas and Dido, in the cave,
seem something like a precedent. It was reported
all over the town, the next day, that master was a
popish, as he had talked French two hours.

Disappointed of recreation among the young, my
next object was the minister. Here I expected plea-

sure and profit. He had spent many years in preach-
ing, for the edification of private families, and was
settled in the town, in a fit of enthusiasm ; when the
people drove away a clergyman, respectable for his
years and learning. This he was pleased to call an
awakening. He lectured me, at the first onset, for
not attending the conference and night meetings;
talked much of gifts, and decried human learning,
as carnal and devilish, and well he might, he cer-
tainly was under no obligations to it ; for a new
singing master coming into town, the young people,
by their mdster's advice, were for introducing Dr.
Watts's version of the Psalms. Although I argued
with the minister an hour, lie remains firmly con-
vinced, to this day, that the version of Sternhold
and Hopkins is the same in language, letter and
metre, with those Psalms King David chauuted, in
the city of Jerusalem.

As for the independence I had founded on my
wages, it vanished, like the rest of my scholastic
prospects. I had contracted some debts. My re-
quest for present payment, was received with
astonishment. I found I was not to expect it, until
the next autumn, and then not in cash, but produce ;
to become my own collector, and to pick up my
dues, half a peck of corn or rye in a place.

I was almost distracted, and yearned for the ex-
piration of my contract, when an unexpected period
was put to my distress. News was brought, that,
by the carelessness of the boys, the school-house was
burnt down. The common cry now was, that I
ought, in justice, to pay for it; as to my want of
proper government the carelessness of the boys
ought to be imputed. The beating of Jotham was
forgotten, and a thousand stories of my want of pro-
per spirit circulated. These reports, and even the
loss of a valuable Gradus ad Pamassum, did not
damp my joy. I am sometimes led to believe, that
my emancipation from real slavery in Algiers, did
not afford me sincerer joy, than 1 experienced at
that moment.

I returned to my father, who received me with
kindness. My mother heard the story of my dis-
comfitures with transport ; as, she said, she had no
doubt that her dream, about uiy falling into the
hands of savages, was now out.

ANECDOTES OF DE. BENJAMIN FRANELIN', WHOM THE AUTHOE
VISITS IN PniLADELPUIA.

One not vers'd in schools,
But strong in sense, and wise without the rules.

Pope.

I carried a request to the late Doctor Benjamin
Franklin, then president of the state of Pennsylva-
nia, for certain papers, I was to deliver further
southward. I anticipated much pleasure, from the
interview with this truly great man : To see one,
who, from small beginnings, by the sole exertion
of native genius, and indefatigable industry, had
raised himself to the pinnacle of polities and letters;
a man, who, from an humble porter's boy, had ele-
vated himself to be the desirable companion of the
great ones of the earth : who, from trundling a
wheelbarrow in bye lanes, had been advanced to
pass in splendour through the courts of kings; and,
from hawking vile ballads, to the contracting and
signing treaties, which gave peace and independence
to three millions of his fellow citizens, was a sight
interesting in the extreme.

I found the doctor surrounded by company, most
of whom were j'oung people. He received me with
the attention due to a young stranger. He dispatch-
ed a person for the papers I wanted ; asked me
politely to be seated; inquired after the family I
sprang from ; and told me a pleasing anecdote of my

420

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN" LITERATURE

biave ancestor, Captain Underbill. I found, in the
doctor, all that simplicity of language, which is re-
markable in the fragment of his life, published since
his decease; and which was conspicuous in my
medical preceptor. I have since been in a room a
few hours with Governour Jay, of New York; have
heard of the late Governour Livingston, of New
Jersey ; and am now confirmed in the opinion, I have
suggested, that men of genuine merit, as thej' possess
the essence, need not the parade of great knowledge.
A rich man is often plain in his attire, and the man,
who has abundant treasures of learning, simple in
his manners and style.

The doctor, in early life, was economical from
principle ; in his latter days, perhaps from habit.
Poor Richard held the purse strings of the president
of Pennsylvania. Permit me to illustrate this ob-
servation by an anecdote. Soon after I was intro-
duced, a?i aiiy, thoughtless relation, from a New
England state, entered the room. It seems he was
on a party of pleasure, and had been so much in-
volved in it, for three weeks, as not to have paid his
respects to his venerable relative. The purpose of
his present visit was, to solicit the loan of a small
sum of money, to enable him to pay his bills, and
transport himself home. He preluded his request,
with a detail of embarrassments, which might have
befallen the most circumspect. He said that he had

loaded a vessel for B , and as he did not deal oa

credit, had purchased beyond his current cash, and
could not readily procure a draft upon home. The
doctor, inquiring how much he wanted, he replied,
with some hesitation, fifty dollars. Ihe benevolent
old gentleman went to his escritoir, and counted him
out an hundred. He received them with many pro-
mises of punctual payment, and hastily took up the
writing implements, to draught a note of hand, for
the cash, 'ihe doctor, who saw the nature of the
borrower's embarrassments, better than he was
aware; and was possessed with the improbability of
ever recovering his cash again, stepped across the
room, laying his hand gently upon his cousin's arm,
said, stop cousin, we will save the paper; a quarter
of a sheet is not of great value, but it is worth
saving: conveying, at once, a liberal gift and gentle
reprimand for the borrower's prevarication and ex-
travagance. Since I am talking of Franklin, the
reader may be as unwilling to leave him as I wns.
Allow me to relate another anecdote. I do not
recollect how the conversation was introduced; but
a young person in company mentioned his surprise,
that the possession of great riches should ever be
attended with such anxiety and solicitude; and in-
stanced Mr. R K , who, he said, though in

possession of unbounded wealth, yet was as busy
and more anxious, than the most assiduous clerk in
his counting-house. The doctor took an apple from
a fruit basket, and presented it to a little child, who
could just totter about the room. The child could
scarce grasp it in his hand, lie then gave it another,
which occupied the other hand. Then choosing a
third, remarkable for its size and beauty, he present-
ed that also. Ihe child, after many ineffectual at-
tempts to hold the three, dropped the last on the
carpet, and burst into tears. Bee there, said the phi-
losopher ; there is a little man, with more riches than
he can enjoy.

ALEXANDRE ILAMILTON.

Alexander Hamilton, the soldier, statesman,
and jurist, the right arm of Washington in peace
and war, was not a native of the United States,
though no name is more thoroughly American in
its associations than his in our home annals. He

was born in St. Kitts, one of the West India Is-
lands, January 11, 1757. His grandfather was a
gentleman of Ayrshire, in Scotland, whence his
father emigrated to St. Kitts, where he became
bankrupt as a merchant. He married at that
island a widow of Huguenot descent, and thus hi?
son, Alexander Hamilton, may have inherited the
Scottish strength with the French vivacity of
character. He certainly possessed both these
qualities in a very eminent degree, and exhibited
them at a very early age. When he attained
fortune and influence in New York, he earnestly
invited his father to join him ; but his health not
suffering him to leave the southern climate, the
son contributed to his support till his death in
1799. His mother, who died in his childhood,
lie recollected as his warm nature and her quali-
ties demanded, says his own son and biographer.
" with inexpressible fondness." Upon her death,
he was under the care of her relations at St.
Croix acquiring a limited West India education,
with such progress in general reading as his own
powers of mind and the acquaintance of a Pres-
byterian clergyman directed. At twelve years of
age he is in the counting-house of Nicholas Cru-
ger, a New York merchant, transacting business
in the island, who took the strongest interest in
his prosperity, and by whom his good reception,
when he went to America, was greatly promoted.
For these good services Hamilton always enter-
tained the warmest recollections. When upon the
death of Cruger a litigation grew out of his will,
Hamilton defended and secured the rights of his
family, steadily refusing any compensation: and
when upon Hamilton's death, a recompense for
his services was offered to his widow, it was met
by the production of a paper written by Hamilton,
in his last hours, enjoining his family never to
receive money from any of the name of Cruger;
so far did he carry his sense of the early kindness
shown him.

A letter of that date, 1769, shows the ardent
ambition of the boy, and the fire at that early age
pent up within him. He writes to a school-fellow
at New York: " To confess my weakness, Ned, my
ambition is prevalent, so that I contemn the gro-
velling condition of a clerk, or the like, to which,
my fortune condemns me, and would willingly
risk my life, though not my character, to exalt
my station. I am confident, Ned, that my youth
excludes me from any hopes of immediate prefer-
ment, nor do I desire it ; but I me:m to prepare
the way for futurity. I'm no philosopher, you
see, and may be justly said to build castles in the
air; my folly makes me ashamed, and beg yon'li
conceal it; yet, Neddy, we have seen such
schemes successful when the projector is constant.
I shall conclude by saying I wish there wns a
war." There was nothing of the indolence of
the tropics in this language. " The child was
father of the man." He was a thorough mer-
chant's clerk, as he was afterwards the finan-
cier of the new states even then struggling into
being on the main land. A description of a storm
among the islands, which he wrote at the age
of fifteen, influenced his friends in sending him to
New York to pursue his studies. He landed at
Boston, October, 1772, and passing to New York
was introduced to the good society of the place.
He studied Lard at the school of Francis Far-

ALEXANDER HAMILTON.

421

ber* at Elizahethtown, and enjoyed the intimacy
of Governor Livingston ; practising his pen all the
while in such occasional verses as an elegy, and a
prologue and epilogue for a play acted hy British
soldiers in the neighborhood. He presented him-
self to- Dr. Witherspoon at Princeton College,
with the intention of passing as rapidly through
the classes as his powers would permit. This pri-
vilege, was not allowed by the rules of the insti-
tution, and he entered King's, after the Revolu-
tion Columbia College at New York, ne exer-
cised his talents as a speaker in a debating club
of the college ; and his ready pen in doggrel
rhymes at the expense of the ministerial writers
who attacked John Holt's Whig newspaper. His
character exhibited itself at this time in his strong
devotional feeling.

His first step in public affairs was memorable,
and, as it is related in his memoirs, would form a
worthy scene for the pencil of the artist. A meet-
ing of the people of New York was called in The
Fields to consider the questions preparatory to a
general congress. It was one of the most impor-
tant occasions in the city of the early Revolu-
tionary period. Hamilton was then seventeen.
His patriotism had just been excited by a visit to
Boston, then the school of Revolution, where
Trumbull at the same time learnt the lesson of
freedom. The story is thus told by his biogra-
pher.

" It has been related to have been his habit to
walk several hours each day under the shade of
some largs trees which stood in Batteau, now
Dey street, talking to himself in an under tone of
voic;, apparently engaged in deep thought, a
practice which he continued through life. This
circumstance attracted the attention of his neigh-
bors, to whom he was known as the 'young
West Indian,' and led them to engage in conver-
sation with him. One of them remarking the
vigor and maturity of his thoughts, urged him to
address this meeting, to which all the patriots
were looking with the greatest interest. From
this seeming intrusion he at first recoiled ; but
after listening attentively to the successive speak-
ers, and finding several points untouched, he pre-
sented himself to the assembled multitude. The
novelty of the attempt, his youthful countenance,
his slender and diminutive form, awakened curi-
osity and arrested attention. Overawed by the
scene before him, ho at first hesitated and fal-
tered ; but as ho proceeded almost unconsciously
to utter his accustomed reflections, his mind
warmed with the theme, his energies were reco-
vered ; and after a discussion clear, cogent, and
novel, of the great principles involved in the con-
troversy, he depicted in glowing colors the long
continued and long endured oppressions of the
mother country ; lie insisted on the duty of re-
sistance, pointed to the means and certainty of

* Francis Barber, who was of Irish parentage, was born at
Princeton, New Jersey, in 1751. where he received his educa-
tion, and was afterwards in charge of an academy at Elizabeth-
town On the breaking out of the Revolution he was an officer
In the Jersey service, and rose to the rank of Colonel, being
actively engaged in Ihe rccnes of the war. He was present at
the capture of Yorktown. He met with his death in a singular
manner by a tree falling on him as be passed the edge of a
wood in the discharge of his duty as a soldier in camp with
Washington at New Windsor.— Nat. Portrait Gallery, 2d Ed.
1S35.

success, and described the waves of rebellion spark-
ling with fire, and washing back on the shores of
England the wrecks of her power, her wealth, and
her glory. The breathless silence ceased as he
closed; and the whispered murmur, 'it is a col-
legian! it is a collegian!' was lost in loud ex-
pressions of wonder and applause at the extra-
ordinary eloquence of the young stranger."*

The orator was thus launched on the troubled
waters of the times. The writer soon plunged
after. One of his first efforts seems to have been
a newspaper reply to some Tory argument by
the President of his college, the youthful Myles
Cooper, and his earliest distinct publication, a
pamphlet issued by Rivington, a reply to a go-
vernment tract of the times, in which Dr. Sea-
bury (afterwards the Bishop) had a hand.t The
argument of this piece of Hamilton's is direct, the
language nervous. Two brief sentences are al-
ready in this early effort Hamiltonian tests of
the future statesman. Addressing the farmers he
intimates that he affects no class partialities for
them as such, and adds, " I despise all false pre-
tensions and mean arts." A few sentences fur-
ther on, " (iive me the steady, uniform, unshaken
security of constitutional freedom." A second
pamphlet' followed February, 1775, from his pen,
of noticeable vigor.J President Cooper thought
Mr. Jay must have written it, for Hamilton was
quite too young for such a production.

There was a third character in which he was
to be known to his countrymen — the soldier.
While still a collegian he was engaged with some
of the youth of the city in military exercises in
the churchyard of St. George's chapel. They
called their company the " Hearts of Oak." It
was sufficiently organized to be detailed by the
revolutionary committee to the work of removing
the cannon. from the Battery. A boat from the
Asia man-of-war was fired upon, and several citi-
zens killed by the return broadside from the ship.
Hamilton, undisturbed by a fallen comrade, ac-
complished his work. A convention of the towns-
people ensued, which drove Dr. Cooper from the
college, and for a while Toryism and literature
were at a discount.

We have now seen Hamilton fully embarked
on his great American career, and must pass
rapidly over the incidents of his manhood, barely
alluding to his early engagement in the camp
with Washington, at the age of twenty, in 1777 ;
his military life, by the side of his great leader,
from Trenton to Yorktown, in which his bravery
and capacity were always distinguished, and
the services of his pen in the army correspon-

* Life of Hamilton, by J. C. Hamilton, i. 22.

+ Hamilton's pamphlet was entitled, UA full Vindication of the
Measures of Congress from the Calumnies of their enemies, in
answer to a Letter under the signature of a W, Farmer;
whereby his sopltdstry is exposed, his cavils confuted, his arti-
fices detected, and bis wit ridiculed in a General Address to
the Inhabitants of America, aed a Particular Address to the
Farmers of the Province of Arte York. Veritas magna est et
prevalebit. Truth is powerful and will prevail. New York.
Printed by James P.ivington. 1774.

% The Farmer Refuted; or, a more comprehensive and im-*
partial view of the Disputes between Great Britain and tbo
Colonies. Intended as a further Vindication of tho Congress in
answer to a letter from a Westchester Farmer, entitled a View
of the Controversy between Great Britain and her Colonies,
including a mode of determining the present disputes finally
and effectually, &c By a sincere fiiecd to America. Tituli
remedia pollicentur. sed pixedes ipsa; venena continent. The
title promises remedies, but the box itself poisons.

422

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

dence. Two incidents of the war may be men-
tioned, for the light which they throw upon his
character — his momentary difficulty with Gene-
ral Washington, showing his high sense of honor
and the spur of his southern birth, and his pathe-
tic considerate conduct on the capture of Major
Andre, to whom, while his judgment acquiesced
in his rigorous fate, his tenderness was un-
bounded. There is no finer written pathos in
our history than Hamilton's account, sent to
Laurens, of the treason of Arnold and the death
of Andrt .* The delicacy with which Arnold's
wife is mentioned ; the sensitiveness and almost
reverence with which he writes about the last
offices to the gallant sufferer; the ardor of his
emotion, which inspires such subtle and eloquent
reflections as his remarks on war, that "the author-
ized maxims and practices of war are the satires
of human nature" — and of Andre, that " never,
perhaps, did any man suffer death with more
justice, or deserve it less." These are noble
monuments of the man.

In 1780, Hamilton was married on the 14th
December to the second daughter of General
Schuyler, who survived her husband for half a
century, dying at the age of ninety-six in the
autumn of 1854.

In 1782, he withdrew from public life, which
then opened to him some of its rewards, in occu-
pation in the service of his country abroad, and
devoted himself at Albany to the incessant study
of the law for four months, when he was ad-
mitted to the Supreme Court. At the close of
the year he took his seat in Congress, and is
henceforth in political life. Becoming a delegate
from New York to the Congress of 1787 which
formed the Constitution, which is identified with
his name as associated with Jay and Madison, he
defended its provisions, and asserted its principles
in the pages of the Federalist, while it was before
the several states for adoption. Of the eighty-five
numbers of which this work was composed, fifty-

* It is printed in the first volume of tho Lifo, by bis son.

one were by Hamilton ; Jay wrote but five, and
Madison the remainder.* The introduction and
conclusion were from the pen of Hamilton. He
also took the main discussion of the important
points in respect to the taxation and the revenue,
the army and militia, the power of the Executive,
and the Judiciary.

When the Constitution — which he had done so
much to organize and secure, both for the country
at large and for his own state in the New York
Convention — went into effect with the Presidency
of Washington, that great man again called Hamil-
ton to his side in the important po-t — perhaps
the most important then in the national affairs — of
Secretary of the Treasury. His cabinet papers and
practical achievements in this position establish
his great financial reputation. It was in allusion
to these financial exertions and abilities that
Daniel Webster paid an eloquent tribute to the
genius of Hamilton in a public dinner speech in
New York. " He smote the rock of the national
resources, and abundant streams of revenue gushed
forth. He touched the dead corpse of the public
credit, and it sprung upon its feet.'"t

On the fourth of July, 1789, ho delivered an
Eulogium on Major-Gcneral Greene before the
Society of the Cincinnati, in which he gave full
expression to his admiration of the life of that
distinguished officer and friend of Washington,
and traced his military career in a succinct and
forcible narrative. It is a model for compositions
of its class.

The letters of Pacificus, in 1793, exhibit his
course when France urged the abandonment of
American neutrality. When, in the Presidency
of Adams, Washington was invited to the com-
mand of the national forces, on the prospect of an
attack from France, he paid a last compliment to
the military genius of his friend and aide of the
Revolution. He stipulated that Hamilton should
be his second in command. On the death of
Washington he became Commander-in-Chief.

The too brief remainder of Hamilton's life was
passed in New York, in the practice of the law
and the agitations of politics, till his fatal and
unnecessary duel with Burr, at Weehawken, closed
his life July 12, 1804. His last great legal effort
was made but a short time before his death, in
Feb., 1804, being his argument on the law of
libel in the Supreme Court of the State of New
York, in the case of the People against Harry
Croswell, on an indictment for a libel on Jeffer-
son, in which he maintained the popular privi-
lege of the jury in the decision of both law and.
fact.

Never was American more sincerely mourned.
The eloquence of the pulpit, the bar, and the press,
was expended in oration, discourse, and eulogium. j

* The Federalist originally appeared in the columns of the
New York Daily Advertiser. The papers were collected and
published in two neat duodecimo volumes, by J. & A. MXean,
New York, 17SS; another edition appeared during Hamilton's
lifetime, in 1SC2, from the press of George F. Hopkins New
York. The papers were also included in an edition of Hamil-
ton's works, in three vols., by Williams & Whiting, New York,
1S10. In ISIS, an edition was published by Jacob Gideon at
Washington, which embraced tho revisions by Madison of lib
papers.

T Speech, Feb., 1831.

J Coleman, of the Evening Post, published a memorial of the
occasion in A Collection of the Facts and Documents relative
to the Death of Major-Goncral Alexander Hamilton ; with

ALEXANDER HAMILTON.

423

Gouverneur Morris delivered his funeral oration.
Dr. Mason pronounced his Eulogy in the pulpit.

His federal compatriot and friend, the eminent
Fisher Ames, horrowed the language of Scripture
in mourning over his death, and measuring his
probable earthly future, had he lived by his
undoubted past, vented his feelings in the excla-
mation, that " his soul stiffened with despair
when he thought what Hamilton would have
been."*

In 1851, an edition of the works of Hamilton,
including his correspondence and official paper?,
with the exception of the Federalist, was published
with the assistance of Oongress.t It was pre-
pared by John C. Hamilton. In the last volume,
two papers are given from the original MS. of
Hamilton bearing upon Washington's Farewell
Address : one, an Abstract of Points to form an
Address, the other, a draft in full, the variations
from which, as delivered, are noted. This, with
the previous publication by Mr. Lenox, com-
pleted the materials for the study of the prepara-
tion of this interesting document.]:

THE FATE OP MAJOR ANDRE.

A Letter from Hamilton to La/urena.%

Since my return from Hartford, my dear Laurens,
my mind has been too little at ease to permit me to
write to you sooner. It has been wholly occupied by
the affecting and tragic consequences of Arnold's
treason. My feelings were never put to so severe a
trial. You will no doubt have heard the principal
facts before this reaches you ; but there are particu-
lars to which my situation gave me access, that can-
not have come to your knowledge from public
report, which I am persuaded you will find interest-
ing.

From 6everal circumstances, the project seems to
have originated with Arnold himself, and to have
been long premeditated. The first overture is
traced back to some time in June last. It was con-
veyed in a letter to Colonel Robinson, the substance
of which was, that the ingratitude he had expe-
rienced from Ins country, concurring with other
causes, had entirely changed his principles; that he
now only sought to restore himself to the favour of
his king by some signal proof of his repentance, and
would be happy to open a correspondence with Sir
Henry Clinton for that purpose. About this period

Comments: together with the various Orations, Sermons, and
Eulogies that have been published or written on his Life and
Character. Quoad humanum genus incolume manscrit, quam-
diu usus Uteris, honor sumniffiEi iqaentiffi pretium erit, qnam-
diu rerum natura aut fortuna steterit, aut memoria duraverit,
admirabile, posterisvigebis ingenium. Aurf.lius Fuscus. By
the Editor of the Evening Post. New York: J. Riley & Co.,
1804. Svo. pp. 23S.

* Sketch of the Character of Alexander Hamilton, 18(14.

f The Works of Alexander Hamilton; comprising his Cor-
respondence, and his Political and Official Writings, exclusive
of the Federalist. Civil and Military. Published from the
Original Manuscripts deposited in the Department of State, by
order of the Joint Library Committee of Congress. Edited by
John C. Hamilton, Author of " The Life of Ham. Hon.11 7 vols.
Svo. New York : Francis & Co. 1851.

t Ante, p. ISO.

§ The feelings of the whole army were most liberal in be-
half of Andre : but none was more impressed with those senti-
ments of generosity and sympathy than Colonel Hamilton.
He was daily searching some way to save him. Every wish
to that effect having proved impossible, Hamilton, who was as
sensible as any other of that impossibility, and one of those
who lamented it the most, published a narrative of tho events,
aud a portraiture of the unfortunate Andre, which is a mastcr-

{)iece of literary talents and amiable sensibility. As it em-
)races all the essential circumstances of this interesting scene,
and has been erroneously published, it may not improperly be
introduced into the biography of its author. — Note- by J. C.
Hamilton in Via " Life."

he made a journey to Connecticut; on his return
from which to Philadelphia, he solicited the com-
mand of West Point, alleging that the effects of his
wound had disqualified him for the active duties of
the field. The sacrifice of this important post was
the atonement he intended to make. General Wash-
ington hesitated the less to gratify an officer who
had rendered such eminent services, as he was con-
vinced the post might be safely entrusted to one
who had given so many distinguished proofs of his
bravery. In the beginning of August he joined the
army, and renewed his application. The enemy at
this juncture had embarked the greatest part of
their force on an expedition to Rhode Island, and
our army was in motion to compel them to relin-
quish the enterprise, or to attack New York in its
weakened state. The General offered Arnold the
left wing of the army, which he declined, on the
pretext already mentioned, but not without visible
embarrassment. He certainly might have executed
the duties of such a temporary command, and it was
expected from his enterprising temper, that he would
gladly have embraced so splendid an opportunity.
Hut he did not choose to be diverted a moment
from his favourite object; probably from an appre-
hension, that some different disposition might have
taken place which would have excluded him. The
extreme solicitude he discovered to get possession of
the post, would have led to a suspicion of the
treachery, had it been possible, from his past con-
duct, to have supposed him capable of it.

The correspondence thus begun, was carried on
between Arnold and Major Andre, Adjutant General
to the British army, in behalf of Sir Henry Clinton,
under feigned signatures, and in a mercantile dis-
guise. In an intercepted letter of Arnold, which
lately fell into our hands, he proposes an interview
" to settle the risks and profits of the copartnership,"
and in the same style of metaphor intimates an ex-
pected augmentation of the garrison, and speaks of
it as the means of extending their traffic. It appears
by another letter, that Andre was to have met him
on the lines, under the sanction of a flag, in the
character of Mr. John Anderson. But some cause
or other, not known, prevented this interview.

The twentieth of last month, Robinson and Andre1
went up the river in the Vulture sloop of war.
Robinson sent a flag to Arnold with two letters, one
to General Putnam, enclosed in another to himself,
proposing an interview with Putnam, or in his
absence with Arnold, to adjust some private con-
cerns. The one to General Putnam was evidently
meant as a cover to the other, in case, by accident,
the letters should have fallen under the inspection
of a third person.

General Washington crossed the river on his way
to Hartford, the day these despatches arrived.
Arnold, conceiving he must have heard of the flag,
thought it necessary, for the sake of appearances, to
submit the letters to him, and ask his opinion of the
propriety of complying with the request. The Ge-
neral, with his usual caution, though without the
least surmise of the design, dissuaded him from it,
and advised him to reply to Robinson, that what-
ever related to his private affairs must be of a civil
nature, and could only properly be addressed to the
civil authority. This reference fortunately deranged
the plan, and was the first link in the chain of events
that led to the detection. The interview could no
longer take place in the form of a flag, but was
obliged to be managed in a secret manner.

Arnold employed one Smith to go on board the
Vulture the night of the twenty-second, to bring
Andre on shore with a pass for Mr. John Anderson.
Andre came ashore accordingly, and was conducted

424:

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

within a pieket of ours to the house of Smith, where
Arnold and lie remained together in close confer-
ence all that night and the day following. At day-
light in the morning, the commanding officer at
King's Ferry, without the privity of Arnold, moved
a couple of pieces of cannon to a point opposite to
where the Vulture lay, and obliged her to take a
more remote station. This event, or some lurking
distrust, made the boatmen refuse to convey the
two passengers back, and disconcerted Arnold so
much, that by one of those strokes of infatuation
which often confound the schemes of men conscious
of guilt, he insisted on Andre's exchanging his uni-
form for a disguise, and returning in a mode differ-
ent from that in which he came. Andre, who had
been undesignedly brought within our posts, in the
first instance, remonstrated warmly against this new
and dangerous expedient. But Arnold persisting
in declaring it impossible for him to return as he
came, he at length reluctantly yielded to his direc-
tion, and consented to change his dress, and take the
route he recommended, bmitk furnished the dis-
guise, and in the eveniug passed King's Ferry with
him, and proceeded to Crompond, where they stopped
the remainder of the night (at the instance of a
militia officer), to avoid being suspected by him.
The next morning they resumed their journey,
Smith accompanying Andre a little beyond Pine's
Bridge, where he left him. He had readied Tarry-
town, when he was taken up by three militia men,
who rushed out of the woods, aud seized his horse.
At this critical moment, his presence of mind for-
sook him. Instead of producing his pass, which
would have extricated him from our parties, and
could have done him no harm with his own, he asked
the militia men if they were of the upper or lower
party, distinctive appellations known among the
refugee corps. The militia men replied, they were
of the lower party ; upon which he told them he
was a British officer, and pressed them not to detain
him as he was upon urgent .business. This confes-
sion removed all doubt; and it was in vain he after-
wards produced his pass. He was instantly forced
off to a place of greater security ; where, after a
careful search, there were found concealed in the
feet of his stockings, several papers of importance
delivered to him by Arnold. Among these there
were a plan of the fortifications of West Point, a
memorial from the engineer on the attack and
defence of the place, returns of the garrison, cannon,
and stores, copy of the minutes of a council of war
held by General Washington a few weeks before.
The prisoner at first was inadvertently ordered to
Arnold; but on recollection, while still on the way,
he was countermanded and sent to Old Salem.

The papers were enclosed in a letter to General
Washington, which having taken a route different
from that by which he returned, made a circuit,
that afforded leisure for another letter, through an
ill-judged delicacy, written to Arnold, with infor-
mation of Anderson's capture, to get to him an hour
before General Washington arrived at his quarters,
time enough to elude the fate that awaited him.
He went down the river in his barge to the Vulture,
with such precipitate confusion, that he did not take
with him a single paper useful to the enemy. On
the first notice of the affair he was pursued, but
much too late to be overtaken.

There was some colour for imagining it was a

Eart of the plan to betray the General into the
ands of the enemy : Arnold was very anxious to
ascertain from him the precise clay of his return,
and the enemj^'s movements seem to have corres-
ponded to this point. But if it was really the ease,
jt was very injudicious. The success must have

depended on surprise, and as the officers at the
advanced posts were not in the secret, their measures
might have given the alarm, aud General Washing*-,
ton, taking the command of the post, might have
rendered the whole 6cheme abortive. Arnold, it is
true, had so dispersed the garrison as to have made
a defence difficult, but not impracticable; and the
acquisition of West Point was of such magnitude to
the enemy, that it would have been unwise to con-
nect it with any other object, however gieat, which
might make the obtaining of it precarious.

Arnold, a moment before his setting out, went
into Mrs. Arnold's apartment, and informed her that
some transactions had just come to light, which
must forever banish him from his country. She
fell into a swoon at this declaration, aud he left her
in it to consult his own safety, till the servants,
alarmed by her cries, came to her relief. She
remained frantic all day, accusing every one who
approached her with an intention to murder her
child (an infant in her arms), and exhibiting every
other mark of the most genuine and agonizing dis-
tress. Exhausted by the fatigue aud tumult of her
spirits, her phiei.zy subsided towards evening, and
she sunk into all the sadness of affliction. It was
impossible not to have been touched with her situa-
tion; everything affecting in female tears, or in the
misfortunes of beauty, everything pathetic in the
wounded tenderness of a wife, or in the appre-
hensive fondness of a mother, and, till I have rea-
son to charge the opinion, I will add, everything
amiable in Buffering innocence, conspired to make
her an object of sympathy to all who were present.
She experienced the most delicate attentions, and
every friendly office, till her departure for Philadel-
phia.

Andre was, without loss of time, conducted to the
head-quarters of the army, where he was imme-
diately brought before a board of general officers, to
prevent all possibility of misrepresentation or cavil
on the part of the enemy.

The board leported that he ought to be considered
as a spy, and according to the laws and usages of
nations, to suffer death, which was executed two
days after.

Never, perhaps, did any man suffer death with
more justice, or deserve it less. The first step ho
took after his enptui e, was to write a letter to Gene-
ral Washington, conceived in terms of dignity with-
out insolence, and apology without meanness. The
scope of it was to vindicate himself from the impu-
tation of having assumed a mean character, for
treacherous or interested purposes; asserting that
he had been involuntarily an im poster; that contrary
to his intention, which was to meet a person for in-
telligence on neutral ground, he had been betrayed
within our posts, and forced into the vile condition
of an enemy in disguise; soliciting only that to
whatever rigour policy might devote him, a decency
of treatment might be observed due to a person
who, though unfortunate, had been guilty of nothing
dishonourable. His request was granted in its full
extent; for in the whole progress of the affair, ho
was treated with the most scrupulous delicacy.
When brought before the board of officers, he met
with every mark of indulgence, and was required
to answer no interrogatory which would even em-
barrass his feelings. On his part, while he carefully
concealed everything that might implicate others,
he frankly confessed all the facts relating to him-
self, and upon his confession, without the trouble of
examining a witness, the board made their report.
The members were not more impressed with the
candour and firmness, mixed with a becoming sen-
sibility, which he displayed, than he was penetrated

ALEXANDER HAMILTON.

425

with their liberality and politeness. He acknow-
ledged the generosity of the behaviour towards him
in every respect, but particularly in this, in the
strongest terms of manly gratitude. In a conversa-
tion with a gentleman who visited him after bis
trial, he said, he flattered himself he had never been
Illiberal , but if there were any remains of prejudice
in his mind, his present experience must obliterate
them.

In one of the visits I made to him (and I saw him
several times during his confinement), lie begged
me to be the bearer of a request to the General, for
permission to send an open letter to Sir Henry
Clinton. " I foresee rny fate," said he, " and though
I pretend not to play the hero, or to be indifferent
about life, yet I am reconciled to whatever may
happen, conscious that misfortune, not guilt, has
brought it upon me. There is o ily one thing that
disturbs my tranquillity. Sir Henry Clinton bios
been too good to me; he has been lavish of his kind-
ness ; I am bound to him by too many obligations,
and love him too well to bear the thong it tnat lie
should reproach himself, or others should reproach
him, o 1 the supposition of my having conceived
myself obliged, by his instructions, to run the risk I
did. I would not, for the world, leave a sting in
his mind that should embitter his future days." He
could scarce finish, the sentence . bursting into tears,
in spite of his efforts to suppress them, and with
difficulty collecting himself e lough afterwards to
add, " I wish to be permitted to assure him, I did
not act under this impression, bat submitted to a
necessity impose I upon me, as contrary to my own
inclinations, as to his orders." His request was
readily complied with, and he wrote the letter an-
nexe 1, with which I dare say you wilt be as much
please I as I am, both for the sentiment and diction.

When bis sentence was announce 1 to him, he
remarke 1, that since it was bis lot to die, there was
Gtill a choice in the mode, which would make a
material difference to his feelings; and he would be
happy, if possible, to be indulged witli a professional
death. He made a second application by letter, in
concise but persuasive terms. It was thought that
tliis indulgence, being incompatible with the cus-
toms of war, could not be granted ; and it was,
therefore, determined, in both cases, to evade an
answer, to spare him the sensations, which a certain
knowledge of the intended mode would inflict.

In going to the place of execution, he bowed fami-
liarly as he went along, to all those with whom he
had been acquainted in bis confinement. A smile
of complacency expressed the serene fortitude of his
mind. Arrived at the fatal spot, he asked, with
some emotion, "must I then die in this manner?"
He was told it had been unavoidable. " I am recon-
ciled to my fate (said he), but not to the mode."
Soon, however, recollecting himself, he added, " it
will be but a momentary pang;" and springing upon
the cart, performed the last offices to himself, with a
composure that excited the admiration and melted
the hearts of the beholders. Upon being told the
final moment was at band, and asked if he had any-
thing to say, he answered, " nothing, but to request
you will witness to the world, that I die like a
brave man." Among the extraordinary circum-
stances that attended him, in the midst of bis
enemies he died universally regretted, and univer-
sally esteemed.

There was something singularly interesting in the
character and fortunes of Andre. To an excellent
understanding, well improved by education and
travel, he united a peculiar elegance of mind and
manners, and the advantage of a pleasing person.
It is said, he possessed a pretty taste for the fine

arts, and had himself attained some proficiency in
poetry, music, and painting. His knowledge ap-
peared without ostentation, and embellished by a
diffidence that rarely accompanies so many talents
and accomplishments, which left you to suppose
more than appeared.

His sentiments were elevated, and inspired
esteem ; — they had a softness that conciliated affec-
tion. His elocution was handsome; his address
easy, polite, and insinuating. By his merit, he bad
acquired the unlimited confidence of his General,
and was making a rapid progress in military rank
and reputation. But. in the height of bis career,
flushed with new hopes from the execution of a pro-
ject the most beneficial to his party that could be
devised, be was at once precipitated from the sum-
mit of prosperity, and saw all the expectations of
his ambition blasted, and himself ruined.

The character I have given of him, is drawn
partly from what 1 saw of him myself, and partly
from information. I am aware, that a man of real
merit is never seen in so favourable a light as
through the medium of adversity. The clouds that
surround lain are shades that set off his goo 1 quali-
ties. Misfortune cuts down the little vanities, that
in prosperous times serve as so many spots in his
virtues, and gives a tone of humility that makes his
worth more amiable. His spectators, who enjoy a
happier lot, are less prone to detract from it through
envy; and are more disposed by compassion to give
him the credit he deserves, and perhaps even to
magnify it.

1 speak not of Andre's conduct in this affair as a
philosopher, but as a man of the world. The author-
ized maxims and practices of war are the satires of
human nature. They countenance almost every
species of seduction, as well as violence; and the
General who can make most traitors in the army of
his adversary is frequently most applauded. On
this scale we acquit Andre, while we would not but
condemn him if we were to examine his conduct by
the sober rules of philosophy and moral rectitude.
It is, however, a blemish on his fame, that he once
intended to prostitute a flag, — about this, a man of
nice honour ought to have find a scruple; b.it the
temptation was great. Let his misfortunes east a
veil over his error.

Several letters from Sir Henry Clinton, and others,
were received in the course of the. affair, feebly
attempting to prove that Andre came out under the
protection of a flag, with a passport from a general
officer in actual service; and consequently could
not be justly detained. Clinton sent a deputation,
composed of Lieutenant-General Robinson, Mr. El-
liot, and Mr. William Smith, to represent, as he said,
the true state of Major Andres case. General
Greene met Robinson, and bad a conversation with
him, in which he reiterated the pretence of a flag,
urged Andre's release as a personal favour to Sir
Henry Clinton, and offered any friend of ours in
their power in exchange. Nothing could have been
more frivolous than the plea winch was used. Tho
fact was, that besides the time, manner, ob'ect of
the interview, change of dress, and other circum-
stances, there was not a single formality customary
with flags; and the passport was not to Major
Andre, but to Mr. Anderson. But had there been,
on the contrary, all the formalities, it would be an
abuse of language to say, that the sanction of a flag,
for corrupting an officer to betray his trust, ought
to be respected. So unjustifi ible a purpose would
not only destroy its validity, but make it an aggra-
vation.

Andre himself has answered the argument, by
ridiculing and exploding the idea, i:i bis examination

426

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

before the board of officers. It was a weakness to
urge it.

There was, in truth, no way of saving him.
Arnold or he must have been the victim ; the for-
mer was out of our power

It was by some suspected, Arnold had taken his
measures in such a manner, that if the interview
had been discovered in the act, it might have been
in his power to sacrifice Andre to his own security.
This surmise of double treachery, made them ima-
gine Clinton would be induced to give up Arnold
for Andre ; and a gentleman took occasion to sug-
gest the expedient to the latter, as a thing that
might be proposed by him. He declined it. The
moment he had been capable of so much frailty, I
Bhould have ceased to esteem him.

The infamy of Arnold's conduct, previous to his
desertion, is only equalled by his baseness since.
Besides the folly of writing to Sir Henry Clinton,
that Andre had acted under a passport from him,
and according to his directions, while commanding
officer at a post, and that therefore he did not
doubt he would be immediately sent in, he had the
effrontery to write to General Washington in the
same spirit, with the addition of a menace of retalia-
tion, if the sentence should be carried into execution.
He has since acted the farce of sending in his resig-
nation. This man is, in every sense, despicable. In
addition to the scene of knavery and prostitution
during his command in Philadelphia, which the late
seizure of his papers has unfolded, the history of his
command at West Point is a history of little as well
as great villanies. He practised every art of pecu-
lation; and even Btooped to connexion with the
suttlers of the garrison to defraud the public.

To his conduct, that of the captors of Andre
formed a striking contrast. He tempted them with
the offer of his watch, his horse, and any sum
of money they should name. They rejected his
offers with indignation ; and the gold that could
seduce a man high in the esteem and confidence of
his country, who had the remembrance of past ex-
ploits, the motives of present reputation and future
glory, to prop his integrity, had no charms for three
simple peasants, leaning ordy on their virtue and an
honest sense of their duty. While Arnold is handed
down, with execration, to future times, posterity
will repeat with reverence the names of Van Wart,
Paulding, and Williams.

I congratulate my friend on our happy escape
from the mischiefs with which this treason was big.
It is a new comment on the value of an honest man,
and, if it were possible, would endear you to me
more than ever. Adieu.

FROM TnE EULOGIUM ON GEN. GREENE, UEFOEE THE SOCIETY
OF THE CINCINNATI.

There is no duty that could have been assigned to
me by this society which I should execute with
greater alacrity than the one I am now called upon
to perform. All the motives capable of interesting
an ingenuous and feeling mind conspire to prompt me
to its execution. To commemorate the talents, vir-
tues, and exploits, of great and good men, is at all
times a pleasing task to those who know how to es-
teem them. But when such men, to the title of
superior merit, join that of having been the defend-
ers and guardians of our country; when they have
been connected with us as companions in the same
dangers, sufferings, misfortunes, and triumphs; when
they have been allied to us in the still more endear-
ing character of friends ; we recall the ideas of their
worth with sensations that affect us yet more nearly,
and feel an involuntary propensity to consider their
fame as our own. We seem to appropriate to our-

selves the good they have done ; and to take a per-
sonal interest in the glory they have acquired ; and
to share in the very praise we bestow.

In entering upon a subject in which your feelings
as well as my own are so deeply concerned, however
it might become me to follow examples of humility,
I shall refrain from a practice perhaps not less laud-
able than it is common. I cannot prevail upon my-
self to check the current of your sensibility by the
cold formalities of an apology for the defects of the
speaker. These can neither be concealed nor ex-
tenuated by the affectation of diffidence ; nor even
by the genuine concessions of conscious inability.
"lis your command, and the reverence we all bear
to the memory of him of whom I am to speak, that
must constitute my excuse, and my claim to your
indulgence. Did I even possess the powers of ora-
tory, I should with reluctance attempt to employ
them upon the present occasion. The native bril-
liancy of the diamond needs not the polish of art ;
the conspicuous features of pre-eminent merit, need
not the coloring pencil of imagination, nor the florid
decorations of rhetoric.

From you who knew and loved him, I fear not
the imputation of flattery, or enthusiasm, when I in-
dulge an expectation, that the name of Geeene will
at once awaken in your minds, the images of what-
ever is noble and estimable in htinian nature. The
fidelity of the portrait 1 shall draw, will therefore
have nothing to apprehend from your sentence. But
1 dare not hope that it will meet with equal justice
from all others; or that it will entirely escape the
cavils of ignorance and the shafts of envy. For
high as this great man stood in the estimation of his
country, the whole extent of his worth was little
known. The situations in which he has appeared,
though such as would have measured the faculties
and exhausted the resources of men who might
justly challenge the epithet of great, were yet in-
competent to the full display of those various, rare,
and exalted endowments, with which nature only
now and then decorates a favorite, as if with inten-
tion to astonish mankind.

As a man, the virtues of Greene are admitted ; as
a patriot, he holds a place in the foremost rank ; as
a statesman, he is praised ; as a soldier, he is ad-
mired. But in the two last characters, especially in
the last but one, his reputation falls far below his
desert. It required a longer life, and still greater
opportunities, to have enabled him to exhibit, in full
day, the vast, I had almost said the enormous, powers
of his mind.

The termination of the American war — not too
soon for his wishes, nor for the welfare of his coun-
try, but too soon for his glory — put an end to his
military career. The sudden termination of his life,
cut him off from those scenes, which the progress of
a new, immense, and unsettled empire, could not fail
to open to the complete exertion of that universal
and pervading genius which qualified him not less
for the senate than for the field.

In forming our estimate, nevertheless, of his cha-
racter, we are not left to supposition and conjecture.
We are not left to vague indications or uncertain
appearances, which partiality might varnish or pre-
judice discolor. We have a succession of deeds, as
glorious as they are unequivocal, to attest his great-
ness and perpetuate the honors of his name.

It is an observation, as just as it is common, that
in those great revolutions which occasionally con-
vulse society, human nature never fails to be brought
forward in its brightest as well as in its blackest
colors: and it has very properly been ranked not
among the least of the advantages which compensate
for the evils they produce, that they serve to briDg

BALLAD LITERATURE.

427

to light, talents and virtues, -which might otherwise
have languishe d in obscurity, or only shot forth a
few scattered and wandering rays.

Nathaniel Greene descended from reputable pa-
rents; but not placed by birth in that elevated
rank which, under a monarchy, is the only sure road
to those employments that give activity and scope
to abilities, must, in all probability, have contented
himself with the humble lot of a private citizen, or,
at most, with the contracted sphere of an elective
office, in a colonial and dependent government,
scarcely conscious of the resources of his own mind,
had not the violated rights of his country called
him to act a part on a more splendid and more am-
ple theatre.

Happily for America, he hesitated not to obey the
call. The vigor of his genius, corresponding with
the importance of the p:-ize to be contended for,
overcame the natural moderation of his temper; aud
though not hurried on by enthusiasm, but animated
by an enlightened sense of the value of free govern-
ment, he cheerfully resolved to stake his fnrtune, his
hopes, his life, and his honor, upon an enterprise, of
the danger of which he knew the whole magnitude ;
in a cause, which was worthy of the toils and of the
blood of heroes.

The sword having been appealed to, at Lexington,
as the Arbiter of- the controversy between Great
Britain and America, Greene, shortly after, marched,
at the head of a regiment, to join the American
forces at Cambridge; determined to abide the awful
decision.

He was not long there before the discerning eye
of the American Fabius marked him out as the ob-
ject of his confidence.

His abilities entitled him to a pre-eminent share
in the councils of his Chief. He gained it, and he
preserved it, amidst all the checkered varieties of
military vicissitude, and in defiance of all the in-
trigues of jealous and aspiring rivals.

As long as the measures which conducted us safely
through the first most critical stages of the war
shall be remembered with approbation ; as long as
the enterprises of Trenton and Princeton shall bo re-
garded as the dawnings of that bright day which
afterwards broke forth wiih sneh resplendent lus-
tre ; as long as the almost magic operations of the
remainder of that memorable winter, distinguished
not more by these events than by the extraordinary
spectacle of a powerful army straitened within
narrow limits by the phantom of a military force,
and never permitted to transgress those limits with
impunity, in which skill supplied the place of means,
and disposition was the substitute for an army ; as
long, I say, as these operations shall continue to be the
objects of curiosity aud wonder, so long ought the
name of Greene to be reve.ed by a grateful country.
To attribute to him a port on of the praise which is
due, as well to the formation as to the execution of
the plans that effected the*e important ends, can be
no derogation from that wisdom and magnanimity
which knew how to select and embrace counsels
worthy of being pursued.

The laurels of a Henry were never tarnished by
the obligations he owed and acknowledged to a
Sully.

******

From the Heights of Monmouth I might lead you
to the Plains of Springfield, there to behold the
veteran Knyphaussen, at the head of a veteran army,
baffled and almost beaten by a general without an
army — aided, or rather embarrassed, by small fugi-
tive bodies of volunteer militia, the mimicry of
soldiership !

But it would ill become me to detain you ia the

contemplation of objects diminutive in comparison
with those that are to succeed.

Hitherto, we have seen the illustrious Greene
acting in a subordinate capacity, the faint glimmer-
ings of his fame absorbed and lost in the superior
rays of a Washington. Happy was it for him to
have been called to a more explicit station. Had
this never been the case, the future historian, per-
plexed between the panegyric of friends and satire
of enemies, might have doubted in what colors to
draw his true character. Accident, alone, saved a
Greene from so equivocal a fate ; a reflection which
might damp the noble ardor of emulation, aud check
the toweri.ig flight of conscious merit.

The defeat of Camden, and the misfortune of
Gates, opened the career of victory and of glory to
Greene. Congress having resolved upon a successor
to the former, the choice was left to the Commander-
in-Chief, and fell upon the latter. In this destina-
tion, honorable in proportion as it was critical, he
acquiesced with the mingled emotions of a great
miud — impelled by a sense of duty — allured by the
hope of fame — apprised of the danger aud preeari-
ousness of the situation, yet confident of its own
strength, and animated by the magnitude of the ob-
ject for which it was to be exerted.

Henceforth we are to view him on a more exalted
eminence. He is no longer to figure in an ambigu-
ous or secondary light; he is to shine forth the arti-
ficer of his own glory — the leader of armies and the
deliverer of States!

BALLAD LITERATURE, &c. OF THE INDIAN,
FRENCH, AND REVOLUTIONARY 1VAJJS.

One of the early ballads written in the country
is that composed about 1724, on the encounter
between Captain Lovewell and Paugus, an Indian
chief. Lovewell was the son of Zuccheus Love-
well, an ensign in Cromwell's army, who emi-
grated to New Hampshire and settled at Dun-
stable, where he attained the wonderful age of
one hundred and twenty years. Captain Love-
well had, previously to the engagement in which
he lost his life, taken part in several encounters
with the Indians, and proved himself a man of
skill and bravery.* We give the ballad from the
appendix to the reprint of Church's Indian Wars,
by Samuel G. Drake, with the valuable notes
added by the editor.

LOVEWELL'S FIGIIT.

Of worthy Captain Lovewell, I purpose now to

sing,
How valiantly he served his country and his King;
He and his valiant soldiers, did range the woods

full wide,
And hardships they endured to quell the Indians'

pride.

Twas nigh unto Pigwacket.f on the eighth day of
May,t

They spied a rebel Indian soon after break of day;

He on a bank was walking, upon a neck of land,

Which leads into a pond§ as we're made to under-
stand.

* Farmer and Moore's Hist. Co!], of New Hampshire, i. 25 ;
hi. 64.

+ Situated on the upper part of the river Saco, then fifty miles
from any white settlement. — Farmland Moore's Coll. i. 27. It
is in the present town of Fryebum, Maine.

X They set ont from Dunstable about the 16th April, 1725.
Symmes' narrative, in Farmer and Moore's Coll. i. 27.

§ Called Saco pond. Some call this Lovewell's pond, but
Lovewell's pond is in Wakefield, where ho some time befora
"captured a company of Indians, who wero ou their way to
attack some of the frontier towns.

428

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Our men resolved to have him and travell'd two

miles round,
Until they met .the Indian, who boldly stood his

ground;.
Then spake up Captain Lovewell, " Take you good

heed," says he,
" This rogue is to decoy us, I very plainly see.*

"The Indians lie in ambush, in some place nigh at

hand,
In order to surround us upon this neck of land;
Therefore we'll march in order, and each man leave

his pack, -}-
That we may briskly fight them when they make

their attack."

They came unto this Indian, who ill 1 them thus defy,
As soon as they came nigh him, two guns he did

let fly,*
Which womidel Captain Lovewell, and likewise one

man more,§
But when this rogue was running, they laid him in

his go; e. jj

Then having scalp'd the Indian, they went back to

the spot,
Where they had laid their packs down, but there

they found them not,
For the Indians having spy'd them, when they them

down did lay,
Did seize them for their plunder, and carry them

away.

These rebels lay in ambush, this very place hard by,
So that an English soldier did one of them espy,
And cried out "Here's an Indian," with that they

started out,
As fiercely as old lions, and hideously did shout.

With that our valiant English, all gave a loud huzza,
To show the rebel Indians they fear'd them not a

straw;
So now the fight began, and as fiercely as eould be,
The Indians ran up to them, but soon were forc'd to

flee.1T

Then spake up Captain Lovewell, when first the

fight began,
" Fight on, my valiant heroes ! you see they fall like

rain."
For as we are inform'd, the Indians were so thick,
A man could scarcely fire a gun and not some of

them hit.

Then did the rebels try their best our soldiers to

surround,
But (hey could not accomplish it, because there was

a pond,
To which our men retreated and covered all the

rear,**

* This Indian was out a hunting, and probably had no know-
ledge of the English, having two ducks in his band, and liis
guns loaded with beaver shot. — Symmesand Belknap.

t The Indians finding their packs, learned their number, and
placed themselves to surround them, when they returned.

Jit appears from Mr. Symines, that the English saw the In-
dian coming, and secreted themselves, firing at him first. He
then, having two guns, discharged both, and wounded the
Captain mortally.

§ Samuel Whiting.

I Ensign Wyman shot him, and Mr. Frye, the chaplain, and
another, scalped him. — Symmcs.

1 Both pomes advanced with their guns presented, and when
they came within" a few yards," they fired on both sides.
"The Indians fell in considerable numbers, but the English,
most, if not all of them, escaped the first shot." — lb. Then ad-
vancing within twice the length of their guns, slew nine. — Pen-
hallow.

** Twelve were killed and wounded before they retreated to
the pond. There was a small bank, which 6erved them as a
breastwork, and, perhaps, saved them from an immediate de-

The rogues were forc'd to flee them, altho' they
skulk'd for fear.

Two logs there were behind them, that close toge-
ther lay,

Without being discovered, they could not get away ;

Therefore our valiant English, they travell'd in a
row,

And at a handsome distance as they were wontto go.

'Twas ten o'clock in the morning, when first the fight

begun,
And fiercely did continue until the setting sun ;
Excepting that the Indiana, some hours before 'twas

night,
Drew off into the bushes and ceased awhile to fight*

But soon again returned, in fierce and furious mood,
Shouting as in the morning, but yet not half so loud ;
For as we are informed, so thick and fast the3' fell,
Scarce twenty of their number, at night did get
home well.f

And that our valiant English, till midnight there did

stay,
To see whether the rebels would have another fray;
But they no more returning, they made off towards

their home,
And brought away their wounded as far as they

could come4

Of all our valiant English, there were but thirty-four,
And of the rebel Indians, there were about four

score.
And sixteen of our English did safely home return,
The rest were killed and wounded, for which we all

must mourn. §

Our worthy Captain Lovewell among them there

did die,
They killed Lt. Robins,] and wounded good young

Frye,!
Who "was our English chaplain ; he many Indians

slew,
And some of them he scalp'd -when bullets round

him flew.

Young Fullam** too I'll mention, because he fought
so well,

Endeavouring to save a man, a sacrifice he fell ;

But yet our valiant Englishmen in fight were ne'er
dismay'd,

But still they kept their motion, and Wyniau's'|-j' Cap-
tain made,

feat. This is the more probable, as but few were killed after-
wards.— lb.

* They probably drew off to take care of the wounded.
Symines nor Pen hallow makes mention that they returned
again to the fight, after they drew oil'.

t Forty were said to be killed upon the spot, and eighteen
more died of their wounds. — PenkuUow.

% Solomon Keyes, after receiving three wounds, crawled
along the shore of the pond, where lie chanced to find an old
canoe, into which be rolled himself, and the wind wafted him
on several miles toward the fort, which lie reached in safety,
lie felt Ins end approaching, when he was in the boat, into
which he had crawled, ou'y to die in peace, and to escape the
scu'pmg knife, but wonderfully revived. — Syrrnne*.

§ Eight were left in the woods, whose wounds were so bad
that they could not travel, of whom two only returned. Ono
ran away in the beginning of the fight.

H Tic belonged to Chelmesford. Eeing mortally wounded,
desired to have two guns charged, aid left wiih him, which
they did. He snirl, " As the Indians will come in the morning
to scalp me. I will kill one more of them if I can." — 76.

°l lie fell about the middle of the afternoon. He was the only
son of Capt. James Frye of Andover, graduated at Harvard
college in 1728, and wns chaplain of the company. — lb.

*# Only son of Major Fullam of Weston, was sergeant of the
company, and fell in the beginning of the fight. — lb.

11" Ensign Seth Wyman of Wuburn. He was presented with
a silver hilted sword for bis good conduct, and commissioned
Captain. He died 6oon.after.

BALLAD LITERATURE.

429

Who shot the old chief Paugus,* which did the foe

defeat,
Then set his men in order, and brought off the

retreat ;
And braving many dangers and hardships in the

way,
They safe arriv'd at Dunstable, the thirteenth day

of May.f

The long-continued contest known as the old
French War, though waged at a comparative
distance from the settled portion of the country,
was one which could not fail to leave its trace in
the popular literature. The foe was one whose
ascendency, in the opinion of a great part of the
colonist*, foreboded destruction to soul as well as
body. The Roman Catholic priest represented
a system which they detested ; the Indian was
identified with infant recollections and the tales of
terror of the fireside. The colonists went heart
and hand with the mother country, and shared to
the full the John Bull prejudice and contempt of
a Frenchman. As expedition succeeded expedi-
tion, battle followed after battle, the companion-
ship in different scenes of danger and endurance
led to a union of feeling among the represent-
atives of different portions of the countiy, and
while it furnished a school of warfare, presented
one also of federative union.

History has been active in identifying the local-
ities of the war and in preserving the memory
of its heroes, but has bestowed slight care on a
department which has claims equal to these — the
preservation of the ballad and song which cheered
the long march of the soldier through the wil-
derness, and warmed the hearts of his kindred at
the fireside, ilany, probably, of the fugitive pro-
ductions of which we have spoken have perished,
and the lines of some which remain may to us
have little of the spirit-stirring element, but they
are worthy of regard for their past services.

One of the first in order of the productions to
which we have alluded is a little duodecimo pam-
phlet of thirty pages, entitled Tilden's Miscel-
laneous Poems on Dicers Occasions, chiefly to
animate and rouse the Soldiers. Printed 1756.
We know nothing of the author beyond the in-
formation he furnishes us in his

preface, oe introduction".
Ingenious and Courteous Reader:

It may justly seem a matter of great surprise that
a man near 70 years of age should attempt to be an
author: it may justly be deemed by you, or any
other gentleman, to be the product of superannua-
tion. Yet, Courteous Reader, I have some excuses
to make, for digging up rusty talents out of the
earth so long lain hid. In the first place, when I
was young I was bashful, and could not stand the
gust of a laugh ; but having observed the press for
60 years, which has stood open and free to every
idle scribbler, who have come off with impunity
instead of the punishment, I tho't they would have

* Many of T.ovewe'Vs men knew Paugus personally. A huge
bear's skin formed a part of bis dress. From Mr. Symmes' ac-
count, it appears that John Chamberlain killed h'im. They
had spoken together some time in the fight and afterwards both
happened togb to the poDd to wash out their trims, which were
rendered useless by so frequent firing. Here the challenge was
given by Paugus, " It is you or I." As soon as the guns were
prepared they fired, and Paugus fell.

T Wyman and three others did not arrive until the 15th, but
the main body, consisting of twelve, arrived the 18th.

had ; I nm-thereby emboldened to venture myself
among the rest. But, ingenious sirs, I think I have
greater and nobler views; for since brave soldiers
are the very life, nerves, and sinews of their country,
and cannot be too much honored, nor too well paid
— being a lover of martial discipline — I tho't at this
critical juncture it might be of some service to the
public, to attempt to animate, and stir up the mar-
tial spirits of our soldiery, which is the utmost I can
do under my present circumstances. The small
effort I made last spring was so well accepted by the
j gentlemen of the army, that I am thereby embold-
I ened to revise that, and some other pieces, and put
them into a small pamphlet. I have nothing further
to say, Gentlemen, but conclude with the two fol-
lowing stanzas : —

Kind Sirs, if that you will accept,
This pretty Pamphlet as a gift :
With nil the powers I have left,

I will consult your Honor,
But if you throw her quite away,
As I confess you justly may,
I've nothing further for to say ;

But spit and tread upon her.

But if that kindly you receive,

And grant the Muse a blest reprieve;

That little while she has to live,

'Twill give her life and motion,
And make her crazy pinions strong;
Thro' lofty theme she'll fly along,
And every stanza in her song,

Shall stand at your devotion.

The work opens as a patriotic work, designing
to fill, in due course, all the regular requirements
of such a production, with

THE BRITISH LION ROUSED.

Hail ! great Apollo guide my feeble pen,
To rouse the august lion from his den,
Exciting vengeance on the worst of men.

Rouse, British Lion, from thy soft repose,
And take revenge upon the worst of foes,
Who try to ring and haul you by the nose.

They always did thy quiet breast annoy,
Raising rebellion with the Rival Boy,
Seeking thy faith and iut'rest to destroy.

Treaties and oaths they always did break thro';
They never did nor wou'd keep faith with you,
By popes and priests indulged so to do.

All neighbouring powers and neutral standers by
Look on our cause with an impartial eye,
And see their falseness and their perfidy.

Their grand encroachments on us ne'er did eeaee,
But by indulgence mightily increase,
Killing anil sculping us in times of peace

They buy our scalps, exciting savage clans,
In children's blood for to embue their hands,
Assisted by their cruel Gallic bands.

The British lion on his legs, with rampant tail,
we have next The English Soldiers Encouraged,
from which we take a, passage exhibiting the
grievances complained of: —

From Acadia to the Ohio river,

They seize your lands where Jove is not the giver ;

Laying a plan that they in time to come,

O'er all these lands may sing their To Deum;

And cloud your sun with Popish superstition,

And make you dread their bloody Inquisition.

4:30

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

In vain you'll sigh, and make your sad complaints

Unto these idiot- worshippers of saints.

Better to die if Heaven sees it fit,

In fields of blood, than ever to submit :

Go, heroes bold, you've a commission given

From George, our king, and the great King of

Heaven.
The blood of infants crieth from the ground,
With scalped mothers seatter'd up and down.
Revenge, revenge our blood and righteous cause
Upon these rogues who break all nature's laws.
In coverts they watch many days and nights,
To take a time to do their base exploits,
Scalp a few children, home again they run,
And swing their scalps and sing their Te Deum :
They've murther'd thus in all our north frontiers,
Fill'd mothers' hearts with sighs and groans and

tears,
And thus they've acted more than three-score years.
Had ever mortals such a cursed foe ?
Ask Jove or Mars, and they will tell you no.

Next follows Braddoclcs Fate, with, an Incite-
ment to Revenge, composed August 20, 1755.
We select a passage, headed

HIS EPITAPH.

Beneath this stone brave Braddock lies,
Who always hated cowardice,
But fell a savage sacrifice ;

Amidst his Indian foes.
I charge you, heroes, of the ground,
To guard his dark pavilion round,
And keep off all obtruding sound,

And cherish his repose.

Sleep, sleep, I say, brave valiant man,
Bold death, at last, has bid thee stand,
And to resign thy great demand,

And cancel thy commission :
Altho' thou didst not much incline,
Thy post and honors to resign ;
Now iron slumber doth confine;

None envy's thy condition.

A survey of the battle so rouses the author,
that he gives us some glimpses of his own indi-
viduality : —

Their skulking, scalping, murdering tricks

Have so enraged old sixty-six,*

With legs and arms like withered sticks,

And youthful vigor gone;
That if he lives another year,
Complete in armor he'll appear,
And laugh at death, and scoff at fear,

To right his country's wrong.

Let young and old, both high and low,
Arm well against this savage foe,
Who all around environ us 6o ;

The sons of black delusion.
New England's sons, you know their way,
And how to cross them in their play,
And drive these murdering dogs away,

Unto their last confusion.

One bold effort 0 let us make,
And at one blow behead the snake ;
And then these savage powers will break,

Which long have us oppress'd.
And this, brave soldiers, will we do,
If Heaven and George shall say so too:
And if we drive the matter thro'

The land will be at rest.

* The Author.

Come, every soldier, charge your gun,
And let your task be killing one:
Take aim until the work is done:

Don't throw away your fire;
For he that fires without an aim,
May kill his friend, and be to blame,
And in the end come off with shame,

When forced to retire.

O mother land, we think we're sure
Sufficient is thy marine powers,
To dissipate all eastern showers:

And if our arms be blest,
Thy sons in North America
Will drive these hell-born dogs awny
As far beyond the realms of day,

As east is from the west.

Forbear, my muse, thy barbarous song,
Upon this theme thou'st dwelt too long,
It is too high and mueh too strong,

The learned won't allow :
Much honor should accrue to him,
Who ne'er was at their Academ,
Come, blot out every telcsem ;*

Get home unto thy plow.

A poem follows on The Christian Hero, or
New England's Triumph : written soon after the
success of our arms at Nova Scotia, and the Sig-
nal Victory at Lake George, after which we find
The Soldiers Reproved for Reflecting on one
another. The remaining pieces consist of verses
on The Vanity and Uncertainty of all Sublu-
nary Things ; An Epitaph upon Sir Isaac New-
ton; and^ln Essay on Progedies and Earthquakes.

We are indebted for one of the most stirring of
our specimens to The History of An Expedition
against Fort Du Quesne in 1755 under Hajor-
General Braddock, edited from the original manu-
scripts by Winthrop Sargent, M.A. ; published
during the present year by the Pennsylvania His-
torical Society. " This jingling provincial ballad,"
says Mr. Sargent, " was composed in Chester coun-
ty, Pennsylvania, while the army was on its
march in the spring or early summer of 1755.
During the Revolution it was still a favorite song
there, the name of Lee being substituted for Brad-
dock. It has never, I believe, appeared in print
before. There is no doubt of its authenticity."

To arms, to arms! my jolly grenadiers!
Hark, how the drums do roll it along !
To horse, to horse, with valiant good cheer ;
We'll meet our proud foe before it is long.
Let not your courage fail you ;
Be valiant, stout, and bold ;
And it will soon avail you,
My loyal hearts of gold.
Huzzah, my valiant countrymen 1 — again I say huz-

zah!
Tis nobly done — the day's our own — huzzah, huzzah,

March on, march on, brave Braddock leads the fore-
most;
The battle is begun as you may fairly see.
Stand firm, be bold, and it will soon be over;
We'll soon gain the field from our proud enemy.
A squadron now appears, my boys;

If that they do but stand I
Boys, never fear, be sure you mind
The word of command 1

* A name the author gives to this sort of metre — Author's note.

BALLAD LITERATURE.

431

Iluzzah, my valiant countrymen! again I say huz-

zah!
Tis nobly done — the day's our own — huzzah.huzzahl

See how, see how, they break and fly before us !
See how they are scattered all over the plain !
Now, now — now, now, our country will adore us !
In peace and in triumph, boys, when we return
again I
Then laurels shall our glory crown

For all our actions told :
The hills Bhall echo all around,
My loyal hearts of gold.
Iluzzah, my valiant countrymen ! — again I say huz-

zah!
Tis nobly done — the day's our own — liuzzah, huzzah !

The Pennsylvania Gazette of September 30,
1756, contains the following spirited

ODE TO THE INHABITANTS OP PENNSYLVANIA.

Still shall the tyrant scourge of Gaul
With wasteful rage resistless fall

On Britain's slumbering race?
Still shall she wave her bloody hand
And threatening banners o'er this land,

To Britain's fell disgrace ?

And not one generous chieftain rise
(Who dares the frown of war despise,

And treacherous fear disclaim)
His country's ruin to oppose,
To hurl destruction on her foes,

And blast their rising fame ?

In Britain's cause, with valour fired,
Braddock, unhappy chief! expired,

And claim'd a nation's tear;
Nor could Oswego's bulwarks stand
The fury of a savage band,

Though Schuyler's ai'm was there.

Still shall this motley, murderous crew
Their deep, destructive arts pursue,

And general horror spread?
No — see Britannia's genius rise I
Swift o'er the Atlantic foam she fliea

And lifts her laurell'd head!

Lo! streaming through the clear blue sky,
Great Loudon's awful banners fly,

In British pomp display'd!
Soon shall the gallant chief advance ;
Before him shrink the sons of France,

Coufouuded and dismay'd.

Then rise, illustrious Britons, rise !
Great Freedom calls, pursue her voice,

And save your country's shame!
Let every hand for Britain arm'd,
And every breast with virtue warm'd,

Aspire at deathless fame!

But chief, let Pennsylvania wake,
And on her foes let terrors shake,

Their gloomy troops defy ;
For, lo ! her smoking farms and plain?,
Her captured youths, and murder'd swains,

For vengeance louder cry.

Why should we seek inglorious rest,
Or sink, with thoughtless ease opprcss'd,

While war insults so near?
While ruthless, fierce, athirst for blood,
Bellona's sons, a desperate brood I

In furious bands appear I

Rouse, rouse at once, and boldly chase
From their deep haunts, the savage race,
Till they confess you men.

Let other Armstrongs* grace the field:
Let other Blaves before them yield,
And tremble round Du Quesne.

And thou, our chief, and martial guide,
Of worth approved, of valour tried

In many a hard campaign,
0 Denny, warmed with British fire,
Our inexperienced troops inspire,

And conquest's laurels gaiu 1

The fine song, " How stands the glass around ?"
is said to have been composed by General Wolfe
the evening before the attack on Quebec. Wolfe
was a man of fine taste as well as literary ability,
and one of the many stories of the repetition of
Gray's Elegy by distinguished men on their death-
beds, or near the close of their lives, perpetuates
an incident of the same eventful evening. "As
he passed from ship to ship," of the fleet contain-
ing his troops, "he spoke to those in the boat
with him of the poet Gray, and the Elegy in a
Country Churchyard. ' I,' said he, ' would pre-
fer being the author of that poem to the glory of
beating the French to-morrow;' and while the
oars struck the river as it rippled in the silence
of the night air under the flowing tide, he re-
peated,

"The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave

Await alike th' inevitable hour,

The paths of glory lead but to the grave."*

HOW STANDS TnE GLASS AROUND ?

How stands the glass around?
For shame ye take no care, my boys,

How stands the glass around?

Let mirth and wine abound,

The trumpets sound,
The colours they are flying, boys.

To fight, kill, or wound,

May we still be found
Content with our hard fate, my boys,

On the cold ground.

Why, soldiers, why,
Should we be melancholy, boys?

Why, soldiers, why ?

Whose business 'tis to die !

What, sighing? fie!
Don't fear, drink on, be jolly, boys!

'Tis he, you or I !

Cold, hot, wet, or dry,
We're always bound to follow, boys,

And scorn to fly !

'Tis but in vain, —
I mean not to upbraid you, boys, —

'Tis but in vain,

For soldiers to complain :

Should next campaign
Send us to him who made us, boys,

We're free from pain !

But if we remain,
A bottle and a kind landlady

Cure all again.

* The worthy and gallant Colonel Armstrong, who, at the
head of a number of the provincial troops, destroyed an Indian
town, and its inhabitants, within twenty-five miles of Fort Da
Quesne.

t Bancroft's History United States, iv. 832.

432

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

The death of Wolfe called forth many mournful
tributes to his virtues. We select a few lines
which appeared in the Pennsylvania Gazette,
No?. 8, 1759.

Thy merits, Wolfe, transcend all human praise,

The breathing marble or the muses' lays.

Art is but vain — the force of language weak.

To paint thy virtues, or thy actions speak.

Had I Duche's or Godfrey's magic skill,

Each line to raise, and animate at will —

To rouse each passion dormant in the soul,

Point out its object, or its rage control —

Then, Wolfe, some faint resemblance should we find

Of those great virtues that adoru'd thy mind.

Like Britain's genius shouldst thou then appear,

Hurling destruction on the Gallic rear —

While France, astonish'd, trembled at thy sight,

And placed her safety in ignoble flight.

Thy last great scene should melt each Briton's heart,

And rage and grief alternately impart.

With foes surrounded, midst the shades of death,
These were the words that closed the warrior's

breath —
" My eyesight fails ! — but does the foe retreat ?
If they retire, I'm happy in my fate!"
A generous chief, to whom the hero spoke,
Cried, " Sir, they fly ! — their ranks entirely broke :
AVhilst thy bold troops o'er slaughter'd heaps ad-
vance,
And deal due vengeance on the sons of France."
The pleasing truth recalls his parting soul,
And from his lips these dying accents stole: —
" I'm satisfied!" he said, then wing'd his way,
Guarded by angels to celestial day.

An awful band! — Britannia's mighty dead,
Receives to glory his immortal shade.
Marlborough and Talbot hail the warlike chief —
Halket and Howe, late objects of our grief,
With joyfnl song conduct their welcome guest
To the bright mansions of eternal rest —
For those prepared who merit just applause
By bravely dying in their country's cause.

JOHN MATLEM.

John Maylem was graduated .it Harvard in
1715. lie published, in 1758, The Conquest of
Louisbourg, a Poem, 8vo. pp. 1G, and in the
same year, Gallic Perfidy, a Poem, about the
same length. His name appears on the title-
pages of both these productions, with the war-
like affix, " Philo-hellnm." From the character
of some unpublished poems, copied in a MS. col-
lection mace by Du Simitiera the antiquary, pre-
served in the Philadelphia library, he appears to
have loved wine and Venus as well. Du Simiticre,
who appears to have had a special fondness for
the writer, has also copied a letter from John
Maylem to Mr. J — s — pho — n, in which he calls
himself a drunkard, and describes an attempt
which he made to hang himself, in which a
brief tension of the rope by his suspended neck
was followed by an abandonment of the project,
serious reflection, and, up to the date of the let-
ter, a thorough reformation.

Maylem's poetic ordnance is suggestive of the
weight of the metal rather than the fire and
momentum of the discharge. We will, however,
give a brief passage from one of the most intensi-
fied of his "sound and fury" strains: —

Meanwhile, alternate deaths promiscuous fly,
And the fierce meteors blazo along the sky ;

Then 6hiver in the air, and sudden pour

A cloud of atoms, in a sulphur shower ;

Or in their city wild convulsive burst

Tea thousand ways, and mingle with the dust,

A gaping chasm in their wall disclose,

The reeking soldier at his death repose.

While fate in showers of lead connected rains,

And wings famed heroes to her dark domains;

The cutting grape-shot spatter o'er the heath,

And the fierce langiel aid the glare of death.

In such sad scenes alternately involved,

Till one fair season half her course dissolved ;

Too much the odds — the Gallic ensigns 6truck,

By all their patron images forsook,

With drooping flag and solemn pace advance,

Their courage faints, nor more can stand the chance,

The last sad purpose of their souls impart,

And claim the mercy of a British heart.

The following decided expression of opinion is
taken from Du Simitiere's MS. copy: —

SATIRE ON HALIFAX, IX NOVA SCOTIA.

The dregs of Thames and Lilly's sable stream,
Danubian rubbish and the Rhine's my theme,
Of them I sing, the rebel vagrant rout,
Base emigrants that Europe speweth out,
Their country's bane, such traitrous scoundrel crews,
Torn from the gaols, the gallows, and the stews,
From Europe's plains to ISova Scotia's woods,
Transported over the great Atlantic floods ;
In shoals they come, and fugitive invade
The horrid gloom of Halifax's shade.
Oh, Halifax! the worst of God's creation,
Posscst of the worst scoundrels of each nation:
Whores, rogues, and thieves, the dregs and scum of

vice,
Bred up to villainy, theft, rags, and lice —
Proud upstarts here, tho' starved from whence they

come ;
Just such a scoundrel pack first peopled Rome ;
Send them to hell and then they'll be at home.

Another of the poets of the war was

GEORGE COOKINGS.

We know nothing of this writer in connexion
with America except that he wrote a portion of
his poem on War in Newfoundland, in the winter
of 1758 ; that the second edition of his perform-
ance was published at Portsmouth, "in Pisca-
taqua, or New Hampshire Colony, in America,
in 1701," the first having appeared in London in
1760, and the third " in Massachusetts Colony, in
1762." The fourth and last edition was published
in London without date, but must have appeared
in or before 1706, as we find it advertised in its
complete form on the title-page of a play, The
Conquest of Canada, by the same writer, and it
was not until its fourth issue that it attained its
full growth of ten books. He was also the au-
thor of Stentorian Eloquence and Medical Infal-
libility, a satire in verse on itinerant preachers
and advertising quacks, published in 1771, and of
Benerolence and. Gratitude, a Poem, in 1772.

The longest and most ambitious of these pro-
ductions is the Heroic Poem on War. The sub-
ject grew upon the author from an account of
the conquest of Louisburg to a chroniclo of the
entire war, including the achievements of the
English at the Havana and Manilla. Wolfe is of
course the chief hero of his chronicle. A few
lines from the argument of his poem will display-
its style : —

BALLAD LITERATURE.

4:33

I sing how Wolfe, the faithless foe engag'd ;
(For where Wolfe led, the battle fiercely rag'd !)
The havoek of his war, the mould'ring walls!
Quebec's, Cape Breton's fate; the conquer'd Gauls!
His warlike deeds, no doubt, you'll all approve,
Whom foes admire! and conqu'ring Britons love.
By bloody toils, he gain'd on hostile ground,
That honour great; with which his mem'ry's

crown'd :
In Britain's cause (amidst the martial strife)
He fought, he conquer'd, and resign'd his life:
So Sampson flung proud Dngon's temple down,
Gain'd glorious death! and conquest! and renown!

* * * * * #

Where English, Scotch, and bold Hibernians storm,
(A formidable triple union form!)
The three-fold pow'rs their gallantry display,
Like powder, shot, and fire, impetuous force their

way!

The closing simile is a good specimen of the
strangely combined vigor and absurdity which
characterize this odd production.

Coekings's versification was amended by prac-
tice. His progress reminds us of those remarkable
specimen.; of improvement put forth by advertis-
ing writing-masters as proofs of the proficiency of
their pupils. As a specimen of his first attempt
we will give the salutation of Sophia to her lover,
Wolfe, when he comes to take leave of her befi ire
leaving for America, an interview to which the
general lias worked up himself and his audience
by a preliminary soliloquy : —

Sophia. — When I find, sir, you prefer the noise
and
Danger of the Battle, and Fatigues of
A foreign Campaign, to the quiet enjoyment
Of j'our Friends in Safety in your native
Country?

Second attempt — A passage from the descrip-
tion of Louisburg during the siege ; —

Disploded shells ami shot together throng;

Ami mortars from their brazen bases flung,

A prospect odd, of iron, brass, and lead:

Of stones, and mangled bodies of the dead.

Fathers to future sons shall this report ;

So fought brave Wolfe ; so look'd their island fort.

Third attempt — the opening of his satire —

When empiricks illit'rate rise,
And cram the press with bare-fae'd lies,
And with great effront'ry declare,
Their med'eines most effectual are, &c.

Fourth and last attempt, from Benevolence and
Gratitude, a very fair copy of verses, Master
Cockings, with an exuberance of flourish quite
remarkable as compared with the cramped hand
of No. 1 :—

Descend celestial muse ! my song inspire ;
With sentiments sublime, my' bosom fire,
To sing the gifts conferral on human race;
With gratitude the streams of bliss to trace.

Cookings, but little successful as an epic, is still
less so as a dramatic poet. His play is heavy and
absurd. His heroes seem to forget in their long
speeches that they have started with blank verse,
their language soon degenerates into the plainest
of plain prose. A passage from the thick of the
action before Quebec will show, however, that
the author lavishes his choicest similes with demo-

vol. i.— 28'

cratic impartiality on the humbler as well as more
exalted of the dramatis personse.

Front Trumpet. — My brave fellows 1 behave like
British seamen.
There's warm duty for ye!

A sailor answers. — ?\ever fear, sir!
We'll tow them ashore, if the grapples hold ;
Or we'll fry like sausages in the flames!

BENJAMIN YOUNG PRIME.

The Patriot Muse, or Poems on some of the
principal events of the late war: together with
a poem on the Peace: Vincit amor patrim : By
an American Gentleman, was published at Lon-
don in 1764, in an 8vo. pamphlet of 94 pages.
It is stated in a note in the copy belonging to the
Philadelphia Library, to be by Benjamin Young
Prime of New York. It contains poems on Gen.
Braddock's defeat ; on the surrender of Fort Wil-
liam Henry ; an elegy on Governor Belcher, the
g( ivernor of New Jersey, and the Rev. Aaron Burr,
President of Nassau Hall. A few lines will give
a sufficient idea of the last.

But whither am I led? why all this grief?
Though great our sorrow 'tisn't past relief;
Let sad Burrissa's sighs be all supprest,
And sooth'd the anguish of her troubled breast.

An Ode on Viscount George Augustus Howe,
slain in a skirmish near Carillon, July 6th, 1758,
follows an ode on the surrender of Louisburg.
It consists of thirty-four stanzas similar to the fol-
lowing:—

'Tis done, 'tis done,

The day is won,
At length the destin'd blow is giv'n ;

Though long our wroes,

And 3trong our foes,
Our cause is still the cause of heav'n.

Another ode, " composed on the taking of Que-
bec," contains a tribute to Wolfe.

Ah Wolfe ! the mention of thy name
Damps in my breast th' heroic flame,
And gloomy scenes far other thoughts inspire;
Smit by thy truly noble deeds,
Brave man ! my conscious bosom bleeds,
To think such merit should so soon expire.
And shall the martial lay
Triumphantly display
Britannia's victories?
And not the fun'ral strain
In pensive moans complain,
When ah! perhaps her bravest hero dies?

Yes, thou shalt now my thoughts employ,
Awhile I'll bid adieu to joy,
And in soft mis'ry mourn ;
Awhile my cheerful tongue
Shall drop the gay unfinished song,
And sing the dirge funereal o'er thy urn.

Britain, dear shade, indignant grieves
To be victorious at thy cost ;
She mourns thy fall, and scarce believes
The conquest glorious, where her Wolfe is lost.

While she triumphant twines
For her surviving sons the laurel wreath
To martial merit due,
Struck by thy hapless fate, she joins
The cypress and the yew,
To mourn her loss and their's in thy lamented death.
But thou couldstnot repine,
Thou freely couldst resign
In Britain's cause thy breath ;

t31

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Couldst a -1 the patriot hero's part,
And bear tlijT country on thy heart,
Ev'n while it languish'd in the pangs of deatli.

As once the Deeii certain death defy'd,
T' insure Rome conquest and devoted dy'd ;
As Curtius, noble youth ! intrepid brav'd
The gulf wide-yawning, and his country sav'd:
80 thou, brave Wolfe, durst, at the heav'nty call,

Rush into ruin's open jaws.
Thus like those heroes didst thou greatly fall,
Thyself devoted in thy country's cause.

Long as Quebec shall rear aloft her head,
Long as her rocks her stable walls sustain,

Long as Laurentius in his spacious bed,
Rolls his vast tide of waters to the main ;
So long, O Wolfe, thy memory shall bloom,
And deathless laurels flourish on thy tomb.

This is followed by two patriotic hymns, com-
posed for, and sung on days of national thanksgiv-
ing, " by desire of the preacher on his text."

The author also tries his hand on French verse,
and gives La Lamentation de Louis swr les vic-
toires des Anglois. A.D. mdccls.

Que dirai-je?

Que ferai-je?
Pauvre miserable roi !

Ah! personne

La couronne
N'embarrasse autant que moL

Pensive, trembling, and embarrass'd

What expedients shall I try *
Sure no monarch e'er was harass'd

With such ill success as L

This is followed by Loyal Tears shed over
Royal Dust, an elegy on George II. Also, "on

the Liberty of the Press to Mr. F , printer, at

jsew 'York, a.d. mdcclxii." With other verses
on incidents of the war, and two Latin paraphrases
of the lament of David over Absalom, and the
fight with Goliath.

In 1791, Dr. Prime published Columbia's Glory,
or British Pride Humbled,; d Poem on the
American Revolution: some part of it being a
parody on an ode entitled Britain's Glory, or
Gallic Pride Humbled / con, posed on the capture
of Quebec, A.D. 1759, by Benjamin Young
Prime, M.D. In a brief preface, he speaks of
his former publication in London, in 1764, and
of the requests of his friends made to him to
compose a parody upon it in honor of the Ameri-
can revolution. The plan expanded to a compo-
sition of 1441 lines, occupied with a review of
the events of the war, a eulogy of the friends
and denunciation of the enemies of the- country.
It was ready for publication at the close of the
war, but, as the author informs us, in consequence
of a seven years' absence from the city, his affairs
had become- somewhat deranged, and as no
printer could be found to execute the work on
any but cash terms, he postponed publishing for
a few years. We extract a portion of a panegy-
ric upon Washington : —

0 Washington! thou dear, illustrious chief!
Thou ornament and blessing to mankind !
The soldier's glory and thy country's pride !
Columbia's skilful guide
Through the dire contest, and her sweet relief
In all the sorrows of her state forlorn !
IIow has fhv character refin'd

Since first thy great career began !
Together in one giorious group combin'd
All the bright virtues that adorn
The Christian, Patriot, Hero or the Man !

* * # * * *
Nor to the narrow bounds
Of one short age alone,

Shall poorly be confin'd
The gen'rous things which thou hast done .
To benefit mankind :
For as thy fame resounds
To foreign, climes ;
So future times
The sweet rehearsal shall regale,
And from their fathers' lips, in a long line,
Shall children's children hear the pleasing tale 1

The first of the songs which mark the progress
from discontent to revolution, comes to us from
the Old Dominion : —

From the Virginia Gazette, May 2, 1766.

Sure never was picture drawn more to the life
Or affectionate husband more fond of his wife,
Than America copies and loves Britain's sons,
Who. conscious of Freedom, are bold as great guns.
" Hearts of Oak are we still, for we're sous of
those Men,
■ Who always are ready, steady, boys, steady,
To fight for their freedom again and again."

Tho' we feast and grow fat on America's soil,
Yet we own ourselves subjects of Britain's fair isle;
And who's so absurd to deny us the name? "
Since true British blood flows in every vein.
" Hearts of Oak, etc."

Then cheer up, my lads, to your country be firm,
Like kings of the ocean, we'll weather each storm ;
Integrity calls out. fair liberty, see,
Waves her Flag o'er our heads and her words are
he free.
" Hearts of Oak, <fee."

To King George, as true subjects, we loyal bow

down,
But hope we may call Magna Charta our own.
Let the rest of the world slavish worship decree,
Great Britain has ordered her sons to be free.
" Hearts of Oak, efce."

Poor Esau his birth-right gave up for a bribe,
Americans scorn th' mean soul-selling tribe;
Beyond life our freedom we chuse to possess,
Which, thro' life we'll defend, and abjure a broad S.
" Hearts of Oak are we still, and we're sons of
those men,
Who fear not the ocean, brave roarings of

cannon,
To stop all oppression, again and again.

On our brow while we laurel-ci own'd Liberty wear.
What Englishmen ought we Americans dare ;
Though tempests and terrors around us we see,
Bribes nor fears can prevail o'er the hearts that are
free.
" Hearts of Oak are we still, for we're sons of
those men
Who always are ready, steadv, boys, steady,
To fight for their freedom again and again."

With Loyalty, Liberty let us entwine,
Our blood shall for both flow as free as our wine;
Let us set an example, what all men should be,
And a Toast give the World, " Here's to those dare
be free.
" Hearts of Oak, &c."

BALLAD LITERATURE.

435

The next we present was published in the Penn-
sylvania Chronicle, July 4, 17S8. It was one of
the earliest lyrics of the Revolution, and, by an
advertisement in Hugh Gaine's Gazette, appears
to have been published with the music to which
it was set. It has been attributed both to Mrs.
Mercy Warren,* and to John Dickinson.

A BONG.

To Ow Tune of " Hearts of Oak," &a.
Come, join hand in hand, brave Americans all,
And rouse your bold hearts at fair Liberty's call ;
No tyrannous act shall suppress your just claim,
Or stain with dishonour America's name.

In freedom we're born, and in freedom we'll
live I
Our purses are ready — -
Steady, friends, steady ; —
Not as slaves, but as freemen our money we'll
give.

Our worthy forefathers (let's give them a cheer)
To climates unknown did courageously steer;
Through oceans to deserts for freedom thej' came,
And, dying, bequeathed us their freedom and fame.
In freedom we're born, (fee.

Their generous bosoms all dangers despised,
So highly, so wisely their birthrights they prized;
We'll keep what they gave, we will piously keep,
Nor frustrate their toils on the laud and the deep.
In freedom we're born, (fee.

The tree their own hands had to Liberty rear'd,
They lived to behold growing strong and revered,
A\ ltli transport then cried, " Kow our wishes we

g;iin,
For our children shall gather the fruits of our pain."

In freedom we're born, &c.

How sweet are the labours that freemen endure,
That they shall e.ijoy all the profit, secure —
No more such sweet labours Americans know
If Britons shall reap what Americans sow.
In freedom we're born, (fee.

Swarms of placemen and pensioners! soon will

appear,
Like locusts deforming the charms of the year ;
Suns vainly will rise, showers vainly descend,
If we are to .drudge for what others shall spend.

In freedom we're born, &c.

Then join hand in hand, bruve Americans all,
By uniting, we stand, by dividing, we fall ;
In so righteous a cause let us hope to succeed
For Heaven approves of each generous deed.
In freedom we're burn, (fee.

All ages shall speak with amaze and applause
Of the courage we'll show in support of our laws;
To die we can bear, but to serve we disdain,
For shame is to freemen more dreadful than pain.
In. freedom we're born, etc.

This bumper I crown for our sovereign's health,
Ai.d I his for Britannia's glory and wealth ;
That wealth and that glory immortal may be,
If she is but just, and if we are but free.
In freedom we're born, Ac.

A tory parody of this song appeared in the
Supplement Extraordinary to the Boston Gazette
of Monday, September 20, 1768 : —

Last Tuesday the following song made its ap-
pearance from a garret at C — st — e W — m : —

Come, shake your dull noddles, ye pumpkins, and

bawl,
And own that you're mad at fair Liberty's call.
No scandalous conduct can add to your shame,
Condemn'd to dishonor, inherit the fame I

In folly you're born, and in folly you'll live,
To madness still ready,
And stupidly steady,
Not as men but as monkies, the tokens you give.

Your grandsire, old Satan — now give him a cheer! —
Would act like yourselves, and as wildly would steer.
So great an example in prospect still keep;
Whilst you are alive, old Belzee may sleep.

In folly, <fcc.
Such villains, such rascals, all dangers despise,
And stick not at mobbing, when mischief's the prize:
They burst through all barriers, and piously keep,
Such chattels and goods the vile rascals can sweep.

In folly, Ac.

The tree which the wisdom of justice hath rear'd,
Should be stout for their use, and by no means be

spared,
When fuddled with rum, the mad sots to restrain ;
Sure Tyburn will sober the wretches again.

In lolly, tfec.

Your brats and your bunters by no means forget,
But feather your nests, for they're bare enough yet ;
From the insolent rich sure the poor knave may

steal,
Who ne'er in his life knew the scent of a meal.

In folly, (fee.

When in your own cellars you've quaffed a regale,
Then drive, tug and stink the next house to assail.
For short is your harvest, nor long shall you know
The pleasure of reaping what other men sow.
In folly, &a.

Then plunder, my lads, for when red coats appear,
You'll melt like the locusts when winter is near:
Gold vainly will glow ; silver vainly will shine ;
But faith you must skulk, you no more shall purloin.
In folly, (fee.

Then nod vour poor numbskulls, ye pumpkins, and

bawl !
The De'il take such rascals, fools, whoresons and all.
Your cursed old trade of purloining must cease,
The curse and the dread of all order and peace.

In folly, (fee.

All ages shall speak with contempt and amaze,
Of the vilest Banditti that swarni'd in those days;
In defiance of halters, of whips, and of chains,
The rogues would run riot, damu'd fools for their

pains.

In folly, (fee.

Gulp down your last dram, for the gallows now

groans,
And order depress'd her lost empire bemoans ;
While we quite transported and happy shall be,
From snobs, knaves and villains, protected and free.

In folly, lie.

We soon after have the tables again turned, in
a new version of this popular song. It was pub-
lished in a handbill at Boston.*

* We are indebted for tills and the previous sons to a very
* .John W.Moore s Encyclopedia of Music. 881. : valuable collection of cuttintrs from American and English

t rhc ministry nave already begnn to give away in pensions ; newspapers, illustrating the history of'onr country from 1660
the money they lately took out of our pockets 'without our | to 1840, formed by the antiquary "William TJpcott." in the pus-
consent. : seRsjon 0f thK.New York Historical Society.

436

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

THE PAEODT PAEODIZED, OB THE MASSACHUSETTS SONG OP
LIBERTY.

Come, swallow your bumpers, ye Tories, and roar,
That the sons of fair freedom are hamper'd once

more;
But know that no cut-throats our spirits can tame,
Nor a host of oppressors shall smother the flame.

Chorus.
In freedom "we're born, and like sons of the brave,

Will never surrender,

But swear to defend her,
And scorn to survive if unable to save.

Our grandsires, blest heroes! we'll give them a tear,

Nor sully their honors by stooping to fear;

Thro' deaths and thro' dangers their trophies they

won,
We dare be their rivals, nor will be outdone.

Chorus.

Let tyrants and minions presume to despise,
Encroach on our rights and make freedom their prize ;
The fruits of their rapine they never shall keep —
Tbo' vengeance may uod, yet how short is her sleep.

Chorus.

The tree which proud Haman for Mordecai rear'd,
Stands recorded, that virtue endanger'd is spar'd;
That rogues, whom no bonds and no laws can restrain,
Must be stript of their honors and humbled again.

Chorus.
Our wives and our babes still protected, shall kuow
Those who dare to be free shall for ever be so ;
Ou these arms and these hearts they may safely rely,
For in freedom we'll live, or like heroes we'll die.

Chorus.

Ye insolent tyrants, who wish to enthrall,
Ye minions! ye placemen ! pimps, pensioners, all !
How short is your triumph, how feeble your trust!
Your honors' must wither and nod to the dust.

Chorus.

When opprest and reproaeh'd, our king we implore,
Still firmly persuaded our rights he'll restore ;
When our hearts beat to arms to defend a just right,
Our monarch rules there, and forbids us to fight.

Chorus.

Not the glitter of arms, nor Hie dread of a fray,
Could make us submit to their chains for a day;
"Withheld by affection, on Britons we call,
Prevent the fierce coniliet which threatens your fall.

Chorus.

All ages shall speak with amaze and applause,
Of the prudence we show in support of our cause.
Assur'd of our safety a Brunswick still reigns,
Whose free, loyal subjects are strangers to chains.

Chorus.

Then join hand in hand, brave Americans all,
To be free, is to live ; to be slaves is to fall ;
Has the land such a dnstard as scorns not a lord?
Who dreads not a fetter much more than a sword ?

Gliorus.

A song to the same tune was composed in ^en-
York, in honor of some of the lenders of opinion
in that day, a portion of whom afterwards figured
on the royalist side. It appeared in the New York
Journal, January 26, 1769.

A SONG.

Come, cheer up, my lads, like a true British band,
In the cause of our country who join heart and

hand ;
Fair Freedom invites — she cries out — "Agree !
And be steadfast for those that are steadfast for me."

Hearts of oak are we all,
Hearts of oak we'll remain :

We always are ready —

Steady, boys, steady- —
To give them our voices again and again.

With the brave sons of Freedom, of every degree,
Unite all the good — and united are we :
But still be the lot of the villains disgrace —
Whose foul, rotten hearts give the lie to their face.
Hearts of oak, <fee.

See ! their unblushing chieftain ! perverter of laws 1
His teeth are the shark's, and a vulture's his claws —
As soon would I venture — howe'er he may talk,
My lambs with a wolf, or my fowls with a hawk.
Hearts of oak, &c.

First— the worth of good Cruger let's crown with

applause,
Who has joiu'd us again in fair Liberty's cause —
Sour Envy, herself, is afraid of his name,
And weeps that she finds not a blot in his fame.
Hearts of oak, &a.

To Jauncey, my souls, let your praises resound !
With health and success1 may his goodness be

crown'd :
May the cup of his joy never cease to run o'er —
For he gave to us all when he gave to the poor !
Hearts of oak, <fec.

What Briton, undaunted, that pants to be free,
But warms at the mention of brave De Launcey ?
"Happy Freedom!" said Fame, "what a sou have

you here !
WTiose head is approved, and whose heart is sincere."
Hearts of oak, &c.

Fo*r worth and for truth, and good nature renown'd,
Let the name and applauses of Walton go round :
His prudence attracts — but his free, honest soul
Gives a grace to the rest, and enlivens the whole.
Hearts of oak, &a.

Huzza ! for the patriots whose virtue is tried —
| Unbiass'd by faction, untainted by pride :
I Who Liberty's welfare undaunted pursue,
I With heads ever clear, and hearts ever true.
Hearts of oak, <fec.

The planting of the first liberty pole in the coun-
try in The Fields at New York, in that portion of the
present Park between the west end of the City Hall
and Broadway, by the Sons of Liberty, and the
struggle which ensned between that energetic band
and the government troops, during which the pole
was cut down, again set np, again felled, and
finally hooped and otherwise protected with iron,
seems to have excited the attention of some Tory
versifier, who perpetrated a burlesque cantata; a
copy of which is preserved in its original form of
four folio pages, printed in large type, in the col-
lection of broadsides made by Du Simitiere, now
in the possession of the Library Company of Phi-
ladelphia. A MS. note by that antiquary on the
copy, informs us that " this paper was found
under the front door of a great many houses in
New York on the morning of the fifth of March,
1770."

The Procession with the Standard of Faction:
a Cantata, opens with a few Lines of

P.ECTTATTVE.

Twas on the morn when Yirtue wept to see
Discord stalk forth in robes of liberty,
The sons of Faction met (a ghastly band !)
To fix their standard in our bleeding land:

BALLAD LITERATURE.

437

Pleas'd with the plaything, roar'd the youthful train,
Wond'ring their parents had grown young again.
#**##'*

High o'er tlie rest bra' champion Sawney stood,
The brazen trumpet of the factious brood.

Sawney sings a song in Scutch.

He ended, while amid the gazing throng
The noble captain proudly stalk'd along.

" The noble captain " was Sands, who sings a
song to the air Yankee Doodle. A stanza or two
may be given : — ■

Good neighbors, if you're not afraid,
Be not in trepidation,
Tho' our great loss before did raise
Prodigious consternation.

Yankee Doodle, dec.

Let ev'ry body laugh and sing,
And be a very gay soul ;
For we have got another post
As big as any May-pole.

Recitative.
In solemn pomp, amid the shouting throng,
The coursers drew the massy Pole along.

******
P r then sings,

Of all the men in our town,

The dark, the fair, the red, the brown,

That toil to pull the churchmen down,

There's none like S*** the L r.

Recitative.
Brave, honest George, of genuine British mould,
With face of plenty, and with heart of gold,
As 'mong the bellowing band he dauntless stood,
Soon as their standard rais'd in air he view'd,
His virtuous breast with patriot fervour glow'd,
While thus his words with manly freedom flow'd :

We give this song entire, for its minute descrip-
tion of the liberty-pole.

Air — " Derry-dvicn."
Come listen, good neighbours of every degree,
Whose hearts, like your purses, are open and free,
Let this pole a monument ever remain,
Of the folly and arts of the time-serving train.

Derry down, &c.

Its bottom, so artfully fix'd under ground,
Resembles their scheming, so low and profound ;
The dark underminings, and base dirty ends,
On which the success of the faction depends.

Derry down, &c.

The vane, mark'd with freedom, may put us in mind,
As it varies, and flutters, and turns, with the wind,
■That no faith can be plac'd in the words of our foes,
Who change as the wind of their interest blows.

Derry down, &c.
The iron elasp'd around it, so firm and so neat,
Resembles too closely their fraud and deceit,
If the outside's but guarded, they eare not a pin,
How rotten and hollow the heart is within.

Derry down, <fec.
Then away, ye pretenders to freedom, away,
Who strive to cajole us in hopes to betray;
Leave the pole for the stroke of the lightning to

sever,
And, huzzah for King George and our country for
ever!

Derry down, &c.

This curious production has never, to our
knowledge, been reprinted or noticed. Our ex-
tracts are from Du Simitiere's copy, the only one
we have met with.

The burning of the armed schooner Gaspee in
the waters of Rhode Island, one of the earliest in-
stances of resistance to British authority, gave rise
to a ballad at the time which has a genuine flavor
of the popular feeling. The passage of history to
which it refers is thus related by Bancroft. The
time was June, 1772.

" Inhabitants of Providence, in Rhode Island,
had in the last March, complained to the Deputy
Governor of tho conduct of Lieutenant Duding-
ston, Commander of the Gaspee, who obstructed
their vessels and boats, without showing any evi-
dence of his authority. Hopkins, the Chief Jus-
tice, on being consulted, gave the opinion, ' that
any person who should come into the Colony and
exercise any authority by force of arms, without
showing his commission to the Governor, and if a
Custom House officer, without being sworn into
his office, was guilty of a trespass, if not piracy.'
The Governor, therefore, sent a sheriff on board
the Gaspee^ to ascertain by what orders the Lieu-
tenant acted; and Dudingston referred the sub-
ject to the Admiral. The Admiral answered
from Boston: ' The Lieutenant, Sir, has done his
duty. I shall give the King's officers directions,
that they send every man taken in molesting them
to me. As sure as the people of Newport attempt
to rescue any vessel, and any of them are taken,
I will hang them as pirates.' Dudingston se-
conded the insolence of hi) superior officer, in-
sulted the inhabitants, plundered the islands of
sheep and hogs, cut .down trees, fired at market
boats, detained vessels without a colorable pre-
text, and made illegal seizures of goods of which
the recovery cost more than they were worth.

"On the ninth of June, the Providence Packet
was returning to Providence, and proud of its
speed, went gayly on, heedles? of the Gaspee.
Dudingston gave chase. The tide being at flood,
the Packet ventured near shore; the Gaspee con-
fidently followed; and drawing more water ran
aground on Nauquit, a little below Pautuxet.
The following night a party of men in six or seven
boats, led by John Brown and Joseph Brown of
Providence, and Simeon Potter of Bristol, boarded
the stranded schooner, after a scuffle in which
Dudingston was wounded, took and landed its
crew, and then set it on fire."*

The author of the old ballad is unknown:

NEW SONG CALLED THE GASPEE.f

'Twas in the reign of George the Third,
The public peace was much disturb'd,
By ships of war that, came anil laid,
Within our ports to stop our trade.

In seventeen hundred and seventy-two,
In ISewport harbor lay a crew
That play'd the parts of pirates there,
The sons of Freedom could not bear.

Sometimes they'd weigh, and give them chase,

Such actions, sure were very base ! —

No honest coasters could pass by,

But what they would let some shot fly.

* Bancroft's United States, vi. 416. 41T.
f From Sketches of Newport and its Vicinity, published by
John H. Taylor, New York, 1642, pp, 150-2.

438

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Which did provoke to high degree
Those true-born Sons of Liberty, —
So that they could no longer bear
Those sons of Belial staying there.

It was not long, ere it fell out
That William Duddirgston, so stout,
Commander of the Gaspee tender,
Which he has reason to remember —

Because, as people do assert,

He almost met his just desert ;

Here on the twelfth* day of last June,

Between the hours of twelve and one —

Did chase the sloop called the Hannah,
Of which one Lindsay was commander — ■
They dogg'd her up Providence Sound,
And there the rascals got aground.

The news of it flew that very day,
That they on Naquit Poiit did lay ; —
That night, about half after ten,
Some Karragansett Indian-men,

Being sixty-four, if I remember,
Soon made this stout coxcomb surrender —
And what was best of all their tricks.
In him a ball too they did fix —

Then set the men upon the land
And burnt her up, we understand —
Which thi? g provok'd the king so high
He said those men should surely die

So if he can but find them out,
King George has offered very stout
One thousand pounds to find out one
That wounded William Duddirgston.

One thousand more, he says he'll spare
To those who say they Sheriffs were —
One thousand more there doth remain
For to find out the leader's name.

Likewise one hundred pound per man,
For any one of all the clan ;
But let him try his utmost skill,
I'm apt to think he never will
Find out one of these hearts of gold,
Though he should offer fifty fold.

We have next to present three out of several
scraps of verse on the exciting topic of tea. The
first is from the New Hampshire Gazette of July
22, 1774 ; the second from the Pennsylvania
Journal of September 14, in the same year; the
third is also from a newspaper of about the same
period : —

i.

Rouse ev'ry generous thoughtful mind,
The rising danger flee ;
If you would lasting freedom find,
Now then abandon tea.

Scorn to be bound with golden eh;
Though they allure the sight;
Bid them defiance if they claim
Our freedom and birth-right.

Shall we our freedom give away,
And all our comfort place
In drinking of outlandish tea,
Only to please our taste.

* Historians say the 9th of June.

Forbid it, Heaven, let us be wise,
And seek our country's good ;
Nor ever let a thought arise,
That tea should be our food.

Since we so great a plenty have,
Of all that's for our health;
Shall we that baleful Iieb receive,
Lmpoverishing our wealth.

When we survey the breathless corpse.

With putrid matter fill'd ;

For crawling worms a sweet resort.

By us reputed ill.

Noxious effluvia sending out
From its pernicious store,
Not only from the foaming mouth,
But every lifeless pore.

To view the same enroll'd in te..
Besmear'd with such perfumes,
And then the herb sent o'er the i
To us it tainted comes.

Some of it tinctur'd with the filth
Of carcases embalm'd ;
Taste of this herb then if thou wilt,
Sure me it cannot charm.

Adieu, away, 0 tea begone,
Salute our taste no more ;
Though thou art coveted by some,
Who're destiu'd to be poor.

VIRGINIA BANISHING TEA,

£y a Lady.
Begone, pernicious baneful tea,

With all Pandora's ills possess'd;
Hyson, no more beguiled by thee,

My noble sons shall be oppress'd.
To Britain fly, where gold enslaves

And venal men their birth-right sell;
Tell North and his brib'd clan of knaves

Theft1 bloody acts were made in hell.
In Henry's reign those acts began,

Which sacred rules of justice broke;'
North now pursues the hellish plan,

To fix on us his slavish yoke.
But we oppose, and will be free,

This great good cause we will defend;
Nor bribe, nor Gage, nor North's decree,

Shall make us '" at his feet to bend."
From Anglia's ancient sons we came,

Those heroes who for freedom fought ;
In Freedom's cause we'll match their fame.

By their example greatly taught.
Our king we love, but North we hate,

Nor will to him submission own ;
If death's our doom, we'll brave our fate,

But pay allegiance to the throne.

A lady's adieu to her tea-table.

Farewell the tea-board, witli its gaudy equipage
Of cups ami saucers, cream-bucket, sugar-tongs,
The pretty tea-chest also, lately stor'd
With Hyson, Congou, and best double fine.

BALLAD LITERATURE.

439

Full many a joyous moment have I pat by ye,

Hearing the girls tattle, tiie old maids talk scandal,

And the spruce coxcomb laugh at — may be — nothing.

No more shall I dish out the once lov'd liquor,

Though now detectable,

Because I am taught (and I believe it true)

Its use will fasten slavish chains upon my country,

And Liuehty's the goddess I would chose

To reign triumphant in America.

The Association, &c., of the Colonies at the
Q-rand Congress held at Philadelphia, September
1, 1774, by " Bob Jingle, Esq., Poet-Laureat to the

Congress," printed in that year, is a parody in
verse of the Articles of Association, which
seems to have been a favorite species of wit with
the Tory bards, who found in the new proceed-
ings of legislation novel matter for their jocularity.
A clever squib, in verse, -A Dialogue between a
Southern Delegate and his Spouse, on his return
from the Grand Continental Congress, of the
same year, is in a similar vein, the humor con-
sisting in the indignant wife rating "tier simple-
minded husband for his rashness in intermeddling
with affairs of state. A single passage of the
altercation will suffice : —

Wife. Good Lord! how magnanimous !

I fear, child, thou'rt drunk,

Lost thou think thyself, deary, a Cromwell, or Monek?

Dost thou think that wise nature meant thy shallow

pate,
To digest, the important affairs of a state?
Thou born! thou! the machine of an empire to

wield?
And thou wise in debate? Should'st feel bold in the

field 1
If thou'st wisdom to manage tobacco, and slave,
It's as much as God ever designed thee to have:
Because meii are males, are they all politicians?
Why then I presume they're divines and physicians,
And born all with talents every station to fill,
Noble proofs you've given ! no doubt of your skill :
Would! instead of .Delegates, they'd sent Delegates'

wives ;
Heavens! we couldn't have bungled it so for our

lives!
If you had even consulted the boys of a school,
Beiieve me, Love, you could not have played so the

fool :
Would it bluster, and frighten its own poor dear

wife,
As the Congress does England! quite out of her

Ufe?

Husband. This same Congress, my dear, much dis-

turbeth thy rest,
God and man ask no more than that men do their

best;
Tis their fate, not their crimes, if they've little pre-
tence,
To your most transcendent penetration and sense;'
Tis great pity, I grant, they hadn't ask'd the advice
Of a judge of affairs, so profound and so nice;
You're so patient, so cool, so monstrous eloquent,
Next Congress, my Empress shall be made President,

A mild remonstrance against a famous practice
appears in Rivingtou's Gazette at this date. We
give it with its introductory note, showing its
author at least did not set an extravagant value
on his contribution.

Mr. Rivinciton* —

I shall lake it very kind in you, sir, if you will be
so good to put the verses, wrapt up in this paper,

into your next Gazetteer, for fear of some terrible
mischief: I am concerned I can't afford to give you
any thing for't, but 1 hope you will do it for
nothing, for

A Poor Man.
New York, Dec. 19, 1774

ON HEARING THAT TIIE POOR MAN WAS TARRED ANT> FEATHERED.

Upon my word it's very hard

A man can't speak his mind.
But he must tarr'd and feather'd be,

And left to north-west wind.

God knows my heart, my neighbours dear,

I meant to serve you all ;
And little did I think or fear

My pride would have such fall.

Oh sad! the toil of many an hour,

One moment can destroy.
How great is inspectioual power,

How vain all human joy.

I meant to serve you all, 'tis true,

With heart, and strength, and might,

Yet selfish hop'd some praise was due
To what I did indite.

Alas ! 'twas all an idle dream,

These tyrants to oppose,
In vain Ave strive against the stream,

They have us by the nose.

Our noses they will grind full well,

On grindstone hard and ruff,
Until we wish them all at h — 11,

And cry, Enuff, enuff.

Ah, where's the man in your defence,

That boldly will arise,
With homely language, downright sense.

To open on your eyes.

Tar, feathers, haunt him day and night.

And check his bold career.
He's not afraid of human wight,

But loves his wife full dear.

Ah, should she view him dress'd in tar,

And feathers, ah so grim.
She'd rage and rave, and storm and swear,

And tear them limb from limb.

Inspectors all, beware, beware,

Come not unto our house.
She'll scratch your eyes, and tear your hair,

And crack you like a louse.

Twould be a shame, a woman poor

Your pow'r should dare oppose,
Kick yon, and cuff you out of door,

As God and nature's foes.

Itivington's New Yo-k Gazette, Thursday,
Dec. 22, 1774

Another, but more vigorous Tory strain, ap-
pears in the same journal a little later. As these
pieces show the spirit of the time, and the activity
of the foe enhances the glory of the conqueror,
we do not scruple to insert them. Each section
of the country seems to have furnished its
quota.

On Calvert's plains new faction reigns,
Great Britain — we defy, Sir ;
True liberty — lies gag'd in chains,
Tho' freedom is the cry, Sir •
The Congress, and their factious tools,
Most wantonly oppress us,
Hypocrisy triumphant rules,
And sorely does distress us.

MO

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

The British bands with glory crown'd,
No longer shall withstand us;
Our martial deeds loud fume shall sound,
Since mad Lee — now commands us :
Triumphant soon, a blow he'll strike,
That all the world shall awe, Sir,
And General Gage, Sir, Perseus-like,
Behind his wheels, — he'll draw, Sir.

"When Gallic hosts, ungrateful men,
Our race meant to exterminate,
Pray, did Committees save us then,

Or H k, or such vermin i

Then' faction spurn, think for yourselves,
Your parent state, believe me,
From real griefs, from factious elves,
Will speedily relieve ye.
Baltimore, Dec. 19.
Contributed by " Agricola" to Rivington's New
York Gazetteer, Thursday, Jan. 6, 1775.

We find in the Penns3-lvania Journal of May
31, 1775, a song, which we have not met in any
other shape, and which well deserves the honor
of a reprint : —

A BONG.

To tlie tune of " The Echoing llorn?
Hark! 'tis Freedom that calls, come, patriots, awake!

To arms, my brave boys, and away:
Tis Honour, 'tis Virtue, 'tis Liberty calls,

And upbraids the too tedious delay.
What pleasure we find in pursuing our foes,

Thro' blood and thro' carnage we'll fly ;
Then follow, we'll soon overtake them, huzza!

The tyrants are seized on, they die.

Triumphant returning with Freedom secur'd,

Like men, we'll be joyful and gay — ■
With our wives and our friends, we'll sport, love,
and drink,

And lose the fatigues of the day.
"Tis freedom alone gives a relish to mirth,

But oppression all happiness sours;
It will smooth life's dull passage, 'twill slope the de-
scent,

And strew the way over with flowers.

A few months later in the same year, we meet
the date, October, 1775, of the composition of one
of the finest and most popular productions of the
war, the " Why should vain mortals tremble ?" of
Nathaniel Niles : — ■

TIEE AMERICAN ITEEO.

A Sapphic ode, written in the time of tlie. American Resolu-
tion, at Norwich) Conn., October, 1775.

Why should vain mortals tremble at the sight of
Death and destruction in the field of battle,
Where blood and carnage clothe the ground in
crimson,

Sounding with death-groans ?

Death will invade us by the means appointed,
And we must all bow to the king of terrors;
Nor am I anxious, if I am prepared.
What shape he comes in.

Infinite Goodness teaches us submission,
Bids us be (juiet under all his dealings;
Never repining, but forever praising
God, our Creator.

Well may we praise him: all his ways are perfect:
Though a resplendence, infinitely glowing,
Dazzles in glory on the sight of mortals,
Struck blind by lustre.

Good is Jehovah in bestowing sunshine,
Nor less his goodness in the storm and thunder,
Mercies and judgment both proceed from kindness,
Infinite kindness.

O, then, exult that God forever reigneth ;
Clouds which, around him. hinder our perception,
Bind us tlie stronger to exalt his name, and ,
Shout louder praises.

Then to the wisdom of my Lord and Master
I will commit all that I have or wish for,
Sweetly as babes' sleep will I give my life up,
When call'd to yield it.

Now, Mars, I dare thee, clad in smoky pillars,
Bursting from bomb-shells, roaring from the cannon,
Rattling in grape-shot like a storm of hailstones,
Torturing ether.

Up the bleak heavens let the spreading flames rise,
Breaking, like JEtnn, through the smoky columns,
Lowering, like Egypt, o'er the falling city,
Wantonly burn'd down.'*

While all their hearts quick palpitate for havoc,
Let slip your blood-hounds, nani'd the British lions;
Dauntless as death stares, nimble as the whirl-wind.

Dreadful as demons!

f

Let oceans waft on all your floating castles,
Fraught with destruction, horrible to nature;
Then, with your sails fi'l'd by a storm of vengeance.
Bear down to battle.

From the dire caverns, made by ghostly miners,
Let the explosion, dreadful as volcanoes,
Heave the broad town, with all its wealth and peo-
ple.

Quick to destruction.

Still shall the banner of the King of neaven
Never advance where I am afraid to follow:
While that precedes me, with an open bosom,
War, I defy thee.

Fame and dear freedom lure me on to battle,
While a fell despot, grimmer than a death's-head,
Stings me with serpents, fiercer than Medusa's,
To the encounter.

Life, for my country and the cause of freedom,
Is but a trifle for a worm to part with ;
And, if preserved in so great a contest,
Life is redoubled.

Nathaniel Niles was a graduate of Pn'noeton
of 17C6 and Master of Arts of Harvard 1772 ; be
settled in Vermont, where he became District
Judge of the United States. He died in West
Fairlee, Vermont, in November, 1828, at the age
•of eighty-six. His grandfather, Samuel Niles,
the minister of Braintree, Ma-s., was an author
of note. He wrote Tristia Ecclesiarwm, an ac-
count of the New England churches in 1745, and
a tract in verse, God's Wonder Working Provi-
dence for New England in (he reduction of Loufs-
lurg, in 1747, also several theological publica-
tions, and a History of the Indian Wars published
in the Massachusetts Historical Collections, dying
in 1702 at the age of eighty-nlne.t

Niles, we learn further, preached occasionally
as a Presbyterian clergyman in Norwich, Conn.,
during the Revolution, where he also established
a wire manufactory, previous to his removal to

* Charlestown, near BostoD.

t Mass. llist. Coil., Tmrd t erics, vi. 154-270. Updike's Nar.
CIj. 37.

BALLAD LITERATURE.

441

the Vermont District.* He was an acute preach-
er; two sermons delivered by him at Tor-
ringford, Oomi., The Perfection of God, the
Fountain of God, and published at Norwich,
" for a number of hearers," fully supporting
a reputation in this particular. There is an
improvement in one of them in an allusion to
Washington which is curious. He is illustrating
the providence of the Deity: "Observe the sun-
beams that shoot by stealth into a darkened room.
There you will see myriads of playing motes.
Can there be any importance in these? Indeed
there can, indeed there is: too much for any
except God to manage. One of these may over-
throw an empire, give the world a. shock, and
extend its influence into eternity. It may fall on
the lungs of some monarch, and occasion great
revolutions in his dominions. It may light on the
e\"e of a David, a Solomon, a Cyrus, an Alex-
ander, bring on an inflammation which may
spread to the other; produce a mortification, first
of those parts, and then of the whole body.
Should this be the ea-<e with the Commander-in-
Chief of the present American forces, what dread-
ful consequences might not follow. Our strength
might give way; our country be subdued; our
religious privileges be wrested from us; super-
stition and idolatry be introduced, and, by and by,
spread from us throughout this continent; and
then spread over the other quarters of the world,
in an heavier cloud than they now lie under."
He also published several other discourses, but he
will be mainly remembered by his American
Hero, a sapphie ode, sung vigorously in Norwich
in the olden time, and still revived, we under-
stand, on certain occasions in New Haven.*

The bombardment of Bristol occurred on the
7th of October, 1775, and the ballad on the sub-
ject wa; written not long after. We extract the
lines from Mrs. Williams's Biography of Barton.
Wallace was the commander of the English
squadron oft' Newport : — ■

THE BOMBARDMENT OF BRISTOL.

The incident which occasioned the following bal-
lad is thus 'described by an eye-witness (whose name
is not given) in a letter to Mrs. Williams.

October 7, 1775, the day when Wallace fired
upon the town of Bristol, I was something over ten
years old, and all the circumstances relating to that
event are fresh in my memory. It was on a plea-
sant afternoon, with a gentle breeze from the south,
that the ships at Newport got under weigh, and stood
up towards Bristol (appearing to us a pretty sight).
The wind being light they did not arrive till sun-
set. Wallace, in the Rose, led the way, run up and
anchored within a cable's length of the wharf. I
think the other ships' names were the Gaspee and
Eskew. The next followed, and anchored one
cable's length to the south. The other one, in en-
deavouring to go further south, grounded on the
middle ground. Besides these, I think there was a
bomb brig and a schooner. The schooner run up
opposite the bridge, and anchored. I was on the
wharf, with hundreds of others, viewing the same,
and suspecting no evil. At eight o'clock the Com-
modore fired a gun. Even then the people felt no
alarm, but in a very short time they began to fire

* History of Norwich. Conn., from its first settlement, in
1660, to January, 1 45, by Miss F. M. Caulkins, p. 298. Doad's
Kevolntionary Memorials, p. 66.

all along the line, and continued to fire for an hour.
The bomb brig threw carcasses, machines made of
iron hoops, and filled with all manner of combusti-
bles, to set fire to the town. They threw them up
nearly perpendicular, with a tremendous tail to
them, and when they fell on the ground they blazed
up many yards high, several of which were put out.
* * * The cowardly, rascal, after firing for an
hour or so, being hailed by one of our citizens,
ceased firing, and a committee from the town went
on board, and his demand on them was a number of
sheep and cattle. I believe they collected a few ;
and the next day, being Sunday, he got under way,
and left us, with a name not yet forgotten. * * *
It is marvellous that there were not more people
killed, as the bridge was crowded with people all
the time of the firing, and the schooner lay within
pistol shot of the bridge, and kept up a constant
fire. The rest of the ships fired grape, round and
double head shot, which were plentifully found
after the firing. * * * The following verses
were made on the occasion : —

In seventeen hundred and seventy-five,
Our Bristol town was much surprised
By a pack of thievish villains,
That will not work to earn their livings.

October 't was the seventh day,
As I have heard the people say,
Wallace, his name be ever curst,
Came on our harbor just at dusk.

And there his ships did safely moor,
And quickly sent his barge on shore,
With orders that should not be broke,
Or they might expect a smoke.

Demanding that the magistrates
Should quickly come on board his ships,
And let him have some sheep and cattle,
Or they might expect a battle.

At eight o'clock, by signal given,
Onr peaceful atmosphere was riven
By British balls, both grape and roun
As plenty afterwards were found.

But oh ! to hear the doleful cries
Of people running for their lives !
Women, with children in their arms,
Running away to the farms !

With all their firing and their skill
They did not any person kill ;
Neither was any person hurt,
But the Reverend Parson Burt.

And he was not killed by a ball,

As judged by jurors one and all ;

But being in a sickly state,

He, frightened, fell, which proved his fate.

Another truth to you I'll tell,
That you may see they levelled well;
For aiming for to kill the people,
They fired their shot into a steeple.

They fired low, they fired high,
The women scream, the children cry;
And all their firing and their racket
Shot off the topmast of a packet.

In relation to the following, we find the
schooner True American, twelve guns, Captain
Daniel Hawthorne, spoken of as in service in
1777 in a list of Salem Privateers, in Joseph B.
Felt's Annals of Salem (Salem, 1849), vol. ii.
268. The ballad is given in McCarthy's Songs, vol.
ii. 250, from R. W. Griswold's manuscript col-

442

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

lection of American Historical Ballads, and is
said to have been taken down "from the mouths
of the surviving shipmates of Hawthorne, who
were accustomed to meet at the office of the
Marine Insurance Company in Salem."

BOLD HAU'lHORNE ; OP. 'THE CBUT3E OF THE FATE AITEEICAN,
COMMANDED BY CAPT. DANIEL IIAWTI10ENE.

Written by the Surgeon of Vie Yeexel.
The twenty-second of August,

Before the close of day,
All hands on board of our privateer,

"We got her under weigh ;
We kept the Eastern shore along,

For forty leagues or more,
Then our departure took for sea,

From the isle of Mauhegnu shore.

Bold Hawthorne was commander,

A man of real worth,
Old England's cruel tyranny

Induced him to go forth ;
She, with relentless fury,

Was plundering all our coast,
And thought, because her strength was great,

Our glorious cause was lost.

Yet boast not, haughty Britons,

Of power and dignity,
By land thy conquering armies,

Thy matchless strength at sea;
Since taught by numerous instances

Americans can fight,
With valour can equip their stand,

Your armies put to flight.

Now farewell to fair America,

Farewell our friends and wives ■
We trust in Heaven's peculiar care,

For to protect their lives ;
To prosper our intended cruise

Upon the raging main,
And to preserve our dearest friends

Till we return again.

The wind it being leading,

It bore us on our way,
As far unto the southward

As the Gulf of Florida;
Where we fell in with a British ship,

Bound homeward from the main ;
We gave her two bow-chasers,

And she return'd the same.

We hauled up our courses,

And so prepared for fight ;
The content held four glasses,

Until the dusk of night ;
Then having sprung our mainmast,

And had so large a sea.
We dsoppM astern and left our chase

Till the returning day.

Next morn we fish'd our mainmast,

The ship still being nigh,
All hands made for engaging

Our chance once move to try;
But wind and sea being boisterous

Our cannon would not bear,
We thought it quite imprudent

And so we left her there.

We cruised to the eastward,

Near the coast of Portugal,
In longitude of twenty -seven

We saw a lofty sail ;
We gave her chase, and soon perceived

She was a British snow

Standing for fair America,

With troops for General Howe.

Our captain did inspect her

With glasses, and he said,
"My boys, she means to fight us,

But be you not aft aid ;
All hands repair to quarters,

See evcrj- tiling is clear,
We'll give her a bioadside, my boys,

As soon as she comes near."

She was prepared with nettings,

And her men were well secured,
And bore directly for us,

And put us close on board ;
When the cannon roar'd like thunder,

And the muskets fired amain,
But soon we were alongside

And grappled to her chain.

And now the scene it alter'd.

The cannon ceased to roar,
We fought with swords and boarding-pikes

One glass or somethii g more,
Till British pride and glory

No longer dared to stay,
But cut the Yankee giapplings,

And quickly bore away.

Our case was not so desperate

As plainly might appear ;
Yet sudden death did enter

On board our privateer.
Mnhoney, Crew, and Clemmons,

The valiant and the brave,
Fell glorious in the contest,

And met a watery grave.

Ten other men were wounded

Among our warlike crew,
With them our noble captain,*

To whom all praise is due ;
To him and all our officers,

Let's give a hearty cheer ;
Success to fair America

And our good privateer!

Joseph Warren contributed by his voice and
pen, as well as his sword, to the progress of the
American cause. He delivered in 1772- and 1775
orations on the Boston Massacre, the second of
which was pronounced in defiance of the threats
of the soldiery of the garrison, who lined the
pulpit stairs. Warren, to avoid confusion, en-
tered by the window in the rear. The address
was an animated and vigorous performance. The
interest it excited out of Boston may be gathered
from the abusive account of its delivery in
Rivington's Gazette, March 1 ♦ •_ 1775, an amusing
specimen of the style of writing in that peri-
odical.!

On Monday, the 5th instant, the Old South Meet-
ing-house being crowded with mobility and fame,
the selectmen, with Adams, Church and Hancock,
Cooper and others, assembled in the pulpit, which
was covered with black, and we all sat gaping at
one another, above an hour, expecting! At last, a
single horse chair stopped at the apothecary's, oppo-
site the meeting, from which descended the orator
(Warren) of the day, and, entering the shop, was
followed by a servant with a bundle, in which were
the Ciceronian toga, etc

Having robed himself, he proceeded across the

* Hawthorne was wono/ed in tli ■ h*?ad by a mnsket ball.
+ Quoted in Lorillg^s Hundred liuston Orators, p. 60.

BALLAD LITERATURE.

443

street to the meeting, and, being received into the
pulpit, he was announced by one of his fraternity
to be the person appointed to declaim on the occa-
sion. He then put himself into a Demosthenian
posture, with a white handkerchief in his right
hand, and his left in his breeches, — began and ended
without action. He was applauded by the mob,
but groaned at by people of understanding. One of
the pulpiteers (Adams) then got up and proposed
the nomination of another to speak next year on the
bloody massacre, — the first time that expression was
made to the audience, — when some officers cried, O
fie, fie ! The gallcrians, apprehending tire, bounded
out of the windows, and swarmed down the gutters
like rats, into the street. The 43 I regiment, return-
ing accidentally from exercise, with drums beating,
threw the whole body into the greatest consterna-
tion. There were neither pageantry, exhibitions,
processions, or bells tolling, as usual, but the night
was remarked for being the quietest these many
months past.

"Warren wrote for the newspapers in favor of
freedom, and turned his poetical abilities in the
same direction. His Free America, written pro-
bably not long before his lamented death, shows
that he possessed facility as a versifier.

FREE AMEEICA.

Tune — " British Grenadiers"
That Beat of science, Athens,

And earth's proud unstress, Rome ;
Where now are all their glories '!

We scarce can find a tomb.
Then guard your rights, Americans,

Nor stoop to lawless sway ;
Oppose, oppose, oppose, oppose,

For North America.

We led fair Freedom hither, '

And lo, the desert smiled 1
A paradise of pleasure

Was opened in the wild!
Your harvest, bold Americans,

No power shall snatch away !
Huzza, huzza, huzza, huzza,

For free America.

Torn fi'om a world of tyrants,

Beneath this western sky,
We formed a new dominion,

A land of liberty :
The world shall own we're masters here ;

Then hasten on the day :
Huzza, huzza, huzza, huzza,

For free America.

Proud Albion bow'd to Cesar,

And numerous lords before;
To Picts, to Danes, to Normans,

And many masters more:
But we can boast, Americans,

We've never fallen a prey;
Huzza, huzz,i, huzza, huzza,

For free America.

God bless this maiden climate,

And through its vast domain
May hosts of heroes cluster,

Who scorn to wear a chain :
And blast the venal sycophant

That dares our rights betray ;
Huzza, huzrza, huzza, huzza,

For free America.

Lift up your hands, ye heroes,
And swear with proud disdain,

The wretch that would ensnare you,

Shall lay his snares in vain :
Should Europe empty all her force,

We'll meet her in array,
And fight and shout, and shout and fight

For North America.

Come future day shall crown us,

The masters of the main.
Our fleets shall speak in thunder

To England, France, and bpain;
And the nations over the ocean spread

Shall tremble and obey
The sons, the sons, the sons, the sons

Of brave America.

A pamphlet collection of Poems upon Seve-
ral Occasions, printed in Boston, 17-99, opens
with a ballad of a simple earnest feeling, which,
in reviewing the early incidents of the war, gives
an account of the deatli of Warren, of value as
a probably contemporary testimony.*

A POEM, CONTAINING SOME REMARKS ON THE PRESENT
WAR, ETC.

Britons grown big with" pride

And wanton ease,
And tyranny beside,

They sought to please
Their craving appetite;
They strove with all their might,
They vow'd to rise and fight,
To make us bow.

The plan they laid was deep,

Even like hell ;
With sympathy I weep,

While here I tell
Of that base murderous brood,
Void of the fear of Go 1,
Who came to spill our blood
In our own land.

They bid their armies sail

Through billows' roar,
And take the first fair gale

For Boston's shore ;
They cross'd the Atlantic sea
A long and watery way,
Poor Boston fell a prey
To tyranny.

They felt proud tyrants' rage

And cruelty,
A monster of a Gage

There passing by,
With every trap and snare.
Whose oaths did taint the air;
The illustrious city fair
Was in distress.

No pen can fully write,

Nor tongue express,
Nor heart that can indite

The wickedness
Of tiiat army so base ;
Void of all fear and grace,
Infesting of that place
On every side.

* Poems npon Several Occasions, viz. : — 1. A Poom on the
Enemy's first coming to Boston: the Burning of Charlestown;
the fight at Bunker-Hill, &c. 2. The Widow's Lamentation.
8. Nebuchadnezzar's Dream. 4. Against Oppression. 5. An

Heroic Poem on the taking of General Burgoyne, &c.

Shall every sense of Virtue sleep, and every talent lie buried
in the Earth, when subjects of such importance call for them
to be improved ?

Boston : Printed for the Author. 1799.

444

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

The harbour was block'd up

No ship coulil sail ;
Our fishery was stopt,

A doleful tale !
Of tyrants' cruelty ;
Their banners lifted high,
Made sons of freedom cry
Unto their God.

The Congress that we chose

Bid us unite,
And to withstand our foes,

For freedom fight ;
They bid us ready stand,
Fight for our fathers' land,
Though we a feeble band,
Lid us not fear.

With great reluctancy

We ready stood,
And with our spirits high,

Trusting in God ;
Our prayers did ascend,
That lie would be our friend,
That he would us defend
In troubles great.

But oh! when cruel Gage

Lid see that we
Would not bow to his rage

And tyranny ;
Did fortify most strong,
His guards were stretcli'd along
A base and brutish throng,
Of British troops.

Gage wns both base and mean,

He dare not fight ;
The men he sent were seen

Like owls in night.

It was in Lexington,

Where patriots' blood did run

Before the rising sun

In crimson gore.

Here sons of freedom fell

Rather than flee,
Unto those brutes of hell

They fell a prey ;
But they shall live again,
Their names shall rise and reign
Among the noble slain
In all our land.

But oh ! this cruel foe

Went on in haste,
To Concord they did go,

And there did waste
Some stores in their rage,
To gratify old Gage,
His name in every page
Shall be defam'd.

Their practice thus so base

And murder too,
Rous'd up the patriot race,

Who did pursue,
And put this foe to flight,
They could not bear the light,
Some rue'd the very night
They left their den.

And now this cruelty

Was spread abroad,
The sons of liberty

This act nbliorr'd ;
Their noble blood did boil,
Forgetting all the toil,
In troubles they could smile,
And went in haste.

Our army willingly

Did then engage
To stop the cruelty

Of tyrants' rage.
They did not fear our foe,
But ready were to go,
And let the tyrants know
Whose sons they were.

But when old Gage did see

All us withstand,
And strive for liberty

Through all our land,
He strove with all his might,
For rage was his delight,
With fire he did fight,
A monster he.

On Charlestown he display'd

His fire abroad ;
He it in ashes laid,

An act abhoir'd
By sons of liberty —
Who saw the flames on high
Piercing their native sky,
And now Lies waste.

To Bunker-hill they came

Most rapidly,
And many there were slain,

And there did die.
They call'd it bloody hill,
Although they gain'd their will
In triumph they were still,
'Cause of their slain.

Here sons of freedom fought

Right manfully ;
A wonder here was wrought,

Though some did die.
Here Waiiren bow'd to death
His last expiring breath,
In language mild he saith —
Fight on, brave boys.

Oh ! this did stain the pride

Of British troops ;
They saw they were deny'd

Of their vain hopes
Of marching thro' our land,
When twice a feeble band
Did fight, and boldly stand
In our defence.

Brave Washington did come

To our relief ;
He left his native home,

Filled with grief ;
He did not covet gain,
The cause he would maintain
And die among tlie slain
Rather than flee.

His bosom glow'd with love

For liberty ;
His passions much did move

To orphans' cry.
He let proud tyrants know,
How far their bounds should go,
And then his bombs did throw
Into their den.

This frighted them full sore
When bombs were sent,

When cannon loud did roar
They left each tent;

Oh! thus did the tyrants fly,

Went precipitately,

Their shipping being nigh,
They sailed off.

BALLAD LITERATURE.

445

And now Boston is free

From tyrants ba9e ;
The sons of liberty

Possess the place ;
They now in safety dwell,
Free from those brutes of hell,
Their raptured tongues do tell
Their joys great.

But they must try again

Us to undo;
Their fleets have cross'd the main

And do pursue. •
They've come in mighty haste
To lay our country waste,
The Southern States must taste
Of tyrants' rage.

Britons and Hessian troops,

A brutish throng,
To prosecute their hopes

They've sail'd along;
The Tories ask'd them o'er,
To come and try once more,
Some landed on the shore
Near Charleston bar.

Brave Charleston was prepar'd

For this brave foe ;
A fortress they had rear'd

To let them know
That freedom's cause was good,
They would resist for blood,
And" manfully withstood,

And drubb'd them welL

Oh ! here Parker was beat

Right manfully;
And with his scatter'd fleet

With wounded's cry:
His ammunition fail'd,
He took the first fair gale,
With scarce a must or sail
To join old Howe.

Howe's fleet cover'd the sea

Near New York shore
And very subtle he

To try once more ;
Here Tories join'd our foe,
As base as hell below,
Who did our shores know,
Help'd them to land.

But oh ! the bloody scene

I now will write ;
Long Island I do mean,

Where was the fight,
Where our brave men did die,
Fighting for liberty,
No succor could come nigh
For their relief

Here valiant men did bleed,

And fell a prey ;
Here tyrants did succeed

And win the day ;
It was by Tories' art,
Who took the tyrants' part
We yet do feel the smart
Of that base crew.

Brave Washington did say,

Ahis! good God,
Brave men I've lost to-day,

They're in their blood.
His grief he did express
To see them in distress,
His tears and hands witness
He lov'd his men.

And then he thought best

To leave that place,
Thau there to stand the test

With men so base.
He was wise and discreet,
He bid his men retreat,
Go farther from the fleet,
So left New York.

Du Simitiere's volume of poetical selections in
MS., to which we have frequently expressed our
obligations, furnishes us with some lively verses
for the outset of 1776, which are there entitled

Parody by John Tabor Kemp, Attorney-General of New
York, to welcome Cortland Skinner, Attorney- General of

New Jersey, on board of the Asm Man-of- War, at New York,
Feb., 177C.

Welcome, welcome, brother Tory,

To this merry floating place;
I came here a while before you ;

Coming here is no disgrace.
Freedom finds a safe retreat here,

On the bosom of the waves ;
You she now invites to meet her.

Welcome, then, thou Tory brave.

n.

As you serve, like us, the King, sir,

In a hammock you must lay ;
Better far 'tis so to swing, sir,

Thau to swing another way.
Tho' we've not dry land to walk on,

The quarter deck is smooth to tread :
Hear how fast, while we are talking,

Barrow* trips it over head.

Should vile Whigs come here to plunder,

Quick we send them whence they came ;
They'd soon hear the Asia thunder,

And the Phoenix in a flame.
Neptune's gallant sons befriend us,

While at anchor here we ride;
Britain's wooden walls defend us,

Britain's glory and her pride.

In 1776, appeared The Fall of British Tyranny :
or American Liberty Triumphant, — The First
Campaign ; a Tragi-Comedy of five acts, as lately
planned at the Royal Theatrum Pandemonium,
at St. James'. Phila. 8vo. pp.66. It is one of
several dramatic satires, like the Group of Mrs.
Warren, which appeared during the war. We
present a portion of

THE DEDICATION.

To Lord Boston, and the Remnant of the Actors,
Merry-Andrews, and Strolling Players in Boston,
Lord Kidnapper, and the rest of the Pirates and
Buccaneers, and the innumerable and never-ending
Clan of Macs and Donalds upon Donalds, in
America :

My Lords and Gentlemen,

Understanding you are vastly fond of plays and
farces, and frequently exhibit them for your own
amusement, and the laudable purpose of ridiculing
your masters (the Yankees, as you call 'em), it was
expected you would have been polite enough to
have favoured the world, or America at least (at

* The deputy paymaster jrener.il of the King's army, that
has also fled on board of the Asia, and continually walks tho
quarter. deck.

416

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

■whose expence you act them) with some of your
play-bills, or with a sample of your conipositioo.

* * * * *- * *-

This is signed "Dick Pufle," and is followed by
a prose preface, and this by

THE GODDESS OP LIBERTY.

Hail ! patriots, hail ! by me inspired be!

Speak boldly, think and act for Liberty,

United sons, America's choice band,

Ye patriots firm, ye sav'ours of the land.

Hail!' patriots, hail ! rise with the rising sun,

Nor quit your labour, till the work be done.

Ye early risers in your country's cause,

Shine forth at noon, for Liberty and Laws,

Build a stro g tow'r, whose fabric may endure

Firm as a rock from tyranny secure.

Yet would you build my fabric to endure,

Be your hearts warm — but let your hands be pure,

Never to shine yourselves, your country sell;

But think you nobly, while in place act well.

Let no self-ser\ter general trust betray,

No pique, no party, bar the public way.

Front an arm'd world, with union on your side :

No foe shall shake you, — if no friends divide.

At night repose, and sweetly take your rest;

None sleeps so sound as those by conscience blest :

May martyr'd patriots whisper in your ear,

To tread the paths of virtue without fear ;

May pleasing visions charm your patriot eyes,

While Freedom's sons shall hail you b'.est and wise.

Hail! my hist hope, she cries, inspir'd by me,

Wish, write, talk, fight, and die — for Liberty !

The characters of the play consist of the
leading statesmen of England, who are intro-
duced under descriptive names, Bute being Lord
Paramount, Mansfield Lord Mocklaw, &c. ; Gage
figures us Lord Boston, and Washington, Lee,
and Putnam appear in propria persona. The
: scene is laid in England, and at Lexington and
Bunker's Hill. The dialogue is in pro.e and
somewhat stiff. The following song is sung by
one of two shepherds, near Lexington, who have
a discussion of public affairs " after the defeat
and flight of the Regulars." Roger says, " This is
the First of May ; our shepherds and nymphs are
celebrating our glorious St. Tammany's day;
we'll hear the song out, and then join in the
frolic, and chorus it o'er and o'er again. This
day shall be devoted to joy and festivity."

SONG.

Tune. — " The Hounds arc all out."

Of St. George, or St. Bute, let the poet laureat sing,

Of Pharaoh or Pluto of old,

AVhile he rhimes forth their praise, in false flattering

lays,
I'll sing of St. Tamm'ny the bold, my brave boys.

Let Hibernia's sons boast, make Patrick their toast,
And Scots Andrew's fame spread abroad ;
Potatoes and oats, and Welch leeks for Welch goats,
Was never St. Tammany's food, my brave boys.

In freedom's bright cause, Tamm'ny pled with ap-
plause,
And reason'd most justly from nature ;
For this was his song, all, all the day long;
Liberty's the right of each creature, brave boys.

Whilst under an oak his great parliament sat,
His throne was the crotch of the tree ;
With Solomon's look, without statutes or book,
He wisely sent forth his decree, my brave boys.

v.

His subjects stood round, not the least noise or sound,
Whilst freedom blaz'd full in each face ;
So plain were the laws, and each pleaded his cause,
That might Bute, North, and Mansfield disgrace, mj
brave boys.

VI.

No duties, nor stamps, their blest liberty cramps,
A king, though no tyrant was he ;
He did ofttimes declare, nay sometimes would swear
The least of his subjects were free, my brave boys.

VII.

He, as king of the woods, of the rivers and floods,
Had a right all beasts to control ;
Yet, content with a few, to give nature her due;
So geu'rous was Tammany's soul, my brave boys.

VIII.

In the morn he arose, and a hunting he goes,
Bold Nimrod his second was he.
For his breakfast he'd take a large venison steak,
And despis'd your slip-slops and tea, my brave boys

IX

While all in a row, with squaw, dog and bow,
Vermillion adorning his face,
With feathery head he ra: g'd the woods wide:
St. George sure had never such grace, my brave
boys.

x.

His jetty black hair, such as Buckskin saints wear,
Perfumed with bear's grease well smear'd,
Which illum'd the saint's face, and ran down apace,
Like the oil from Aaron's old beard, my brave boys.

XL

The strong nervous deer, with amazing career,
In swiftness he'd fairly run down ;
And, like Sampson, wou'd tear wolf, lion or bear,
Ne'er was such a saint as our own, my brave boys.

XII.

When he'd run down a stag, he behind him would

lag,
For, so noble a soul had he;
He'd stop, tlio' he lost it. tradition reports it,
To give him fresh chance to get free, my brave

boys.

xm.

With a mighty strong arm, and a masculine bow,
His arrow he drew to the head,
And as sure as he shot, it was ever his lot,
His prey it fell instantly dead, my brave boys.

xrv."

His table he spread where the venison bled,

Be thankful, he used to say ;

He'd laugh and he'd sing, tho' a saint and a king,

And sumptuously dine on his prey, my brave boys.

Then over the hills, o'er the mountains and rills,

He'd caper, such was his delight ;

And ne'er in his days, Indian history says,

Did lack a good supper at night, my brave boys.

XVI.

On an old stump he sat, without cap or hat,
When supper was ready to eat,

BALLAD LITERATURE.

U7

Snap, his do;*, he stood by, and cast a sheep's eye ;
For veii'son, the king of all meat, my brave boys.

xvn.
Like Isaac of old, and both cast in one mould,
Tho' a wigwam was Tamm'ny's cottage,
lie lov'd sav'ry meat, such that patriarch eat,
Of ven'son and squirrel made pottage, brave boys.

As old nge came on, he grew blind, deaf and dumb,

Tho' his sport, 'twere hard to keep from it,

Quite tired of life, bid adieu to his wife,

And blaz'd like the tail of a comet, brave boys.

xx.

What country on earth, thea, did ever give birth,

To such a magnanimous sai-it 'i

His acts far excel all that history tell,

And language too feeble to paint, my brave boys.

XXI.

Now, to finish my song, a full flowing bowl

I'll quaff, and sing all t!ie long day,

And with punch and wine paint my cheeks for my

saint,
And hail ev'ry first of sweet May, my brave boys.

Wo have next to present a poem, which,
though dated from a distant city, has the true
home spirit of the time.

To ilce tune of li Smile Britannia."
Rise, rise, bright genius rise,

Conduct thy sons to war ;
Thy spear pois'd to the skies,

Whirl, whirl thy rapid car ;
Fire each firm breast with noble zeal,
To conquer for the common weal.

For years the iron rod

Has hover'd o'er our heads,
Submit to George's nod,

Whose power all Europe dreads;
The slavish minion cries.
But Freedom's sons all fears despise.

All means for peace we've tried,
But found those measures vain ;

North's ministerial pride

Thought fear made us complain.

But in the end, convinc'd he'll see,

We dread not death, but slavery.

Tho' fatal lust of pow'r

Has steel'd the tyrant's soul ;
Though in an ill-tim'd hour

He bids his thunders roll,
Great Liberty, inspired by thee,
We fly to death or victory.

Great Nature's law inspires,

And free-born souls unite,
While common interest fires

Us to defend our right
Against corruption's boundless claim,
And firmly fix great Freedom's reigu

They foreign troops employ,

For merce lary hire ;
Their weakness we enjoy,

Each pulse new ardors fire,
Convine'd the wretch who fights for pay.
Will never bear the palm away.

They boast their power by sea,

The ruin of our trade ;
Our navy soon they'll see,

Wide o'er the ocean spread ;

Britain not long shall boast her reign
O'er the wide empire of the main.

Throughout the universe

Our commerce we'll extend,
Each power on the reverse

Shall seek to be our friend,
Whilstour sons crown'd with wealth immense,
Sing Washington and Common Sense.
Bordeaux, July 1, 1776.
Freeman's Journal, or New Hampshire Gazette,
Oct. 2'J 177S.

The poets seem to have felt the spur of the
passage of the Declaration of Independence, and
the newspaper corners of the time abound with
patriotic lines. We select two, which we havo
not found in any reprinted form.

ON independence.

Come all you brave soldiers, both valiant and free,
It's for Independence we all now agree,

Let us gird on our swords, and prepare to defend
Our liberty, property, ourselves and our friends.

In a cause that's so righteous, come let us agree,
And from hostile invaders set America free ;

The cause is so glorious we need not to fear

But from merciless tyrants we'll set ourselves clear.

Heaven's blessing attending us, no tyrant shall say
That Americans e'er to such monsters gave way ;

But, fighting, we'll die in America's cause,
Before we'll submit to tyrannical laws.

George the Third, of Great Britain, no more shall
he reign,

With unlimited sway o'er these free states again ;
Lord North, tun- old Bute, nor none of their clan,

Shall ever be honor'd by an American.

May heaven's blessing descend on our United States,
And grant that the union may never abate ;

May love, peace and harmony ever be found
For to go hand in hand America round.

Upon our grand Congress, may heaven bestow
Both wisdom and skill our good to pursue ;

On heaven alone depeude it we'll be,

But from all earthly tyrants we mean to be free.

Unto our brave generals may heaven give skill,
Our armies to guide and the sword for to wield;

May their hands taught to war and their fingers it
fight,
Be able to put British armies to flight.

And now, brave Americans, since it is so,

That we are independent we'll have them to
know,
That united we are, and united we'll be,

And from all British tyrants we'll try to keep
free.

May heaven -smile on us in all our endeavours,'
Safe guard our sea-ports, our towns and our
rivers ;
Keep us from invaders, by land and by sea,
And from all who'd deprive us of our liberty.
Freeman's Journal, or New Hampshire Gazette,
August 17, 1776.

A continuation of Hudibras, in Two Cantos,
written in the time of the Unhappy Contest be-
tween Great Britain and America, in 1777 and
1778, published in London in the latter year, con-
tains a parody, with comments, on the Declara-
tion of Independence, and may with propriety bo
inserted here. We are without clue, to the
name or place of nativity of the author, but
it is probably an American production.

.443

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAS" LITERATURE

When in the course of human tilings,

All subjects may desert their kings,

And thus becoming disaffected,

Break bonds by which they were connected;

Assuming 'mougst the powers on earth

An equal rank, to which their birth,

The laws of heav'n and of nature,

Intitle every humau creature,

Respect when men are thus inclin'd,

For the opinions of mankind,

Requires they should the causes tell,

That have induc'd them to rebel.

First, let this downright maxim strike,

That all men are bora free alike,

And are undoubtedly allow'd.

By Providence to be endow'd

(As many a learned author writes)

With some unalienable rights ;

'Mong these we lay the greatest stress,

On life, pursuit of happiness,

And (what is best of all the three)

Of uncontrolled liberty.

For surely no one can believe,

But he's a certain right to live,

Without receiving cheek or stop here,

As long as ever he think proper:

Neither is life like chair or table,

.To one another alienable,

Neither can any mortal have, .

The right to make himself a slave

(Although by thieving we must say

Some people do it ev'ry day) :

Neither can any one entrap ye,

From the just right of being happy

(Tho' your chief happiness in life,

Should be to kiss your neighbour's wife).

To keep these rights by their consents,

Men instituted governments ;

And should they afterwards be tir'd,

Of systems that the world admir'd,

The people have a right t' abolish,

Alter, relinquish, and demolish,

By methods novel and surprising,

New states and powers organizing,

In such a form and figure diest,

As the wise authors shall think best.

Prudence indeed might plainly dictate,

(To any but a dull and thick pate)

That governments establish 'd ancient,

Should not be chang'd for causes transient, —

And therefore all experience shews.

That men would rather something lose,

Than to be rash, — because they're strong,

And right themselves by doing wrong.—

But when we had refused assent,

To British acts of parliament,

(Tho' bulwarks of the constitution)

And stuck to this our resolution

When we determined to be free,

And seiz'd on other people's tea,

Tarring and feathering ev'ry fool,

That spoke in favour of good rule ;

Broke up the courts of law and justice,

(For in ourselves — our hope and trust is)

Forcing from every one — concession,

To things of which we made profession,

And setting those we could not guide,

To ride upon a stick — astride,

Because we plainly saw designs,

To catch us in despotic mines ;

When after thin — the plans absurd,

Of that harsh tyrant George the Third.

Under a notion of expedience,

To bring us to a due obedience,

Pursued thro' regular gradation,

Of great abuse and usurpation,
Prove an invariable design,
Our liberties to undermine,
A resolution to betray,
And rule us by despotic sway ;
It is our right and our intent,
To throw off such a government,
Whilst other methods may be tried,
For future safety to provide.

During the winter which followed the battle
of Trenton occurred. We have a ballad in its
honor.

BATTLE OF TKENTOI*.

On Christmas day in '76, .

Our rugged troops with bayonets fix'd,
For Trenton marched away.

The Delaware see, the boats below,
The light obscured by hail and snow,
But no symptoms of dismay.

Our object waj the Plessian band,
That dared to invade fair freedom's land,
And quarter in that place.

Great Washington he led us on,
With ensigns streaming with renown,
Which ne'er had known disgrace.

In silent march we pass'd the night,
Each soldier panting for the fig'it, .
Though quite benumb'd with frost.
Greene on the left, at six began,
The right was with brave Sullivan,
Who in battle no time lost.

Their pickets storm'd, the alarm was spread,
That rebels risen from the dead
Were marching into town.

Some scamper'd here, some scamper'd there.
And some for action did prepare,
But soon their arms laid down.

Twelve hundred servile miscreants,
With all their colours, guns, and tents,
Were trophies of the day :

The frolic o'er, the blight canteen,
In centre, front, and rear was seen
Driving fatigue away.

Now, brothel's of the patriot bands,
Let's sing our safe deliverance
From arbitrary sway.

And as life you know is but a span,
Let's touch the tankard while we can,
In memory of the day.*

One of the patriotic productions of the same
year was a poem, in a pamphlet of fifteen pages,
commenting in a severe but not equally forcible
style on the conduct of Lord North. We quote
the title-page, confident that the reader will not
" ask for more."

The Continental Key of the Liberties of America;
in three parts.

Perhaps the critics of the age,

May find a fault in ev'ry page,

Or yet, perhaps, in ev'ry line,

Well, they have their faults, I have mine.

If any man should ask the price,

One or two shillings take your choice,

Sometimes true Whigs have given twenty,

But Tories think that five is plenty.

New York, printed for Elijah Weige, 1776.

* MeCarty's Songs, i. 24

BALLAD LITERATURE.

449

We are indebted to the Curiosities of American
Literature, by R. W. Griswold, printed as an
Appendix to a reprint (New York, 1843) of
Disraeli's Curiosities, for two spirited produc-
tions on the defeat of Burgoyne.

THE FATE OF JOHN BTTRGOTNTJ..

When Jack the king's commander

"Was going to his duty,
Through all the crowd he smiled and bow'd

To every blooming beauty.

The city rung with feats he'd done

In Portugal and Flanders,
And all the town thought he'd be crown'd

The first of Alexanders.

To Hampton Court he first repairs

To kiss great George's hand, sirs ;
Then to harangue on state affairs

Before he left the laud, sirs.

The " Lower House" sat mute as mouse

To hear his grand oration ;
And " all the peers," with loudest cheers,

Proclaimed him to the nation.

Then off he went to Canada,

Next to Ticonderoga,
And quitting those away he goes

Straightway to Saratoga.

With great parade his march he made

To gain his wished-for station,
While far and wide his minions hied

To spread his " Proclamation."

To such as staid he offers made

Of " pardon on submission ;
But savage bands should waste the lands

Of all in opposition."

But ah, the cruel fates of war 1

This boasted son of Britain,
When mounting his triumphal car

With sudden fear was smitten.

The sons of Freedom gathered round,

His hostile bands confounded,
And when they'd fain have turn'd their back

They found themselves surrounded !

In vain they fought, in vain they fled,

Their chief, humane and tender,
To save the rest soon thought it best

His forces to surrender.

Brave St. Clair, when he first retired

Knew what the fates portended;
And Arnold and heroic Gates

His conduct have defended.

Thus may America's brave sons

With honour be rewarded,
And be the fate of all her foes

The same as here recorded.

TUB NORTH CAMPAIGN.

Come unto me, ye heroes,

Whose hearts are true and bold,
Who value more your honour

Than others do their gold ;
Give ear unto my story,

And I the truth will tell
Concerning many a soldier,

Who for his country fell.

Burgoyne, the king's commander,

From Canada set sail
With full eight thousand reg'lars,

He thought he could not fail ;
vol. I. — 29

With Indians and Canadians,
And his cursed Tory crew,

On board his fleet of shipping
He up the Champlain flew.

Before Ticonderoga,

The first day of July,
Appear'd his ships and army,

And we did them espy.
Their motions we observed

Full well both night and day,
And our brave boys prepared

To have a bloody fray.

Our garrison they viewed them,

As straight their troops did land,
And when St. Clair, our chieftain,

The fact did understand
That they the Mount Defiance

Were bent to fortify,
He found we must surrender,

Or else prepare to die.

The fifth day of July, then,

He order'd a retreat,
And when next morn we started,

Burgoyne thought we were beat.
And closely he pursued us,

Till when near Hubbardton,
Our rear guards were defeated,

He thought the country won.

And when 't was told in Congress,

That we our forts had left,
To Albany retreated,

Of all the North bereft.
Brave General Gates they sent us,

Our fortunes to retrieve,
And him with shouts of gladness

The army did receive.

Where first the Mohawk's waters

Do in the sunshine play,
For Herkimer's brave soldiers

Bellinger* ambush'd lay ;
And thein he there defeated,

But soon he had his due,
And seared f by Brooks and Arnoid.

He to the North withdrew.

To take the stores and cattle

That we had gather'd then,
Burgoyne sent a detachment

Of fifteen hundred men ;
By Baum they were commanded,

To Bennington they went;
To plunder and to murder

Was fully their intent.

But little did they know then,

With whom they had to deal ;
It was not quite so easy

Our stores and stock to steal :
Bold Starke would give them only

A portion of his lead ;
With half his crew ere sunset

Baum lay among the dead.

The nineteenth of September,
The morning cool and clear,

Brave Gates rode through our army,
Each soldier's heart to cheer ;

* St. Leger.

f A man employed by the British as a spy, was taken by
Arnold, and at the suggestion of Colonel Brooks sent back to
St. Leger with such deceptive accounts of the strength of the
Americans as induced him to retreat towards Montreal.

450

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

" Burgoyne," he cried, " advances,
But we will never fly ;
No — rather than surrender,
We'll fight him till we die."

The news was quickly brought us,

The enemy was near,
And all along our lines then,

There was no sign of fear ;
It was above Stillwater

We met at noon that day,
And every one expected

To see a bloody fray.

Six hours the battle lasted,

Each heart was true as gold,
The British fought like lions,

And we like Yankees bold ;
The leaves with blood were crimson,

And then brave Gates did cry —
" Tis diamond now cut diamond !

We'll beat them, boys, or die."

The darkness soon approaching,

It forced us to retreat
Into our lines till morning,

Which made them think us beat;
But ere the sun was risen,

They saw before their eyes
Us ready to engage them,

Which did them much surprise.

Of fighting they seem'd weary,

Therefore to work they go
Their thousand dead to bury,

And breastworks up to throw :
With grape and bombs intending

Our army to destroy,
Or from our works our forces

By stratagem decoy.

The seventh day of October,

The British tried again, —
Shells from their cannon throwing

Which fell on us like rain, —
To drive us from our stations

That they might thus retreat;
For now Burgoyne saw plainly

He never us could beat.

But vain was his endeavour

Our men to terrify ;
Though death was all around us,

Not one of us would fly.
But when an hour we'd fought them,

And they began to yield,
Along our lines the cry ran,
" The next blow wins the field !"

Great God, who guides their battles

Whose cause is just and true,
Inspired our bold commander

The course he should pursue.
He order'd Arnold forward,

And Brooks to follow on ;
The enemy were routed

Our liberty was won !

Then, burning all their luggage,

They fled with haste and fear,
Burgoyne with all his forces

To Saratogue did steer ;
And Gates our brave commander,

Soon after him did hie,
Resolving lie would take them

Or in the effort die.

As we came nigh the village,
We overtook the foe;

They'd burn'd each house to ashes,

Like all where'er they go.
The seventeenth of October,

They did capitulate —
Burgoyne and his proud army

Did we our pris'ners make.

Now here's a health to Arnold,

And our commander Gates ;
To Lincoln and to Washington,

Whom ev'ry Tory hates ;
Likewise unto our Congress,

God grant it long to reign,
Our Country, Right and Justice

For ever to maintain.

Now finish'd is my story,

My song is at an end ;
The freedom we're enjoying

We're ready to defend ;
For while our cause is righteous,

Heaven nerves the soldier's arm,
And vain is their endeavour

Who strive to do us harm.

To these we may add a third on the same sub-
jeet, from MoCarty's National Song Book.

THE PROGRESS OF SIR JACK BRAG.

Said Burgoyne to his men, as they pass'd in review,

Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo, boys !
These rebels their course very quickly will rue,
And fly as the leaves 'fore the autumn tempest flew,
When him, who is your leader, they know,
boys !
They with men have now to deal,
And we soon will make them feel —
Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo, boys !
That a loyal Briton's arm, and a loyal Briton's steel,
Can put to flight a rebel, as quick as other foe,
boys !
Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo—
Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo-o-o-o, boys !

As to Sa-ra-tog' lie came, thinking how to jo the
game,
Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo, boys !
He began to sec the grubs, in the branches of his

fame,
He began to have the trembles, lest a flash should
be the flame,
For which he had agreed his perfume to forego,
boys !
No lack of skill, but fates,
Shall make us yield to Gates,
Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo, boys !
The devils may have leagued, as you know, with
the States,
But we never will be beat by any mortal foe,

boys !
Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo —
Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo-o-o-o, boys !

Burgoyne, like Andre, amused himself with
literature. He was the author of four five-act
plays, three of which, The Maid of the Oaks, The
Lord of the Manor, and The Heiress, are comedies.
The fourth, Richard CiBnr de Lion, is an " His-
torical Romance," from the French of M. Sedaine.
The four were published with a few miscellaneous
poems, and a Life of the Author, in two volumes,
8vo. London, 1808. The comedies are in prose,
interspersed with songs, and were acted by the

BALLAD LITERATURE.

451

British officers in garrison at Boston and New
York.* They possess little merit. We give the

PROLOGUE TO ZAEA.

Spoken by Lord Raicdon, at Boston.
In Britain once (it stains the historic page)
Freedom was vital-struck by party rage: ,
Cromwell the fever watch'd, the knife supplied,
She madden'd, and by suicide she died.
Amidst the groans Bunk every liberal art
That polishM life, or humanized the heart ;
Then fell the st:ige, quell'd by the bigots' roar,
Truth fell with sense, and Shakspeare charm' d no
more.

To sooth the times too nrueh resembling those,
And lull the care-tir'd thought, this stage arose;
Proud if you hear, rewarded if you're pleased,
We come to minister to minds diseased.
To you, who, guardians of a nation's cause,
Unsheath the sword to vindicate her laws,
The tragic scene holds glory up to view,
And bids he.'oie virtue live in you:
Unite tiie patriot's with the warrior's care
And, while you burn to conquer, wish to spare.
The comic scene presides o'er social life,
And forms the husband, father, friend and wife ;
To paint from nature, and with colours nice
Shew us ourselves, and laugh us out of vice.
Now say, ye Bosto > prudes, (if prudes there are)
Is this a task unworthy of the fair?
Will fame, decorum, piety refuse
A call on beauty to conduct the Muse ?
Perish the narrow thought, the sland'rous tongue 1
When the heart's right, the action can't be wrong.
Behold the test, mark at the curtain's rise
How Malice sinks abashed at Zura's eyes.-j-

The adventurous capture of General Prescott
at Newport furnished ready material for a po-
pular ballad, which was not lost sight of. Pres-
cott was the commanding officer of the British
troops in possession of Newport, and had rendered
himself very unpopular by acts of petty tyranny.
Lieutenant-Colonel Barton, of the American mi-
litia at Providence, determined to take him pri-
soner. Embarking with a small party of picked
men in four whale-boats, they crossed on the night
of the tenth of July, 1777, Narragansett bay to
the house of a Quaker named Overing, Prescott's
head-quarters, about five miles from the town.
Gagging the sentinel, they entered the house un-
perceived, roused Prescott from his bed, and car-
ried him oft' without giving him time to dress,
speed being essential to success in the daring ex-
ploit, from the presence of three British frigates
in the bay close to the house. The party re-

* The following paragraph from an English journal of the
period famishes as with some valuable information, hitherto
we believe unnoticed, relative to the amateur performances by
officers of the army, which appear from their frequency to
hive b -en extremely popular dining tbo British occupancy
of our cities.

" An American Correspondent says, that the officers of the
army in New York, concerned in the management of the
theatre, there form a body like any other company of Come-
dians, and share the profits arising from their exhibitions. To
people on this side the water, it may seem mean for British
officers to perform for hire : but in New York necessaries are
so extremely dear, that an inferior officer, who has no other
resources than his pay, undergoes more difficulties than the
common soldier ; and circumstanced as many brave men now
are in America, such an exertion of their talents to increase
their incomes deserves the greatest encouragement." — 1TS1,
Upcott s Newspaper Cuttings.

t A parody on this prologue was published in the Freeman's
Journal or New Hampshire Gazette, June 22, 1776.

crossed in safety, and conveyed their prisoner to
Providence, and thence to Washington's head-
quarters on the Hudson. Prescott remained a
prisoner until the following April, when he was
exchanged for General Charles Lee, and returned
to his troops in Rhode Island. Barton received
a sword, and a grant of land in Vermont, from
Congress. He subsequently became involved in
legal proceedings in consequence of a transfer of
a portion of this tract, and was thrown into pri-
son for debt, where he remained until the visit
of Lafayette in 1825, who, hearing of the circum-
stance, paid the debt and released the old sol-
dier.*

The ballad written on the occasion, it is said,
was served up to Prescott himself when he re-
turned to his station. The story is thus told : —

Shortly after his exchange he returned to Rhode
Island, and was invited to dine on board the admi-
ral's ship, with many other officers of the highest
grade. General Prescott was naturally a haughty,
imperious man, and as a commander was very un-
popular with his officers and soldiers, and with the
citizens of Newport, but a brave and skilful officer.

It was often that boys as well as men were sent
from the town on board the admiral's ship for any
offence, and confined there for some time, by the
arbitrary authority of those in power. Martial law
was the law of the place. A small lad, about thir-
teen years of age, was placed in this situation pre-
vious to General Preseott's return, and was on board,
with many others, at the time the general dined
there. He did not know General Prescott.

After dinner the wine circulated freel}7, and a
toast and soug were repeatedly called for. In the
course of the evening the first lieutenant observed
to the admiral, who was a real jolly son of Neptune,
that "there was a Yankee lad on board who would
shame all the singing." " Bring him up here," says
Prescott. The boy was accordingly brought into
the cabin. The admiral called on him to give them
a song. The little fellow, being somewhat intimidat-
ed by gold-laced coats, epaulettes, <tc, replied, " I
can't sing any songs but Yankee songs." The admi-
ral, perceiving that he was embarrassed, ordered
the steward to give him a glass of wine, saying,
" Come, my little fellow, don't be frightened ; give
ns one of your Yankee songs." General Prescott
spoke in his usual haughty, imperious manner,
" You d — d young rebel, give us a song or I'll give
you a dozen." The admiral interfered, and assured
the lad that he should be set at liberty the next day,
"if he would give them a song — any one he could
recollect."

The following doggerel, written by a sailor of
Newport, was then given, to the great amusement
of the company.

'Twas on a dark and stormy night,

The wind and waves did roar,
Bold Barton then, with twenty men,

Went down upon the shore.

And in a whale-boat they set off

To Rhode Island fair,
To catch a red-coat general

Who then resided there.

Through British fleets and guard-boats strong.

They held their dangerous wa}',
Till they arrived unto their port,

And then did not delay.

* Losslng's Field-Book, ii. 75.

4:52

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

A tawny son of Afric's race

Them through the ravine led,
And entering then the Overiug House,

They found him in his bed.

But to get in they had no means

Except poor CufFee's head,
Who beat the door down, then rush'd in,

And seized him in his bed.

"Stop! let me put my breeches on,"

The general then did pray :
" Your breeches, massa, I will take,

For dress we cannot stay."

Then through rye-stubble him they led,

With shoes and breeches none,
And placed him in their boat quite snug,

And from the shore were gone.

Soon the alarm was sounded loud,
" The Yankees they have come,
And stolen Prescott from his bed,
And him they've carried hum."

The drums were beat, skyrockets flew,

The soldiers shoulder'd arms,
And march'd around the ground they knew,

Fill'd with most dire alarms.

But through the fleet with muffled oars

They held their devious way,
And landed him on 'Ganset shore

Where Britain held no sway.

When unto land they came,

Where rescue there was nor.e,
" A d — d bold push," the general cried,
" Of prisoners I am one."

There was a general shout of all the company
during the whole song, and at the close, one who
was a prisoner on board at the time, observed, he
" thought the deck would come through with the
stamping and cheering."

General Prescott joined most heartily in the mer-
riment. Thrusting his hand into his pocket, he
handed the boy a guinea, saying, " Here, you young
dog.isaguineafor you." The boy was set at liberty
the next morning.

This anecdote is often related by an aged gentle-
man living at Newport. *

There 13 another version thus given in Mrs.
Williams's Life of Barton.

The day was spent, the evening fair,
When Barton marched his men with caref

Down to the river's side ;
And unto them most nobly said —
" Let none embark who are afraid

To cross the swelling tide."

But they, like hardy sons of Mars,
Inurrd to hardships and to wars,

Most nobly did reply ;
" With manly rage our souls on fire,
We scorn the thought for to retire ;

We conquer will or die."

Tims did they cross and march away,
Where Prescott's host encamped lay,
On hostile measures bent ;

* McCarty's Songs, ii. 367-369, quoted f, om Plymouth Me-
morial, 1835.

t This song is still in traditional circulation. A friend had
it from an old soldier, who commenced his recitation vigor-
ously :—

The moon shone bright, the night was clear,
Bold Barton march'd his men with keer.

Young David took this bloody Saul,
And sentry, aid-de-canrp, and all,
Back to the boat they went.

You watchful host who round him kept,
To guard your General while he slept,

Now you have lost your head ;
Since they from freedom's happy shore,
Return'd and brought their booty o'er,

The hero from his bed.

Go to your king, and to him say,
" Call home your troops, call them away,

Or Prescott's fate they'll share."
For Barton, with his sling and stone,
Will bring the great Goliah down,

And catch him in a snare.*

We are indebted to North Carolina "Wood
Notes"'t for the following

TEIBUTE TO GENERAL FRANCIS NASH.

Genius of Freedom ! whither art thou fled ?
While fields of death thy sons undaunted tread,
Lo, where for thee thy brightest heroes fall,
And not thy shield to ward the winged ball.

On Bunker's height great Warren is no more ;
The brave Montgomery's fate we next deplore ;
Princeton's fam'd fields to trembling Britain tell,
How, scored with wounds, the conquering Mercer

fell;
New England's boast, the generous Wooster, slain,
Demands our tears ; while Britons fly the plain.
Last flow our sorrows for a favourite son,
Whom, weeping, Carolina claims her own,
The gallant Nash, who, with the fatal wound,
Though tortured, welt'ring on the hostile ground,
" Fight on, my troops," with smiling ardor said,
" 'Tis but the fate of war, be not dismay'd."

High Heaven ordain'd for great designs this woe.
Which, till the destined period, none must know.
Heroes of old thus for their country stood,
Raised mighty empires, founded with their blood ;
In this new world like great events must come ;
Thus Athens rose, and thus imperial Rome.

Inscribed to Col. Thomas Clark, of the First North
Carolina Battabon, by his friend and most obedient
humble servant,

Alex. Martin.
Camp, near Germantown.
Oct. 30, 17T7.

General Nash was wounded on the fourth, and
died on the seventh of October, 1 777. Lieut.-Col.
Alexander Martin, the author of the lines, at the
close of the war became governor of his native
state of North Carolina, and afterwards a senator
of the United States. Col. Clark succeeded to
Nash's command.J

The unsuccessful attempt, in connexion with the
French fleet, to dislodge the British from New-
port, in July, 1778, gave occasion to a lively
Tory effusion.

YANKEE DOODLE'S EXPEDITION TO T.HODE ISLAND.

Written at Philadelphia.
I.
From Lewis, Monsieur Gerard came
To Congress in this town, Sir,

* Mrs. Williams's Biog. of Eevolutionary Heroes. Provi-
dence : 1839. p. 128.

t Wood Notes ; or Carolina Carols: a Collection of North
Carolina Poetry. Compiled hy Tenella. Ealeigh: Warren L.
Pomeroy. 1854. 2 vols. 12mo.

t Wood Notes, ii. 235.

BALLAD LITERATURE.

They bow'd to him, and he to them,
And then they" all sat down, Sir.

Chorus. Yankee Doodle, &a.

Begar, said Monsieur, one grand coup
You shall bientot behold. Sir,

This was believ'd as Gospel true,
And Jonathan felt bold, Sir.

So Yankee Doodle did forget
The sound of British drum, Sir,

How oft it made him quake and sweat
In spite of Yankee rum, Sir.

He took his wallet on his baek,
His rifle on his shoulder,

And vom'd Rhode Island to attack
Before he was much older.

In dread array their tatter'd crew,
Advanced with colours spread, Sir;

Their fifes play'd Yankee Doodle doo,
King Hancock at their head, Sir.

What numbers bravely crossM the seas,

I cannot well determine,
A swarm of rebels and of fleas,

And every other vermin.

VII.

Their mighty hearts might shrink they tho't.

For all flesh only grass is,
A plenteous store they therefore brougt

Of whiskey and molasses.

They swore they'd make bold Pigot squeak,

So did their good Ally, Sir,
And take him prisoner in a week ;

But that was all my eye, Sir.

As Jonathan so much desir'd,

To shine in martial story,
D'Estaing with politesse retir'd

To leave him all the glory.

x.

He left him what was better yet,
At least it was more use, Sir,

He left him for a quick retreat,
A ver}- good excuse, Sir.

XI.

To stay, unless he ruled the sea,
He thought would not be right, Sir,

And Continental troops, said he,
On islands should not fight, Sir.

Another cause with these corabin'd,

To throw him in the dumps, Sir,
For Clinton's name alarmed his mind
And made him stir his stamps, Sir,

Sing Yankee doodle doodle doo.
Eivington's Eoyal Gazette, Oct. 3, 1778.

The next event of the war of which we offer
poetical commemoration, is the Massacre at
Wyoming. The ballad which follows is printed,
apparently for the first time, in the Appendix to

the History of Wyoming by Charles Miner,* where
it is stated to have been written soon after the
tragedy by " Mr. Uriah Terry, of Kingston."

WYOMING MASSACRE.

Kind Heaven, assist the trembling muse.

While she attempts to tell
Of poor "Wyoming's overthrow,

By savage sons of hell.

One hundred whites, in painted hue.

Whom Butler there did lead,
Supported by a barb'rous crew

Of the fierce savage breed.

The last of June the siege-began,

And several days it held,
While many a brave and valiant man

Lay slaughtered on the field.

Our troops marched out from Forty Fort.

The third day of Jul}",
Three hundred strong, they marched along,

The fate of war to try.

But oh ! alas ! three hundred men,

Is much too small a band,
To meet eight hundred men complete,

And make a glorious stand.

Four miles they marched from the Fort

Their enemy to meet,
Too far indeed did Butler lead,

To keep a safe retreat.

And now the fatal hour is come —

They bravely charge the foe.
And they with ire, returned the fire.

Which prov'd our overthrow.

Some minutes they sustained the fire,

But ere they were aware
They were encompassed all around

Which prov'd a fatal snare.

And then they did attempt to fly,

But all was now in vain,
Their little host — by far the most —

Was by those Indians slain.

And as they fly, for quarters cry;

Oh hear! indulgent Ilcav'n !
Hard to relate — their dreadful fate,

No quarters must be given.

With bitter cries and mournful sighs

They seek some safe retreat,
Run here and there, they know not where.

Till awful deatli they meet.

Their piercing cries salute the skies —
Mercy is all their cry :
' Our souls prepare God's grace to share.
We instantly must die."

Some men yet found are flying round

Sagacious to get clear ;
In vain to fly, their foes too nigh I

They front the flank and rear.

And now the foe hath won the day,
Methinks their words are these :
" Ye cursed, rebel, Yankee race,

Will this your Congress please V

" Your pardons crave, you them shall have,
Behold them in our hands ;
We'll all agree to set you free,
By dashing out your brains.

* History of Wyoming in a Series of Letters, from Charles
Miner, to his son, William Penn Miner, Esq. Phila. : J. Oessy.
1S45.

454

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

'And as for you, enlisted crew,

We'll raise your honours higher :
Pray turn your eye, where you must lie,
In yonder burning fire."

Then naked in those flames they're cast,

Too dreadful 'tis to tell,
Where they must fry, and burn and die,

While cursed Indians yell.

Nor son, nor sire, these tigers spare, —

The youth, and hoary head,
Were by those monsters murdered there,

And numbered with the dead.

Methinks I hear some sprightly youth,
His mournful state condole :
' 0, that my tender parents knew,
The anguish of my soul.

'But 0 ! there's none to save my life,
Or heed my dreadful fear ;
I see the tomahawk arid knife,
And the more glittering spear.

When years ago, I dandled was

Upon my parents' knees,
I little thought I should be brought

To feel such pangs as these.

' I hoped for many a joyful day,
I hoped for riches' store —
These golden dreams are fled away;
I strniglit shall be no more.

' Farewell, fond mother ; late I was,
Locked up in your embrace ;
Your heart would ache, and even break,
If you could know my case.

' Farewell, indulgent parents dear,
I must resign my bre;ith ;
I now must die, and here must lie
In the cold arms of death.

' For 0 ! the fatal hour is come,
I see the bloody knife, —
The Lord have mercy on my soul !"
And quick resigned his life.

A doleful theme ; yet, pensive muse,

Pursue the doleful theme:
It is no fancy to delude,

Nor transitory dream.

The Forty Fort was the resort,

For mother and for child,
To save them from the cruel rage,

Of the fierce savage wild.

Now, when the news of this defeat,

Had sounded in our ears,
You well may know our dreadful woe,

And our foreboding fears.

A doleful sound is whispered round,

The sun now hides his head ;
The nightly gloom forebodes our doom,

We all shall soon be dead.

How can we bear the dreadful spear,

The tomahawk and knife \
And if we run, the awful gun,

Will rob us of our life.

But Heaven ! kind Heaven, propitious power I

His hand we must adore.
He did assuage the savage rage,

That they should kill no more.

The gloomy night now gone and past,

The sun returns again,
The little birds from every bush,

Seem to lament the slain.

With aching hearts and trembling hands

We walked here and there,
Till through the northern pines we saw,

A flag approaching near.

Some men were chose to meet this flag,

Our colonel was the chief,
Who soon returned and in his mouth

He brought an olive leaf.

This olive leaf was granted life,

But then we must no more,
Pretend to fight with Britain's king,

Until the wars are o'er.

And now poor Westmoreland is lost,

Our forts are all resigned,
Our buildings they are all on fire, —

What shelter can we find ?

They did agree in black and white,

If we'd lay down our arms,
That all who pleased might quietly

Remain upon their farms.

But 0! they've robbed us of our all,

They've taken all but life,
And we'll rejoice and bless the Lord,

If this may end the strife.

And now I've told my mournful tale,

I hope you'll all agree,
To help our cause and break the jaws

Of cruel tyranny.

In the same year, appeared from the press of
Thomas and Samuel Green, New Haven, a pamph-
let entitled Poems, occasioned by several circum-
stances and reminiscences in the present grand corn-
iest of America for Liberty. The author has been
ascertained by the Rev. Stephen Dodd, of East
Haven church, who has republished the poems,*
to have been the Rev. Wheeler Case, pastor of the
Presbyterian church of Pleasant Valley, Dutchess
county, New York. He states in his preface that
some of the pieces have been written merely for
amusement, and others with design to promote
the cause ofliberty, into whose Treasury he casts
his mite in publishing them. They are quaint
and spirited expressions of patriotism and piety,
mainly elicited by the defeat of Burgoyne. The
struggle is symbolized by a contest between the
eagle and the crane, in which the latter (in 1776)
is hopefully made to come off victorious. The
" tragical death of Miss M'Crea" is celebrated with
more feeling than art. In the verses, " An An-
swer to the Messengers of the Nation," with a
text from Isaiah, the writer expresses the not un-
common feeling of the pulpit of those days towards
General Washington, who was looked to as a de-
liverer under the protection of heaven, " the sword
of the Lord and of Gideon."

We give two passages from this old volume for
their earnestness and their historical value.

WASHINGTON.

Let not my theme by any be abus'd,
Tho' Ziorfs founded, means must yet be us'd.
When foes with spears rush on us like a flood,
Cursd be the man who keeps his sword from blood,]
When wonders great for Zion have been done,
God and his people went to war as one.

* Revolutionary Memorials, embracing Poems by the Ber.
Wheeler Case. Now York : M. W. Dodd. 1S52.
+ Jcr. xlviii. 10.

BALLAD LITERATURE.

455

Gideon went forth against a mighty host,

Three hundred men were all that he could boast;

Before these few the Midianites now fall.

It was one sword alone that did it all,

E'en by the sword of God and Gideon.

What great exploits were done by Israel's King,

How we hear this hero vict'ry sing.

Where did he learn this skill, or whence this might?

The God of armies taught his hands to fight.

When Zion's foes against her did conspire,

Hail-stones from heaven were sent, and flames of fire.

To crush her foes and maintain her cause,

The God of nature alters nature's laws ;

The sun and moon are stopp'd, they cease to ruo,

'Till Joshuas work is o'er, his work is done.

Joshua the hero, and the man of God,

Rais'd up his eye, his mandate sent abroad,

Thou sun, bright lamp of day, thou moon, stand still,

Nor dare advance to yonder Western hill,

'Till I have erush'd my foes and done Jehovah's will.

But why need we go back to ancient dates,

While wonders great are done within these States?

Jehovah's power, his all-wise providence,

Hath been engag'd for us in our defence.

Let's eye that Providence, adore the hand,

That rais'd for us a Joshua in our land.

O what a blessing to the States ! it is our bliss,

Great Washington was rais'd for such a day as this.

How g"od, how kind is most indulgent heav'n,

That such a leader to ourjariny's giv'n !

What great exploits he and his troops have done!

How bravely they have fought, what vict'ries won.

It was the Lord that did their breasts inspire

With thirst for liberty and martial fire,

'Twas he their operations planu'd so well,

And fought for them, e'eu when ten thousand fell.

When these affairs are viewM and duly scann'd,

He's blind that does not see Jehovah's hand.

See Washington thro' Jersey State retreat,

His foes rejoice — they thought that he was beat;

Howe hint pursues with speed, he presses on,

He thought the day his own, the vict'ry won.

The secret friends of George their off rings bring,

They boldly raise their head, and own their King;

A gloom is spread around, alas! what grief,

We know not where to go to find relief.

A storm of snow and hail the Lord sent down,

A blessed season this for Washington :

He now return'd, and thro' the storm he press'd,

And caught twelve hundred Hessians in their nest.

Our hero pitch'd his tents near Trenton bridge,

Home gather'd all his troops upon a ridge,

Not far from where his little army lay,

Impatient waits his vengeance to display,

Determin'd when the shades of night were o'er,

Great Washington should fall and be no more.

But he with skill consummate did retire,

Soon made the foe at Princeton feel his ire.

Leaving the valiant Howe to tight the fire*

THE FALL OF BURGOTNE.

Is this Burgogne, Burgogne the great,

Who fill'd our land with woe,
And threaten'd vengeance from the state,

Is he now fell so low?

Is't he that made the earth to tremble,
That was so great a curse,

* General Washington ordered a number of fires to be made,
and kept burning till towards da}'. In the middle of the nteht
be made a forced march Lo Princeton, where he attacked and
took two regiments stationed there. In t lie morning Howe was
preparing to attack Washington, and mrch elated with expec-
tations of crushing birn, sent oat bisspies to make discoveries ;
but to bis great surprise was soon informed where Washington
was, by hearing the heavy cannonade at Princeton.

That doth great Babel's king resemble,
Is he now weak like us?

To Indians he gives stretch no more,

Nor them supplies with knives
To stain our land with crimson gore,

With them to sealp our wives.

His threat'niug proclamation's stopp'd,
He's now o'erspread with gloom,

The wings with which he flew are cropp'd,
He has no elbow-room.

His titles he proclaims no more,

No more his triumphs spread,
His thund'riug cannon cease to roar,

And all his joys are fled.

Where is his great and mighty host,

That huge gigantic race,
The sons of Anak, Britain's boast?

They're pris'ners in disgrace.

Pris'ners to rebels, Yankies too,

O mortifying stroke !
They caught Burgogne witli all his crew,

Britons now wear the yoke.

Great Washington, that man of might,

Hath laid a snare for Howe,
Unless with speed he takes his flight,

He to the yoke must bow.

During this year Eivington's contributors kept
up a constant succession of pasquinades. We
quote a few : —

New York, October 24, 1778.

INTELLIGENCE EXTRAORDINARY.

We learn from Philadelphia, that there was lately
exhibited in that city, an admirable Farce called
Indei-endence. Who was the author is not posi-
tively known. Some people are of opinion, that it
is the work of a certain Quack Doctor, called Frank-
lin. Others assert, that it is the joint production of
the strolling company by whom it was acted ; it is,
however, generally allowed, that one Adams gave
the first hint, contrived the plot, and cast the
parts. It appeared in the exhibition so tragi-comical
that the audience were at a loss whether to laugh
or cry; they were, however, well pleased with the
catastrophe, and joined heartily in the following
chorus, which was sung by the excellent actor who
played the part of the President. The celebrated
Voltaire somewhere relates, that a soug was the
cause of the Reformation in France,

Our farce is now finish'd, your sport's at an end,
But ere you depart, let the voice of a friend,
By way of a chorus the evening crown.
With a song to the tune of a hey derry down.

Derry down, down, hey derry down.

Old Shakspeare, a poet who should not be spit on,
Altho' lie was born in the island called Briton,
Hath said that mankind are all players at best,
A truth we'll admit of, for the sake of the jest.
Derry down, &a.

On this puny stage we have strutted our hour,
And have acted our parts to the best of our power.
That the farce has concluded not perfectly well
Was surely the fault of the Devil in Hell.

Derry down, &e.
This Devil, you know, out of spleen to the church,
Will often times leave his best friends in the lurch,
And turn them adrift in the midst of their joy ;
Tis a difficult matter to cheat the old boy.

Derry down, <fec.

456

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

Since this is the case, we must e'en make the best

Of a game that is lost ; let us turn it to jest,

We'll smile, nay, we'll laugh, we'll carouse and we'll

sing,
And cheerfully drink life and health to the King.
Derry down, <fec.

Let "Washington now from his mountains descend,
Who knows but in George he may still find a

friend.
A. Briton, although he loves bottle and wench,
Jb an honester fellow than parlez vous French.
Derry down, <tc.

Our great Independence we give to the wind,

And pray that Great Britain may once more be

kind,
In this jovial 6ong all hostility ends,
And Britons and we will for ever be friends.
Derry down, (fee.

Boy, fill me a bumper, now join in the chorns,
There's happiness still in the prospect before us;
In this sparkling glass all hostility ends,
And Britons and we will for ever be friends.
Derry down, <fec.

Good night, my good people, retire to your houses,
Fair ladies, I beg you convince your fair spouses,
That Britons and we are united in bliss,
And ratify all with a conjugal kiss-.
Derry down, <fcc.

Once more, here's a health to the King and the

Queen,
Confusion to him who in rancor and spleen,
Refuses to drink witli an English friend,
Immutable amity to the world's end.
Derry down, <fec.

P.ivington's Eoval Gazette, Saturday,
October 24, 177S.

Our next extract is from a production of some
hundred and fifty lines, which appeared Nov.
6, entitled,

THE CONGRATULATION.

Joy to great Congress, joy an hundred fold,
The great cnjolers are themselves cajol'd:
What, now, is left of continental brags,
Taxes unpaid, though payable in rags.
What now remains of continental force?
Battalions mouldering, waste without resource.
What rests there yet of continental sway ?
A ruin'd people ripe to disobey ;
Hate now of men, and soon to be the jest,
Such is your state, ye monsters of the west,
Yet must on every face a smile be worn,
Whilst every breast with agony ib torn,
Hopeless yourselves, yet hope you must impart,
And comfort others with an aching heart.
HI fated they, who, lost at home, must boast
Of help expected from a foreign coast,
How wretched is their lot to France and Spain,
Who look for succour, but who look in vain.

Joy to great Congress, joy an hundred fold,

The grand cajolers are themselves cajol'd.

Courage, my boys, dismiss your chilling fears,

Attend to me. Til put you in your gears,

Come, I'll instruct you how to advertise

Your missing friends, your hide-and-seek allies.

0 TE3 ! if any man alive will bring

News of the squadron of the Christian King,

If any man will fiiid out Count d'Estaing,

With wdiose scrub actions both the Indies rang ;

If any man will ascertain on oath,

What is become of Monsieur de la Mothe ;

Whoever these important points explains,
Congress will nobly pay him for his pains,
Of pewter dollars what both hands can hold,
A thimblef ull of plate, a mite of gold ;
The lauds of some big Tory, he shall get,
And strut a famous Col'nel en brevet,
And last, to honour him (we scorn to bribe),
We'll make him chief of the Oneida tribe.

This was followed on the 27th of the same
month by

THE SIEGE OF SAVANNAH.

Come let us rejoice,

With heart and with voice
Her triumphs let loyalty show, sir,

While bumpers go round

Re-echo the sound,
Huzza, for the King and Prevost, sir.

With warlike parade,

And his Irish brigade,
His ships and his spruce Gallic host, Bir,

As proud as an elf,

D'Estaing came himself,
And landed on Georgia's coast, sir.

There joining a band,

Under Lincoln's command,
Of rebels and traitors and Whigs, sir,

'Gainst the town of Savannah,

He planted his banner,
And then he felt wonderous big, sir.

With thund'ring of guns,

And bursting of bombs,
He thought to have frighted our Boys, sir,

But amidst all their din,

Brave Maitland push'd in.
And Moncrieff cry'd, " a fig for your noise, sir."

Chagrin'd at delay

(As he meant not to stay),
The bold Count form'd his troops in the morn, sir,

Van, centre, and rear

March'd up without fear,
Cock sure of success — by a storm, sir.

Though rude was the shock,

Unmov'd as a rock,
Stood our firm British bands to their works, sir.

While the brave German corps,

And Americans bore,
Their parts as intrepid as Turks, sir.

Then muskets did rattle,

Fierce raged the battle,
Grape shot it flew thicker than hail, sir.

The ditch fill'd with slain,

Blood dyed all the plain,
When the rebels and French turned tail, sir..

See, see, how they run !

Lord ! what glorious fun !
How they tumble by cannon mow'd down, sirl

Brains fly all around,

Dying screeches resound,
And mangled limbs cover the ground, sir.

There Polasky fell

That Imp of old Bell,
Who attempted to murder his King, sir,

But now he is gone

Whence he'll never return,
But will make II — ■ with treason to ring, sir.

To Charlestown with fear,

The rebels repair,
D'Estaing scampers back to his boats, sir,

Each blaming the other,

Each cursing his brother,
And may they cut each other's throats, sir.

BALLAD LITERATURE.

457

Scarce three thousand men,

The town did maintain,
'Gainst three times their number of foes, sir,

Who left on the plain,

Of wounded and slain,
Three thousand to fatten the crows, sir.

Three thousand ? No less !

For the rebels confess
Some loss, as you very well know, sir,

Then let bumpers go round,

And re-echo the sound,
Huzza for the King and Prevost, sir.
Eivington's Gazette, Nov. 27, 177y.

A poem on Washington, dated in 1770, merits
insertion here.

Let venal poets praise a King

For virtues unpossessM,
A volunteer, unbrib'd I sing

The Hero of the West.

When Gaul came on with rapid stride,

And vict'ry was the word,
First shone his country's future pride,

And flesh'd his maiden sword.

With conquest crown'd, from war's alarms,
To study bent his mind ; —
" Equal to both, to arts or arms
indiff'rently inclin'd."

Elate with fancied pow'r and pride,

Impell'd by angry Jove ;
Nor fates nor justice on their side,

The British legions move.

With them a tribe of foreign slaves

A mercenary band,
For plunder bold, inur'd to blood,

Invade his native laud.

His country calls, to arms lie flies,

Nor fears a tyrant's frown ;
Leads heroes, favour'd by the skies,

To glory and renown.

In vain the British tyrant storms,

His thunders fright no more, —
His hardy vet'rans, vainly brave,

Shall rly the happy shore.

The willing Chiefs around him throng,

Impatient of delay;
Their noble ardour he restrains,

And points the surer way.

Pursue, Great Chief, the glorious race —
Thy country's sword and shield ; —

Thrice happy ! bo i alike to grace
The senate a dt:o field.
New Hampshire Gazette, Oct. 12, 1779.

We now come to one of the most famous pieces
of verse composed during the war. It owes its
reputation, however, more to the untimely death
of its author than to its own merits. Having al-
ready given, in our extract from Hamilton, the
best account of the most memorable portion of
Andre's life, we present without further preface

THE COW-CHASE.
CANTO I.

To drive the kine one summer's morn,

The Tinner* took his way.
The calf shall rue that is unborn

The jumbling of that day.

And Wayne descending steers shall know

And tauntingly deride,
And call to mi.nl in ev'ry low

The tanning of his hide.

Yet Bergen cows still ruminate

Unconscious in the stall,
What mighty means were used to get

And loose them after all.

For many heroes bold and brave
From New-Bridge and Tapaan,*

And those that drink Passaick's wave,
And those that eat Soupaun.

And sons of distant Delaware

And still remoter Shannon,
And Major Lee with horses rare

And Proctor with his cannon.

All wondrous proud in arms they came,

What hero could refuse,
To trend the rugged path to fame,

Who had a pair of shoes?

At six the Host "with sweating buff,

Arrived at Freedom's pole,
When Wayne who thought he'd time enough,

Thus speechified the whole.

0 ye whom glory doth unite
Who Freedom's cause espouse,

Whether the wing that's doomed to fight
Or that to drive the cows.

Ere yet you tempt your further way

Or into action come.
Hear, soldiers, what I have to say,

And take a pint of rum.

Intemp'rate valor then will string,

Eaeh nervous arm the better,
So all the land shall 10 sing

And read the geu'ral's letter.

Know that some paltry Refugees,

Whom I've a mind to fright,
Are playing h — 1 amongst the trees

That grow on yonder height.

Their Fort and block-houses we'll level,

And deal a horrid slaughter,
We'll drive the scoundrels to the devil,

And ravish wife and daughter.

1 under cover of th' attack,

Whilst you are all at blows,
From English Neighborhood and Tinack*
Will drive away the cows.

For well you know the latter is

The serious operation,
And fighting with the Refugees

Is only recreation.

His daring words from all the crowd,

Such great applause did gain,
That every man declared aloud

For serious work with Wayne.

Then from the cask of rum once more

They took a heady gill,
When one and nil they loudly swore,

They'd fight upon the hill.

But here — the Muse has not a strain

Befitting such great deeds,
Huzza, they cried, huzza for Wayne,

And shouting — <hd their neels.

* General Wayne's legal occupation.

* Villages in New Jersey.

458

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

canto n.
Near his meridian pomp, the sun

Had journey'd from the hor'zon,
When fierce the dusky tribe mov'd on,

Of heroes drunk as poison.

The sounds confused of boasting oaths,

Re-eehoed thro' the wood,
Some vow'd to sleep in dead men's clothes

And some to swim in blood.

At Irving's nod 'twas fine to see,

The left prepare to fight,
The while the drovers, Wayne and Lee,

Drew off upon the right.

Which Irving 'twas fame don't relate,

Nor can the iluse assist her,
Whether 'twas he that cocks a hat

Or he that gives a glister.

For greatly one was signalized,

That fought at Chesnut-Hill,
And Canada immortalized,

The vender of the pill

Yet their attendance upon Proctor,
They both might have to boast of;

For there was business for the doctor,
And hats to be disposed of.

Let none uncandidly infer,

That Stirling wanted spunk,
The self-made peer had sure been there,

But that the peer was drunk.

But turn we to the Hudson's banks,
Where stood the modest train,

With purpose finu tho' slender ranks,
Nor card a pin for Wayne.

For them the unrelenting hand

Of rebel fury drove
And tore from ev'ry gerial band,

Of friendship and of love.

And some within a dungeon's gloom,

By mock tribunals laid,
Had waited long a cruel doom,

Impending o'er their head.

Here one bewails a brother's fate

There one a sire demands,
Cut off, alas ! before their date,

By ignominious hands.

And silver'd grandsires here appear'd

In deep distress serene,
Of reverend manners that declared,

The better days they'd seen.

Oh cursed rebellion these are thine,

Thine all these tales of wo,
Shall at thy dire insatiate shrine

Blood never eease to flow?

And now the foe began to lead

His forces to th' attack :
Balls whistling unto balls succeed.

And make the block-house crack.

No shot could pass, if you will take

The Gen'ral's word for true;
But 'tis a d ble mistake.

For ev'ry shot went thro'.

The firmer as the rebels pressed,

The loyal heroes stand ;
Virtue had nerv'd each honest breast,

And industry each hand.

In* valour's phrensy. Hamilton
Rode like a soldier big,

* Vide Lee"s Trial.

And Secretary Harrison,
With pen stuck in his wig.

But lest their Chieftain Washington,
Should mourn them in the mumps,*

The fate of Withrii gton to shun,
They fought behind the stumps.

But ah, Thaddasus Posset, why

Should thy poor soul elope ?
And why should Titus Hooper die,

Ah die — without a rope?

Apostate Murphy, thou to whom

Fair Sbela ne'er was cruel ;
In death shalt hear her mourn thy doom,

Ouch wou'd ye die my Jewel?

Thee Nathan Pumpkin, I lament,

Of melancholy fate,
The gray goose stolen as he went,

In his heart's b.ood was wet.

Now as the fight was further fought,

And balls began to thicken,
The fray assuin'd, the Gen'rals thought,

The colour of a licking.

Yet undismay'd the chiefs command,

And to redeem the day,
Cry, solliees ciurge ! they hear, they stand,

They turn and run away.

canto m.

Not all delights the bloody spear,

Or horrid din of battle,
There are, I'm sure, who'd like to hear,

A word about the cattle.

The chief whom we beheld of late,
Near Schralenberg haranguing,

At Yan "Van Poop's, j- unconscious sat
Of Irving's hearty bai ging.

Whilst valiant Lee, with courage wild,

Most bravely did oppose
The tears of woman and of child,

Who begg'd he'd leave the cows.
But Wayne, of sympathizing heart,

Required a relief,
Not all the blessii gs could impart

Of battle or of beef.
For now a prey to female charms,

His soul took more delight in
A lovely hamadryad's^ arms,

Than driving cows or fighting:

A nymph, the Refugees had drove

Far from her native tree,
Just happen'd to be on the move,

When up came Wayne and Lee.
She in mad Anthony's fierce eye

The hero saw poitray'd,
And all in tears she took him by

The biidle of his jade.ij

Hear, said the nymph, 0 great commander!

No human lamentations;
The trees you see them cutting yonder,

Are all my near relations.

And I, forlorn ! implore thine aid,

To free the sacred grove :
So shall thy prowess be repaid

With an immortal's love.

* A disorder prevalent in the Rebel lines. The merit of
these lines, which is doubtless very great, can only be felt by
true Connoisseurs, conversant in ancient song.

t Who kept a dram shop.

±A Deity of 1 he woods.

§ A New -Lnglaud name for a horse, mare or gelding.

BALLAD LITERATURE.

459

Now some, to prove she was a goddess !

Said this enchanting fair
Had late retired from the Bodies*

In all the pomp of war.
That drums and merry fifes had play'd

To honour her retreat,
And Cunninghamf himself convey'd

The lady thro' the street.

Great Wayne, by soft compassion sway'd,

To no inquiry sloops,
But takes the fair afflicted maid

Right into Yan Van Poop's.

So Roman Anthony, they say,

Disgraced th' imperial banner,
And for a gipsy lost a day,

Like Anthony the tanner.

The hamadryad had but half
Received redress from Wayne,

When drums and colours, cow and calf,
Came down the road amain.

All in a cloud of dust were seen
The sheep, the horse, the goat,

The gentle heifer, ass obscene,
The yearling and the shoat

And pack-horses with fowls came by,

Bet'eathered on each side,
Like Pegasus, the horse that I

And other poets ride.

Sublime upon his stirrups rose

The mighty Lee behind.
And drove the terrour-smitten cows,

Like chaff before the wind.

But sudden see the woods above

Pour down Mfriother corps,
All belter skelter in a drove,

Like that I sung before.

Irving and terrour in the van,

Came flying all abroad,
And cannon, colours, horse, and man,

Ran tumbling to the road.

Still as he fled, 'twas Irving's cry,

And his example too,
'Run on, my merry men all — for why?"
\ The shot will not go thro'.

As when two kennels in the street,

Swell'd with a recent rain,
In gushing streams together meet,

And seek the neighbouring drain.

So met these dung-born tribes in one,

As swift in their career,
And so to Newbridge they ran on —

But all the cows got clear.

Poor Parson Caldwell, all in wonder,

Saw the returning train,
And mouruM to Wayne the lack of plunder,

For them to steal again.

For 'twas his right to seize the spoil, and
To share with each commander,

As he had done at Stateu Island
With frostbit Alexander. 8

* A cant appellation given among the soldiery to the corps
that have the honour to gnftTd his majesty's person.

+ Provost-Marshal of New York.' who attended the drum-
ming of her out of the regiment and city.

X Five Refugees ('tis true) were found
Stiff on the block-house floor,
But th'-n 'tis thought the shot went round,
And in at the back-door.
S Earl of Stirling.

In his dismay the frantic priest*

Began to grow prophetic,
You'd swore, to see his lab' ring breast,

He'd taken an emetic.
I view a future day, said he,

Brighter than this day dark is,
And you shall see what yon shall see

Ha! ha I one pretty Marquis ;f

And he shall come to Paulue-Hoot,

And great achievements think on,
And make a bow and take a look,

Like Satan over Lincoln.
And all the land around shall glory

To see the Frenchmen caper,
And pretty Susan tell the story

In the next Chatham paper.

This solemn prophecy, of course,

Gave all much consolation,
Except to Wayne, who lost his horse

Upon the great occasion.

His horse that carried all his prog,

His military speeches,
His corn-stalk whiskey for his grog,

Blue stockings and brown breeches.

And now I've closed my epic strain,

I tremble as I show it.
Lest this same warrior-drover, Wayne,

Should ever catch the poet.

The gallant act of Andre's captors could not
fail of calling forth a ballad: —

BRAVE PAULDING AND THE SPY.

Come, all you brave Americans, and unto me give

ear,
And I'll sing you a ditty that will make your hearts

cheer,
Concerning a young gentleman whose age was

twenty-two ;
He fought for North America; his heart was just

and true.

They took him from his dwelling-place, and they

did him confine,
They cast him into prison, and kept him for a time:
But he with resolution resolved not lung to stay;
He set himself at liberty, and soon he ran away.

He with a scouting-party ran down to Tarrytown,

Where he met a British officer, a man of high re-
nown :

He says to those young gentlemen, " You're of the
British cheer,

I trust that you can tell me now if there's any dan-
ger here."

Then up stepp'd this young gentleman, John Paul-
ding was his name ;

" Come, tell me where you're going to, also from
whence you came."

" I bear the British flag, sir ; I've a pass to go this

I'm on an expedition, and have no time to stay."

Then up stepp'd those young gentlemen, and bid

him to dismount;
" Come tell us where. you're going to, give us a strict

account ;
For we are now resolved that you shall ne'er pass

by."

On strict examination, they found out he was a spy.

* Caldwell, a minister at "Elizabethtown, appointed Quarter-
Mastcr-General to the rebel army.

t Lafayette, a French coxcomb in the rebel service. — Note,
London ed., 1781.

460

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

He begged for his liberty, he plead for his discharge,
And oftentimes he told them, if they'd set him at

large,
"Here's all the gold and silver I have laid up in

store,
But when I get down to New York I'll give you

ten times more."

" I scorn your gold and silver, I've enough laid up

in store,
And when that is all spent and gone, I'll freely fight

for more ;
So you may take your sword in hand and gain your

liberty,
And if that you do conquer me, 0, then you shall

go free."

" The time it is improper our valour for to try,
For if we take our swords in hand, then one of us

must die;
I am a man of honour, with courage brave and bold,
I fear not the face of clay, although it's clothed in

gold."

He saw that his conspiracy would soon be brought

to light ;
He begg'd for pen and paper, and asked leave to

write
A line to General Arnold, to let him know his fate,
And begg'd for his assistance ; but alas, it was too

late.

When the news it came to Arnold, it put him in a

fret ;
He walk'd the room in trouble, till tears his cheeks

did wet ;
The news it went throughout the camp, likewise

throughout the fort;
He called for the Vulture, and sailed for New York.

Now Arnold to New York has gone, a fighting for

his kii g,
And left poor Major Andre, on the gallows for to

swing;
When he was executed, he look'd both meek and

mild,
He look'd on his spectators, and pleasantly did

smile.

It moved each eye with pity, caused every heart to

bleed ;
And ever}' one wish'd him released, and had Arnold

in his stead.
He was a man of honour, in Britain he was born ;
To die upon the gallows most highly he did scorn.

Here's health unto John Paulding ! so let your
voices sound,

Fill up your flowing glasses, and drink his health
around ;

Also to those young gentlemen who bore him com-
pany;

Success to North America, ye sons of liberty I

The territory of the present state of Vermont
was for some time a contested possession between
New York and New Hampshire, the former
colony claiming sixty townships, grants of which
had been given by the latter. The occupants of
the soil were inclined to set up for themselves,
and, in 1777, declared their independence. New
York would not give up her claim, New Hamp-
shire insisted on her demands, while the third
neighbor, Massachusetts, asserted a right to two
thirds of the territory in dispute. It was during
the height of the discussion, in 1779, when words
were expected to speedily lead to blows, that the
following spirited verses appeared.

THE SONG OF THE VEEMONTER8, 1779.

Ho — all to the borders ! Vermonters, come down,
With your breeches of deer-skin, and jackets of

brown ;
With your red woolen caps, and your moccasins,

come,
To the gathering summons of trumpet and drum.

Come down with your rifles! — let grey wolf and fox
Howl on in the shade of their primitive rocks ;
Let the bear feed securely from pig-pen and stall ;
Here's a two-legged game for your powder and ball.

On our South come the Dutchmen, enveloped in

grease ;
And, arrniLg for battle, while canting of peace ;
On our East, crafty Meshech* has gathered his band
To hang up our leaders, and eat out our land.

Ho — all to the rescue ! For Satan shall work
No gain for his legions of Hampshire and York !
They claim our possessions, — the pitiful knaves, —
The tribute we pay, shall be prisons and graves 1
Let Clinton and Ten Broek.f with bribes in their

hands,
Still seek to divide us, and parcel our lands ; —
We've coats for our traitors, whoever they are ;
The warp is of feathers — the filling of tar !

Does the " old bay State" threaten ? Does Congress

complain ?
Swarms Hampshire in arms on our borders again ?
Bark the war-dogs of Britain aloud on the lake ?
Let 'em come ; — what they can, they are welcome

to take.
What seek they among us ? The pride of our

wealth
Is comfort, contentment, and labour and health,
And lands which, as Freemen, we only have trod,
Independent of all, save the mercies of God.

Yet we owe no allegiance ; we bow to no throne;

Our ruler is law, and the law is our own ;

Our leaders themselves are our own fel!ow-men,

Who can handle the sword, or the scythe, or the
pen.

Our wives are all true, and our daughters are fair,

With their blue eyes of smiles, and their light flow-
ing hair ;

All brisk at their wheels till the dark even-fall,

Then blithe at the sleigh-ride, the husking, and
ball!

We've sheep on the hill sides ; we've cows on the
plain ;

And gay-tasseled corn-fields, and rank-growing
grain ;

There are deer on the mountains ; and wood-pigeons

fly

From the crack of our muskets, like clouds on the

sky.
And there's fish in our streamlets and rivers, which

take
Their course from the hills to our broad-bosomed

lake ;
Through rock-arched Winooski the salmon leaps

free,
And the portly shad follows all fresh from the sea.

Like a sun-beam the pickerel glides through his

pool ;
And the spotted trout sleeps where the water is

cool ;

* Hon. Mesbech Weare, Governor of New Hampshire,
t Governor Clinton of New York, and Hon. A. Ten Broek,
President of the New York Convention.

BALLAD LITERATURE.

461

Or darts from his shelter of rock and of root
At the beaver's quick plunge, or the angler's pur-
suit

And ours are the mountains, which awfully rise
'Till they rest their green heads on the blue of the

skies ;
And ours are the forests unwasted, unshorn,
Save where the wild path of the tempest is torn.

And though savage and wild be this climate of ours,
And brief be our season of fruits and of flowers,
Far dearer the blast round our mountains which

raves,
Than the sweet summer zephyr, which breathes

over slaves.

Hurra for Vermont ! for the land which we till
Must have sons to defend her from valley and hill ;
Leave the harvest to rot on the field where it

grows,
And the reaping of wheat for the reaping of foes.

From far Miehiscoui's wild valley, to where
Poosoomsuck steals down from his wood-circled

lair,
From Shocticook river to Lutterlock town, — ■
Ho — all to the rescue ! Vermonters, come down.

Come York or come Hampshire, — come traitors and

knaves
If ye rule o'er our land, ye shall rule o'er our

graven;
Our vow is recorded — our banner unfurled;
In the name of Vermont we defy all the world !

In Rivington's Royal Gazette of March 2-t,
1781, we tind the i'ollo wing advertisement : —

This day are published, price six shillings, neatly
printed, Cow Chace. Complete in three cantos.
Published on occasion of the Rebel General Wayne's
attack on the Refugees' Block House, on Friday, July
21, 1780. With the American Times. In which
are delineated the Characters of the Leaders of the
American Rebellion. Amongst the principal are,
Franklin, Laurens, Adams, Hancock, Jay, Duer,
Duaue, Wilson, Pulaski, Witherspoon, Reed, Mc-
Kean, Washington, Robewieau, Chace, &e. &a. &a.
Also, Yankee Doo lie's Expe lition to Rlio le Island ;
and a Lampoon, or the Bloodless Encounter between
the Generals Howe and James Gadsden.

We are enabled to furnish our readers with a
specimen of the leading poem in this collection,
from the copy in the valuable American Library
of Col. Peter Force of Washington. It appears,
from the following earlier and fuller announce-
ment of the title, to have been published in
England,* and may have been written in that
country.

" On Saturday morning next will be published,
price 2s., The American Times, a Satire in three
parts. In winch are delineated the characters of
the leaders of the American Rebellion. Amongst
the principal are, Franklin, eic. (as already given).
By Camillo Querno, Poet Laureate to the Con-
gress. Facitiudignatio versum — Juvenal. Print-
ed for the author, and sold by William Richard-
son, opposite Salisbury street, in the Strand,
1780."

We extract the "characters" of Robert and
Gouvorneur Morris.

* The advertisement forms partof the Upcott Cuttings. No
Indication is given of the title of the paper from which it is
taken.

What spectre's that with eyes on earth intent,
Whose God is gold, whose glory's cent, per cent.,
Whose soul, devoted to the love of gain,
Revolts from feelings noble and humane ?
Let friends, let family, let country groan,
Despairing widows shriek, or orphans moan ;
Turned to the centre where his riches grow,
His eye regards not spectacles of woe.
Morns, look up, for so thy name we spell —
Ou earth Bob Morris, Mammon 'tis in hell,
Wretch, thou hast meanly sold thy native land ;
Tremble, thou wretch, for vengeance is at hand.
Soou shall thy treasure fly on eagle's wings,
And conscience goad thee with her thousand stings.

Of head erect and self-sufficient mien,
Another Morris presses to be seen.
Demons of vanity, you know him sure,
This is your pupil — this is Gouverneur !
Some little knowledge, with some little sense,
More affectation far, and more pretence ; —
Such is the man ; his tongue he never baulks;
On all things talkable he boldly talks;
A specious orator, of law he prates,
A pompous nothing, mingles in debates;
Consummate impudence, sheer brass of soul,
Crowns every sentence, and completes the whole.
In other times unnoticed he might drop,
These times can make a statesman of a fop.

The spirited resumi of many of the events of the
war, entitled American Taxation, was written by
Samuel St. John, who was born and died in New
Canaan, Conn. He was on one occasion, in 1781,
carried off with others from Middlesex (now
Darien) across the Sound to Oyster Bay, and
thence to the Provost, New York. They were
imprisoned eighteen days and then exchanged.
St. John wrote an account of the affair in verse,
from which we extract a passage.

In boats the ferry soon we passed,

And at New York arrived at last.

As through the streets we passed along,

Ten thousand curses round us rung ;

But some would laugh, and some would sneer,

And some would grin, and some would leer;

A mixed mob, a medley crew,

I guess, as e'er the devil knew.

To the Provost we then were hauled,

Though we, of war, were prisoners called ;

Our irons now were ordered off,

The standers-by would swear and scoff.

But 0 ! what company we found ;

With great surprise we looked around 1

I must conclude that in this place,

We found the worst of Adam's race :

Thieves, murderers, and pickpockets too.

And everything that's bad they'd do,

One of our men found to his cost,

Three pounds, York money, he had lost.

His pocket picked, I guess, before

We had been there one single hour.

AMERICAN TAXATION.

While I relate my story, Americans give ear;
Of Britain's fading glory, you presently shall hear,
I'll give you a true relation, attend to what I say,
Concerning the taxation of North America.

The cruel lords of Britain, who glory in their shame,
The project they have lit on they joyfully proclaim ;
'Tis what they're striving after, our rights to take

away,
And rob us of our charter in North America.

462

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

There are two mighty speakers, who rule in Parlia-
ment,

Who always have been seeking some mischief to
invent,

'Twas North, and Bute, his father, this horrid plan
did lay,

A mighty tax to gather in North America,

He senrch'd the gloomy regions of the infernal pit,
To find among tiiose legions one who excell'd in wit,
To ask of him assistance, or tell them how they may
Subdue without resistance this North America.

Old Satan, the arch traitor, resolved a voyage to

take,
Who rules sole navigator on the burning lake ;
For the Britannic ocean he launches far away,
To land he had no notion in North America.

He takes his seat in Britain, it was his soul's intent,
Great George's throne to sit on, and rule the Parlia-
ment,
His comrades were pursuing a diabolic way,
For to complete the ruin of North America.

He tried the art of magic to bring his schemes

about,
At lei.gth the gloomy project he artfully found out;
The plan was long indulged in a clandestine way,
But lately Was divulged in North America.

These subtle arch-combiners address'd the British
court,

All three were undersigners of this obscene re-
port—

There is a pleasant landscape that lieth far away,

Beyond the wide Atlantic in North America.

There is a wealthy people, who sojourn in that

laud ;
Their churches all with steeples, most delicately

6tand ;
•Their houses, like the gilly, are painted red and

They flourish like the lily in North America.

Their land with milk and honey continually doth

flow,
The want of food or money they seldom ever know :
They heap up golden treasure, they have no debts

to pay,
They spend their time in pleasure in North America.

On turkeys, fowls, and fishes most frequently they

dine,
With gold and silver dishes, their tables always

shine,
They crown their feasts with butter, they eat and

rise to play,
In silks their ladies flutter in North America.

With gold and silver laces, they do themselves
adorn,

The rubies deck their faces, refulgent as the morn !

Wine sparkles in their glasses, they spend each hap-
py d:iy

In merriment and dances, in North America,

Let not our suit affront you, when we address your

throne,
0 kii g, this wealthy country and subjects are your

own,
And you their rightful sovereign, they truly must

obey,
You have a right to govern this North America

O king, you've heard the sequel of what we now

subscribe,
Is it not just and equal to tax this wealthy tribe?
The question bcii g asked, his majesty did say,
My subjects shall be taxed in North America,

Invested with a warrant, my publicans shall go,
The tenth of all their current they surely shall be-
stow,
If they indulge rebellion, or from my precepts stray,
I'll send my war battalion to North America.

I'll rally all my forces by water and by laud,

My light dragoons and horses shall go at my com-
mand,

I'll burn both town and city, with smoke becloud
the day,

I'll show no human pity for North America.

Go on, my hearty soldiers, yon need not fear of ill —
There's Hutchinson and Rogers, their functions will

fulfil—
They tell such ample stories, believe them 6ure we

may,
That one half of them are tories in North America.

My gallant ships are ready to hoist you o'er the

flood,
And in my cause be steady, which is supremely

good ;
Go ravage, steal, and plunder, and you shall have

the prey ;
They quickly will knock under in North America.

The laws I have enacted, I never will revoke,
Although they are neglected, my fury to provoke,
I will forbear to flatter, I'll rule with mighty sway;
I'll take away the charter from North Auieriea.

0 George ! you are distracted, bv sail experience

find
The laws you have enacted are of the blackest

kind.
I'll make a short digression, and tell you by the

way,
We fear not your oppression in North America.

Our fathers were distressed, while in their native

laud ;
By tyrants were oppressed, as I do understand ;
For freedom and religion they were resolved to

stray,
And try the desert regions of North America.

Heaven was their protector while on the roaring

tide,
Kind fortune their director, and providence their

guide ;
If I am not mistaken, about the first of May,
Tins voyage was undertaken for North America.

To sail they were commanded, about the hour of

noon,
At Plymouth shore they landed, the twenty-first of

June;
The savages were nettled, with fear they fled away,
And peaceably they settled in North America.

We are their bold descendants, for liberty we'll

fight,
The claim to independence we challenge as our

right,
Tis what kind heaven gave us, who can take away?
Kind heaven, too, will save us in North America.

We never will knock under, 0 George, we do not

fear
The rattling of your thunder, nor lightning of your

spear :
Though rebels you declare us, we're strangers to

dismay ;
Therefore you can't scare us in North America.

To what you have commanded, we never will eon-
sent ;

Although your troops are landed upon the conti-
nent ;

BALLAD LITERATURE.

403

We'll take our swords and muskets, and march in

bright array,
And drive the British rustics from North America.

We have a bold commander who fears not sword

nor gun,
The second Alexander, his name is Washington,
His men are all collected, and ready for the fray,
To fight they are directed for North America.

We've Green, Gates, and Putnam, to manage in the

field,
A gallant train of footmen, who'd rather die than

yield;
A stately troop of horses train'd in a martial way,
For to augment our forces in North America.

Proud George, you are engaged all in a dirty cause,
A cruel war hath raged repugnant to all laws,
Go tell the savage nations you're crueller than they,
To fight your own relations in North America.

Ten millions you've expended, and twice ten mil-
lions more,

Our riches you intended should pay the mighty
score,

Who now will stand your sponsor, your charges to
defray,

For sure you cannot conquer this North America?

I'll tell you, George, in metre, if you attend awhile,
We forced your Sir Peter from Sullivan's fair isle ;
At Monmouth too we gained the honours of the

day—
The victory we obtained for North America.

Surely we were your betters, hard by the Brandy-
wine ;

We laid him fast in fetters, whose name was John
B'irgoyne,

We made your Howe to tremble with terror and
dismay,

True heroes we resemble in North America.

Confusion to the tm'ies, that black infernal name,
In which Great Britain glories, for ever to her

shame ;
We'll send each foul revolter to smutty Africa,
Or noose him in a halter in North America.

A healrh to our brave footmen, who handle sword
and gun,

To Greene, Gates, and Putnam, and conquering
Washington;

Their names be wrote in letters which never shall
decay

While sun and moon doth glitter in North America.

Success unto our allies in Holland, France, and
Spain,

Who man their ships and gallies, our freedom to
maintain,

May they subdue the rangers of proud Britannia,

And drive them from their anchor in North Ame-
rica.

Success unto the Congress of these United States,
Who glory in the conquest of Washington and

Gates ;
To all, both land and seamen, who glory in the

day,
When we shall all be freemen in North America.

Success to the legislation that rules with gentle

hand,
To trade and navigation, by water and by land ;
May all with one opinion our wholesome laws obey.
Throughout this vast dominion of North Amarip.ii,

YANKEE DOODLE.

The tune of Yankee Doodle is said to have been
composed by a Dr. Skackburg, attacked to tke

British Army, in 1755, when the (roops of the
northern colonies inarched into Albany, prepara-
tory to the attack on the French posts of Niagara
and Frontemic. The habiliments of these recruits
presented a strange contrast to the orderly ap-
pointments of the English soldiery, and the music
to which they marched was as antiquated and outre
as their uniforms. Sliackburg, who possessed
some musical knowledge, composed a tune for
the new-comers, which lie told them was one of
the most celebrated of those in use by the army.
To the great amusement of the British, the pro-
vincials accepted the gift, and " Yankee Doodle "
became very popular among them.

The tune was not original with Sliackburg, as
it has been traced back to the time of Charles I.,
in England. In the reign of his son we find it an
accompaniment to a little song on a famous lady
of easy virtue of that date, which has been per-
petuated as a nursery rhyme —

Lucy Locket lo*t her pocket,

Kitty Fisher found it ;
Nothing in it, nothing in it,

But the binding round it.

A little later we have the first appearance of
that redoubtable personage Yankee Doodle. He
seems even at that early stage of his career to
have shown his characteristic trait of making the
most of himself —

Yankee Doodle came to town,

Upon a Kentish pony ;
He stuck a feather in his hat,

And called him Macaroni.

It is not impossible, however, that Yankee
Doodle may be from Holland. A song in use
among the laborers, who in the time of harvest
migrate from Germany to the Low Countries,
where they receive for their work as much butter-
milk as they can drink and a tenth of the grain
secured by their exertions, has this burden —

Yanker didel, doodel down

Didel, dudel lauter,
Yanke viver, voover vown,

Botermilk uud Tanther.

That is, buttermilk and a tenth.

This song our informant has heard repeated
by a native of that country, who had often lis-
tened to it at harvest time in his youth.

The precise date when

Father and I went down to camp —

cannot, we fear, be fixed with accuracy; hut as
the tune was sung at Bunker Hill, may be as-
sumed to have been in 1775.

Our copy of the words is from a broadside in
a collection of " Songs, Ballads, &c, purchased
from a ballad printer and seller in Boston in
1813," made by Isaiah Thomas. The variations
and additional stanzas in the notes are from
a version given in Fanner and Moore's Historical
Collections of New Hampshire, iii. 157.

the Yankee's return from camp.
Father and I went down to camp,

Along with Captain Gooding,
And there we see the men and boys,

A3 thick as hasty pudding.

464

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Chorus — Yankee Doodle, keep it up,
Yankee Doodle, dandy,
Mind the music aud the step,
And with the girls be handy.

And there we see a thousand men,

As rich as 'Squire David ;
And what they wasted every day,

I wish it could be saved.

The 'lasses they eat every day,
Would keep an house a winter;

They have as much that, I'll be bound,
They eat it when they're a mind to.

And there we see a swamping gun,

Large as a log of maple,
Upon a deuced little cart,

A load for father's cattle.

And every time they shoot it off,

It takes a horn of powder,
And makes a noise like father's gun,

Only a nation louder.

I went as nigh to one myself,

As Siah's underpinning ;
And father went as nigli again,

I thought the deuce was in him.

Cousin Simon grew so bold,

I thought he would have cock'd it ;

It scar'd me so, I shrink'd it off,
And hung by father's pocket.

And Captain Davis had a gun,

He kind of clapt his hand on't,
And stuck a crooked stabbing iron

Upon the little end on't.

And there I see a pumpkin shell

As big as mother's bason ;
And every time they touch'd it off,

They scamper'd like the nation.

I see a little barrel too,

The heads were made of leather,
They kuoek'd upon't with little clubs,

And call'd the folks together.

And there was Captain Washington,*

And gentlefolks about him,
They say he's grown so tarnal proud,

He will not ride without 'em.

He got him on his meeting clothes,

Upon a slapping stallion,
He set the world along in rows,

In hundreds and in millions.

* There was Captain Washington,
Upon a slapping stallion,
A giving orders to his men —
I guess there was a million.

And then the feathers on his hat,
They look d so tarnal fina,

I wasted pockily to get
To give to my Jemima.

And there they'd fife away lite fun,
And play on cornstalk fiddles,

And some had ribbons red as blood,
All wound about their middles.

The troopers, too, would gallop up,
And fire right in our faces ;

It scar'd me almost half to death,
To see them run such races.

Old Uncle Bam come there to change
Some paDCakes and some onions,

For 'lasses-cakes, to carry home
To give his wife and young ones.

But I can't tell you half I see.
They kept up such a smother;

So I took my hat off, made a bow,
And scamper'd home to mother.

The flaming ribbons in his hat,

They look'd so taring fine ah,
I wanted poekity to get,

To give to my Jemimah.

I see another snarl of men

A digging graves, they told me,
So tarnal long, so tarnal deep,

They 'tended they should hold me.
It scar'd me so, I hook'd it off,

Nor stop'd, as I remember,
Nor turn'd about, 'till I got home,

Lock'd up in mother's chamber.

"WILLIAM CIIAELES WELLS.
The pleasant and confiding autobiography pre-
fixed to the volume of Miscellanies by Dr. Wells,
informs us that he wa< born at Charleston, S. C,
in May, 1757. His father and mother were
both of Scottish birth, and emigrated to the
colony in 1753. By way of preventive to the
" disloyal principles which began, immediately
after the peace of 1763, to prevail throughout
America," his father arrayed the boy in "a tartan
coat, and a blue Scotch bonnet ; hoping by these
means to make him consider himself a Scotch-
man." A more efficacious course to the desired
result, was the removal of the son to Scotland,
where he was placed at Dumfries school, in his
tenth year. In 177'J he was removed to Edin-
burgh, and attended several of the lower classes
in the Universitj". The next year he returned to
Carolina, and remained quietly studying medicine
as an apprentice to Dr. Alexander Garden, until
" the American rebellion first broke out in New
England." Upon this his father, the printer of a
newspaper, and an unflinching Royalist, left for
England, and was followed three months after by
the son.

From 1775 to 1778 he was employed in the
study of his profession at Edinburgh. At the
end of that time he obtained the position of a
surgeon in a Scotch regiment in the service of
Holland. He had not been long in that country
before feeling himself aggrieved by the acts of
his commanding officer, who twice imprisoned
him, he resigned his commission, and the same
day challenged his late superior. The opponent
immediately arrested him, and transmitted a com-
plaint of insubordination to the higher powers.
The circumstances of the resignation of his com-
mission being made known, he was at once set at
liberty.

In 1780, " Carolina having been conquered by
the king's troops," he returned to Charleston to
settle his father's business, which had been greatly
injured by the war. While thus occupied he
wrote an article directed against Americans, who,
on being released on parole by the British, took
up arms against the mother country. The article
was ordered to be frequently printed in the
newspapers by the British commander, and its
author "thinks it highly probable, that it was
owing to this warning, that General Balfour and
Lord Moira thought themselves justified in putting
to death a Colonel Hayne," one of the most me-
morable acts of the southern campaigns.

On the evacuation of Charleston in 1782,
Wells removed to East Florida. Here he remained
until the- preliminaries of peace having been
signed, he returned, at his father's request, to

ROBERT DIHSMOOE.

405

Charleston, under the protection of a flag of
truce. On his arrival he was arrested " upon a
private suit, growing out of a transaction of his
brother's." He refused to give bail, on the ground
that doing so would be an admission of the in-
validity of the flag as a means of protection
against arrest, and was imprisoned. He applied
to the English commander in Florida for relief,
who after a delay of two months demanded his
release. The affair was finally settled by the
payment of the claim on which he was arrested,
and he immediately after returned to Florida.
He was shipwrecked off St. Augustine, but none
of the ship's company were lost or injured. In
May, 1784, he returned to England, and about
midsummer, 1785, "had the name of Br. Wells
affixed to the door" of his lodging. He " passed
several years almost without taking a single fee,"
but at last received some aid in the shape of an ap-
pointment as one of the physicians to the Fins-
bury Dispensary, with a salary of £50 a year.
It was ten years before his income from every
source amounted to £250.

During this period he published in 1792, An
Essay on Vision; in 1795, a paper in the Philo-
sophical Transactions, on the Influence which in-
cites the muscles of animals to contract, in Mr.
GalvanVs experiments ; in 1797, Experiments on
the Colour of the Blood; and in 1811, Experi-
ments and Observations on Vision.

In 1800 he was attacked with a slight fit of
apoplexy, the recurrence of which he warded oft',
as he supposes, by the adoption of vegetable diet.

In 1812 he commenced some researches on the
subject of Dew. Night exposure, and labor in
autumn in this matter, brought on an attack of
illness, which his medical friends anticipated
would cause his death in a few months. Upon
receiving this intelligence, he immediately set
about preparing his paper on Dew for publication,
as his scattered memoranda would have been of
no service to the world after his death. His
philanthropic endeavors secured his fame and per-
haps his life, for he recovered from his dangerous
disease.

His Essay was published in August, 1814. It
at once established the author in the high position
as a scientific writer which he has since main-
tained, the work having been recently cited by
Lyell, in his lectures in this country, as the best
authority on its subject. Its style, like that of
his other philosophical writings, is marked by its
ease and simplicity.

The restoration to health was but a temporary
respite from the attacks of disease to which the
closing years of his life were subjected. "His
autobiography was dictated by him at intervals,"
says the editor of his works, "during his illness,
after he had lost all hope of recovery, and while
he was uncertain whether he should live to finish
it, and when he was too feeble to speak long, or
to write much." It must be considered a proof
of extraordinary composure and vigor of mind
in such circumstances. The closing sentence is
dated August 28, 1817, and a brief note informs
us that their author died on the evening of the
18th of September following.

Dr. Wells's writings, with the exception of a
few brief biographical sketches, were all on medi-
cal and scientific topics. A volume of his works,

vol. i. — 30

Containing Essays on Vision and Dew, was pub-
lished in London in 1816.

ROBEET DINSMOOE.

In 1828 was published at Haverhill, Mass., a vo-
lume entitled, Incidental Poems, accompanied
with Letters, and a few select Pieces, mostly ori-
ginal, for their illustration, together with a Pre-
face and Sketch of the Author's Life, by Robert
Dinsmoor, the " Rustic Bard." This was a wri-
ter of originality, who penned verses in the Scot-
tish dialect and good Saxon English on occasional
topics, arising from personal incidents, the corre-
spondence of his friends, or his own emotions.
What he found worth living for he considered
good enough to write about, and set it down with
skill and simplicity. He belonged to a family of
Scotch Presbyterians, who had settled in the north
of Ireland, and had emigrated to America at the
beginning of the eighteenth century. He was
born at Windham in New Hampshire, October
7, 1757. His father (something of a rhymer too
in his day) was a soldier in the old French war.
The son followed the example, and at twenty
was at the battle of Saratoga, Returning he be-
came a farmer at Windham, and a zealous Pres-
byterian, passing his long life among the staunch
old settlers of Londonderry* The bard's early
education was of the scantiest, picked up at the
village school from Master Sauce, an old British
soldier, and a Master McKeen, " a man of pro-
found erudition, but very dilatory in attending,
who if he took in hand to catch a squirrel by the
way, would do it if it took him half the fore-
noon,"! from whom he learned reading and writ-
ing. His poetry seems to have come by nature
and the reading of Robert Burns. It had its
sentiment and its Doric humor, which did not
disdain very homely realities, as in the account
of his illness, of which the reader will be satisfied
on the production of a single stanza : —

With senna, salts, and castor oil,

They dreneh'd me every little while;
The strong disease such power could foil,
To yield full loth,
At length we found the foe recoil,
At the hot-bath.

^l^^'^/'

Whittier has described his old age in a genial
picture of the man and his writings : — " The last
time I saw him he was chaffering in the market-
place of my native village (Haverhill), swapping
potatoes, and onions, and pumpkins, for tea, cof-
fee, molasses, and, if the truth be told, New Eng-
land rum. Three-score years and ten, to use his
own words —

Hung o'er his back,
And bent him like a muckle pack.

Yet he still stood stoutly and sturdily in his thick
shoes of cowhide, like one accustomed to tread

* For some interesting memorials of this settlement. The
History of Londonderry, by the Rev. Edward L. Parker, pub-
lished in Boston in 1861, niav be consulted.

t Life of the Author, written b>' himself, in a letter to Silas
Betton, Esq., of Salem, N. H.

4:66

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LTEERATUEE

independently the soil of his own acres — his
broad, honest face, seamed by care, and darkened
by exposure to ' all the airts that blow,' and his
white hair flowing in patriarchal glory beneath
his felt hat. A genial, jovial, large-hearted old
man, simple as a child, and betraying, neither in
look nor manner, that he was accustomed to

Feed on thoughts which voluntary move
Harmonious numbers

" Peace to him. In the ancient burial-ground
of Windham, by the side of his ' beloved Molly,'
and in view of the old meeting-house, there is a
mound of earth, where, every spring, green grasses
tremble in the wind, and the warm sunshine calls
out the flowers. There, gathered like one of his
own ripe sheaves, the farmer-poet sleeps with his
fathers."*

BKTP"9 LAST ADVICE.

Written in lite seventeenth year of the author's age. on his fa-
ther's favorite old dvg, who had survived his lhtji year. It
was sent with the following note to William Dirmnoor,the
bard's uncle, who had requested a copy of it.

At your request, kind sir, I send it,
Skip's last advice — I long since penn'd it.

In honor to his name.
He was a dog of noble spirit,
Possessing talents, worth, and merit,

And died in honest fame.
The rational creation may

Learn wisdom from the brute —
Profound instruction they convey,

Sometimes in language mute.
Take heed thou, and read thou

This moral from my page,
And see now, with me now,

A base degenerate age.

Introduction.

This poor auld dog liv'd mony a year,

But now he did begin to fear

That death about the doors was creepin',

To whip him off when he was sleepin' ;

For now he was b.iith deaf an' dumb,

An' cou'dna hear when death wad come.

When he was young, b.'lith spry an' nimble,

The fear o' beasts ne'er made him tremble;

He try'd to keep the corn fiae bears,

An' help'd us aye to sing our prayeis;

But now his teeth were a' worn out,

An' him grown weak instead of stout,

He cou'dna sing he was sae weak,

An' I took pity for his sake.

He turn'd his een to me inviting,

An' sign'd to me to do Ins writing;

I took the hint, an' gat my pen,

But what to write I knew not then.

I by acquaintance knew him well,

An' by his looks his thoughts could tell,

What he advis'd, I to befriend 'im,

In Scottish rhyme have rightly penn'd 'em —

From those who want to hear these lines,

I crave th' attention o' their minds: —

Tent weel ! for 'tis Skip's last advice !
He warns ye a' now to be wise ;
Take heed, for he'll no tell you't twice,

For now he's gawin'
To lea' the filthy fleas an' lice,

That us'd to gnaw 'im.

* Old Portraits and Modern Sketches, p. 803.

After breakfast he lay down ;
Quoth he, " I fear I shall die soon,
Because I carina sing my tune,

I us'd to sing,
Till a' the hills an' vallies round

Like bells wad ring.

Hear me a' sizes o' my kind,

Baith young an' auld, keep this in mind,

An' hearken to wdiat I've design'd

Now to advise ye :
Be guid, an' they'll be hard to find,

That will despise ye.

Do a' you're able for your bluid,
And forward a' your masters' guid —
You ought to do 't since you're allow'd

To serve mankind ;
The best that e'er on four feet stood,

This law shall find.

Let generations yet to breed,

Keep mind 'o this, when we are dead!

I'm gaun the gate alack wi' speed,

0' a' the earth !
Wow ! but they're simpletons indeed

Wha live in mirth.

Don't you like those your guid time spend,
But aye think on your latter end ;
If you've done ill, try to amend,

An' gi'e aye praise,
An' thank the Ane wha did you send

Sae mony days.

Though like a lord man o'er

An' bang ye round wi' chairs an stools

An' bruise ye wi' the auld pot bails,

Mind not their powers —
Their bodies maun gang to the niools,

As weel as ours.

Now ere I quat, I'll ask ye a',
If deacons this a fau't can ea',
An' for the same hoist me awa'

Unto the Session,
An' gar me satisfy their law

For my transgression?

Gif ye say na then, I'll believ' it,
An' never let mysel' be griev't,
Nor o' my rest at night be reav't,

Nor be concern'd;
But say it is a lesson priev't,

Aye to be learn'd

I maun hae done, farewell, adieu!
Farewell to master Billy too,
I hae na breath to name cnou ;

Death's come to plunder —
He's taken me for ane 1 trow,

Sae I knock under."

THE POETS FAREWELL TO TIIE MUSES.
I.

Forbear, my friend, withdraw your plssi.
Ask not a song from one like me,

O'ercast with clouds of sorrow !
My spring of life, and summer's fled,
I mourn those darling comforts dead,

Regardless of to-morrow !
My harp is on the willow hung,

Nor dissipates the gloom !
My sweetest minstrel's all unstrung,

And silent as the tomb !

My lute too, is mute too,

While drops the trickling tear!

My organ makes jargon,

And grates my wounded ear.

ROBERT DIXSMOOR.

467

Farewell, yon mould'ring mansion, there,
Where first I drew the natal air,

And learn'd to prate and plaj'.
There rose a little filial band,
Beneath kind parents' fostering hand —

Their names let live for aye!
They taught their offspring there to real

And hymn their Maker's praise,
To say their catechism and creed,

And shun all vicious ways.

They careful and prayerful,

Their pious precepts press'd,

"With ample example

Their children still were bless'd.

in.
Kind man ! my gunvdinn and my sire,
Friend of the muse and poet's lyre,

With genuine wit and glee,
How sweetly did his numbers glide,
When all delighted by his side,

He read his verse to me!
The parallel was drawn between

The freedom we possess'd,
And where our fathers long had been

By lords and bishops press'd.

His rhyme then did chime then,

Like music through my heart;

Desiring, aspiring,

I strove to gain his art.

IV.

No more I'll tune the poet's lyre,
No more I'll ask the muses' fire,

To warm my chilling breast;
No more I'll feel the genial flame,
Nor seek a poet's deathless fame,

But silent sink to rest.
Farewell, the mount, eall'd Jenny's Hill —

Ye stately oaks and pines!
Farewell, yon pretty purling rill,

Which from its brow declines,

Meandering and wandering

The woodbines sweet among,

Where pleasure could measure

The bobyliukorn'e song!

v.
On summer evenings, calm and bright,
O'er yonder summit's towering height,

With pleasure did I roam ;
Perhaps to seek the robin's young,
Or the mavis' warbling tongue,

And bring the heifers home —
See from my foot, the night-hawk rise,

And leave her unfledged pair,
Then quick descending from the skies,

Like lightning cut the air.

The hares there, she scares there,

And through the pines they trip,

They're sought then, and caught then,

By my companion, Skip.

VI.

Andover's steeples there were seen,
While o'er the vast expanse between,

I did with wonder gaze ;
There, as it were beneath my feet,
I view'd my father's pleasant seat —

My joy in younger days.
There Windham Range, in flowery vest,

Was seen in robes of green,
While Gobbet's Pond, from east to west.

Spread her bright waves between.

Cows lowing, cocks crowing.

While frogs on Cobbet's shore,

Lay croaking and mocking
The bull's tremendous roar.

The fields no more their glories wear,
The forests now stand bleak and bare,

Alt of their foliage stript;
The rosy lawn, the flowery mead,
Where lambkins used to play and feed,

By icy fingers nipt.
No more I'll hear with ravish'd ears,

The music of the wood,
Sweet scenes of youth, now gone with ye:ir3

Long pass'd beyond the flood.

Bereaved and grieved,

I solitary wail,

With sighing and crying,

My drooping spirits fail.

vni.
No more will I the Spring Brook trace,
No more with sorrow view the place

Where Mary's wash-tub stood,
No more I'll wander there alone,
And lean upon the mossy stone,

Where once she pil'd her wood.
'Twas there she bleached her linen cloth,

By yonder bass-wood tree ;
From that sweet stream she made her broth,

Her pudding anil her tea,

Whose rumbling and tumbling

O'er rocks with quick despatch,

Made ringing and singing,

None but her voice could match.

IX.

Farewell, sweet scenes of rural life,
My faithful friends and loving wife,

But transient blessings nil.
Bereft of those, I sit and mourn ;
The spring of life will ne'er return,

Chill death grasps great and small;
I fall before thee, God of truth 1

O, hear my prayer and cry ;
Let me enjoy immortal youth,

With saints above the sky.

Thy praise there, I'll raise there.

With all my heart and soul,

Where pleasure and treasure,

In boundless oceans rolL

THE SPARROW.*

Poor innocent and hapless Sparrow !

Why should my moul-board gie thee sorrow

This day thou'll chirp, an' mourn the morrow.

Wi' anxious breast —
The plough has turn'd the mould'ring furrow

Deep o'er thy nest.

Just in the middle o' the hill.

Thy nest was plac'd wi' curious skill ;

There I espy'd thy little bill

Beneath the shade —
In that sweet bower secure frae ill,

Thine eggs thou laid.

* Robert Dinsmoor to, Silas Button.

Mr Bear Sir — I take tlie liberty to address the following
poem to you, and 'wish you to correct it and send me your can-
did remarks upon it. I will not say criticism, lest it should
prevent my ever writing any more. It was occasioned by my
crushing a nest of Sparrow's eggs, when ploughing among the
corn. July 20, 1612. And about that time, I saw a well-done
piece in the Haverhill Intelligencer, in imitation of Burns's
delightful Nanny, which induced me to adopt the Scottish dia-
lect, that it might the better resemble his beautiful mountain
daisy. — I call it The Sparrow.

408

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Five corns o' maize had there been drappit,
A.11' through the stalks thine head, thou pappit ;
The drawing nowt couldna' be stappit,

I quickly foun' —
Syne frae thy cozie nest thou happit,

An' fluttering ran.

The sklentin Btane beguil'd the sheer,
In vain I try'd the plough to steer;
A wee bit stumpie i' the rear,

Cam' 'tween my legs —
An' to the jee side gart me veer,

An' crush thine eggs.

Alas! alas! my bonnie birdie!

Thy faitlifu' mate flits roun' to guard ye.

Connubial love! a pattern wordy

The pious priest!
"What savage heart could be sae hardy,

As wound thy breast ?

Thy ruin was nae fau't o' mine,
(It gars me greet to see thee pine ;)
It may be serves his great design,

Who governs all ;
Omniscience tents wi' eyes divine,

The Sparrow's fall.

A pair more friendly ne'er were married.
Their joys an' pains were equal carried ;
But now, ah me ! to grief they're hurried,

"Without remead ;
When all their hope an' treasure's buried

'Tis sad indeed.

How much like theirs are human dools 1
Their sweet wee bairns laid i' the mools,
That sovereign Pow'r who nature rules,

Has said so be it ;
Eut poor bli:i' mortals are sic' fools,

They canna' see it.

Nae doubt, that He wha first did mate us,

Has fixt our lot as sure as fate is,

And when lie wounds, he disna' hate us,

But only this —
He'll gar the ills that here await us,

"i'ield lasting bliss.

Robert Dinsmoor to Den. Isaac Cochran, of Antrim, N. H., his
mother's brother, who teas a lii utenant at the taking of Ge-
neral Rurgotjne, October 17, 1TT7. A Short Review of that
Expedition.*

My faithful friend, and uncle, kind,

I would bring some things to your mind,

Which still impress'd on mine I find,

By recollection ;
That seems my heart with yours to bind,

In strong affection.

From my first dawn of life you've known me ;
When nature on the world had thrown me,
You did a first-born nephew own me,

Or younger brother ;
And friendship ever since have shown me,

Kind like my mother.

Childhood and youth, manhood and age,
You've been my friend in every stage ;
Sometimes in sport, we would engage

Our nerves to try ;
Sometimes, t' explore the music page,

The genius ply.

"When British laws would us enthral,
Our country for defence did call ;

* This was not the first campaign they hud been in the war
together.

Then martial fire inspir'd us all,

To arms we flew ;
And as a soldier, stand or fall,

I went with you I

O'er western hills we travell'd fj?,
Pass'd Saratoga the site of war,
Where Burgoyne roll'd his feudal car,

Down Hudson's strand ;
And Gates, our glorious western star,

Held high command.

From the green ridge, we glanc'd our eyes,
Where village flames illum'd the skies,
Destruction there was no surprise,

On Hudson's shore!
Though smoke in burning pillars rise,

And cannons roar 1

But to Fort Edward* we were sent,
Through icy Barteuskiln we went,
And on that plain we pitch'd our tent,

'Gainst rain and snow ;
Our orders there, was to prevent

The flying foe.

By counter orders, back we came,
And cross'd the Hudson s rapid stream.
At Schuyler's Mills, f of no small fame.

Thence took our post,
Near Burgoyne's line, with fixed aim,

To take his host !

With courage bold, we took the field,
Our foes no more their swords could wield,
God was our strength, and He our shield,

A present aid !
Proud Burgoyne's army there did yield,

All captive made !

Great Britain's honor there was stain'd,
We sang a glorious victory gain'd!
From hence our States a rank obtain'd,

'Mongst nations great ;
Our future glory was ordain'd,

As sure as fate !

To Windham, back with joy we turn'd,
Where parents dear our absence mour:. d ;
And our fair friends in rapture burn'd,

To see our faces !
Sweet pearly drops their cheeks adorn'd.

In our embraces !

When all our vanquish 'd foes were fled,
Love, peace, and harmony were shed,
Like oil descending on the head,

Or milk or wine ;
Williams,:): the man of God us fed,

With food divine.

0 ! let not you and I forget,
How often we've together met,
Like Heman and Jeduthon,§ set

In God's own house ;
And solemnly his table at,

Renew 'd our vowsl

And when the sacred scene was past,

We sang Doxology at last,

To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,

United Three !
One God, our souls redeemed hast,

So let it be !

* Fort Edward lies on the east side of the river, twelve
miles above Saratoga.

+ Then called Fort Miller — the remains of the old fort were
then to be seen.

X Rev. Simon "Williams.

§ The two principal leaders of the singing in the Congrega-
tion.

FISHER AMES.

469

While reason in her seat remains,

And blood runs streaming through my veins,

Or memory her power retains,

I shall review.
And think upon the various scenes,

I've pass'd with you.

FISHEE AMES.
The traditional reputation of Ames for eloquence,
Landed down by his friends and fellow politicians,
has not expired in his published writings. One
of these anecdotes which we heard related, ex-
hibits the man ; sensitive, oratorical, and poetical
in his ordinary conversation. The news of the
death of Hamilton, which gave occasion to one
of the most pathetic and brilliant of his oratori-
cal essays, was communicated to him at Dedham
by two of his friends, who went thither for the
purpose. They found him on his grounds, walk-
ing with his stick in his hand, superintending
some carpenters at work for him. He was told
of the death of Hamilton, and its manner. Ab-
sorbed in the intelligence, he expressed himself in
an eloquent soliloquy : "A great man has fallen"
— and continued enumerating the virtues of Ham-
ilton, and his relations to his times, when, as he
looked down, he struck a thistle with his cane.
It supplied him with his favorite imager}' :
" Salient and pungent, in the acuteness of his
mind," he proceeded, "as the thorn on that this-
tle ; soft and gentle in the affections of his heart,
as its down."

The part borne by Ames in politics identifies
him with the history of Federalism. His statue
should always preserve its niche among the states-
men of his country.

Fisher Ames was born at Dedham, near Boston,
April 9, 1758. Of his early career we have but
scant mention in the "Life" prefixed to his
writings by President Kirkland, a composition

which is rather a eulogy than a biography.* His
family ran back to the Rev. William Ames, the
author, in England, of the Medulla Theologian.
His grandfather and father were physicians, the
latter, Dr. Nathaniel Ames, having acquired a
household reputation throughout New England
by his calculations as an astronomer, in his alma-
; nacs or Astronomical Diaries, which were pub-
lished successively from the year 1726 to the
year 1775.t He kept a tavern at Dedham, which
in those days added to his celebrity and influence.

Fisher Ames gave early attention to classical
literature, for which he maintained a fondness
through life. He was a student of Harvard, re-
ceiving his degree in 1774. He then passed a
short time as a teacher, studied law in the office
of William Tudor, wrote some essays on the poli-
tics of his state in the new-papers, signed Lucius
Junius Brutus and Camillas, in 1780; was chosen
representative to the state legislature in 1788;
was the first representative from Suffolk district
, to the first Congress under the Constitution,
where lie remained during the whole term of
Washington's administration, ardently advocating
the federal policy, and delivering his great speech;
in the House of Representatives, on sustaining
the provisions of the British Treaty, April 28,
1796. It was extorted from his feeble health by
the pressure of the times, and remains a master-
piece of argument supported by good sense and a
high honor. The skill displayed in his oratorical
policy is admirable. It courteously winds round
the opposition, with its generous allowances, and
strangles them in its embraces.

After he left Congress, he passed hi ; time most-
ly in retirement on his farm at Dedham, exer-
cising his pen in a large correspondence on public
affairs, and watching the position of his country
towards France with unabated interest. In Feb-
ruary,' 1800, he delivered a eulogy on Washing-
ton, at the request of the Legislature of Massa-
chusetts, a statesmanlike and eloquent view of
the character and position of his hero.

His health, broken from the time of his con-
gressional life, rapidly declined till ho expired on
the anniversary of the National Independence, July
4, 1808, having just completed his fiftieth year.

The qualities of his mind were delicate sensi-
bility, an instinctive sagacity for the higher
moralities of politics, a fine poetical vein in an
active fancy, which combined with his physical
accomplishments of a manly, winning attitude
and well-toned voice, to render him a most effi-
cient orator.

The quick and forgetive fancy of Ames led to
that condensation of expression which is the pe-
culiarity of his writings. He thought in figures.
What labored deduction could so well express the
twin qualities of Hamilton's private and public
life as this brilliant poetical sentence : " It is not
as Apollo, enchanting the shepherds with his lyre,
that we deplore him ; it is as Hercules, treache-
rously slain in the midst of his unfinished labors,
leaving the world overrun with monsters." Or
what finer transition could there be from the

* This life was originally prefixed to the collection of Ames's
speeches and writings in 1809.

+ They were published by father mid son ; to the year 1TG5
by N. Ames, and after that by N. Ames, Jr.

470

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

softness of grief to its energy, than in this passage
of lament, steeped in the very life-blood of the
heart: "The tears that flow on this fond recital
■will never dry up. My heart, penetrated with
the remembrance of the man, grows liquid as I
write, and I could pour it out like water. I could
weep, too, for my country, which, mournful as it
is, does not know the half of its loss. It deeply
laments, when it turns its eyes back and sees
what Hamilton was ; but my soul stiffens with
despair when I think what Hamilton would have
been." How finely he compares the course of
Washington to that of the river on which he
dwelt: "The unambitious life of Washington,
declining fame yet courted by it, seemed, like the
Ohio, to choose its long way through solitudes,
diffusing fertility ; or, like his own Potomac,
widening and deepening his channel, as he ap-
proaches the sea, and displaying most the useful-
ness and serenity of his greatness towards the
end of his course." In his fears of the progress
of democracy, he looks in vain for any power to
check its excesses: "Surely," says he, "not the
Judiciary, for we cannot expect the office of the
priesthood from the victim at the altar." Again
he writes : " We have no Juvenal ; and if we
had, he would scorn to dissect the vice that wants
firmness for the knife, to elevate that he might
hit his object, and to dignity low profligacy to be
the vehicle of a loathsome immortality." Of the
supporters of the French Revolution, he wrote :
"The 'enlightened' philosophists surveyed the
agitations of the world as if they did not live in
it ; as if they occupied, as mere spectators, a safe
position in some star, and beheld revolutions
sometimes brightening the disk of this planet
with their fires, and at others dimming it with
their vapors. They could contemplate, unmoved,
the whirlwind, lifting the hills from their base
and mixing their ruins with the clouds. They
could see the foundations of society gaping in
fissures, as when an earthquake struggles from the
centre. A true philosopher is superior to humani-
ty ; he could walk at ease over this earth if it
were unpeopled ; he could tread, with all the
pleasure of curiosity, on its cinders the day after
the final conflagration." In his Lessons from
History, comparing the policy of Jefferson
towards France with that of England in the old
French war, he has this bold illustration : " Great
Britain looked at these aggressions, and she saw
in the whole aspect of affairs, as in a looking-
glass, blotches of dishonor, like leprosy, in her
face, if she should bear these wrongs with a
tameness that she foresaw would multiply
them."

The conclusion of his speech on the British
Treaty, when he alludes to his feeble health, could
hardly be surpassed for delicacy or force : * " I

* Dr. Charles Caldwell, who 'attended the debates, in his
Autobiography thus speaks of Ames's eloquence: "He was
decidedly one of the most splendid rhetoricians of the age.
Two of his speeches, in a special manner — that on Jay's treaty,
and that usually called his ' Tomahawk Speech," (because it in-
cluded some resplendent passages on Indian massacres) — were
the most brilliant and fascinating specimens of eloquence I
have ever heard : yet have I listened to some of the most cele-
brated speakers in the British parliament — among others, to
Wilberforee ami Mackintosh, Plunket, Brougham and Can-
Ding ; and Dr. Priestley, who was familiar with the oratory of
Pitt the father and Pitt the son, and also with that of Burke
and Fox, made to myself the acknowledgment, that, in his
own words, the speech of Ames, on the British Treaty, was

have been led by my feelings to speak more at
length than I had intended. Yet I have perhaps
as little personal interest in the event as any one
here. There is, I believe, no member, who will
not think his chance to be a witness of the con-
sequences greater than mine. If, however, the
vote should pass to reject, and a spirit should rise,
as it will, with the public disorders, to make
' confusion worse confounded,' even I, slender
and almost broken as my hold upon life is, may
outlive the government and constitution of my
country."

The correspondence of Ames, recently pub-
lished* by his son, Seth Ames, shows the politi-
cian in his most confidential moods, writing to
his political friends on the polities in which he
bore a personal part, from his introduction to the
first Congress under the Constitution, in New
York, in 1780, to his last Dedham letters to
Timothy Pickering and Josiah Quincy, at the
close of the year preceding his death. The party
spirit of Federalism lives again in these pages.
Well grounded in the principles of conservatism,
and with a deeply founded respect for the Consti-
tution, Ames mingled with his convictions the
restless anticipations of a mind given to despon-
dency. For a new state, he was something of a
croaker ; a man constitutionally timid. There
were " the fears of the brave " in his composition ;
but, if he doubted of affairs, it was with a pa-
triotic motive and acute philosophic argument to
support him. " Government," he writes from
Philadelphia, to his constant correspondent,
George Richards ilinot, " here is in the cradle,
and good men must watch their own child, or it
will die and be made away with." No one watch-
ed more vigilantly than Ames, or cried "Wolf!
wolf!" to the child oftener.

The letters of Ames are sharply written, with
point and occasional felicities of expression, but
they are not elaborate or highly finished compo-
sitions, rarely partaking of the essay character of
some of Webster's epistles.

In his religious views, Ames was, by choice
and principle, a member of the Protestant Epis-
copal Church.

MO.NSTEOUS EOLATIONS IS NEWSPAPEES.+

(Addressed to Printers.)

It seems ns if newspaper wares were made to suit
a market, as much as any other. The starers, and
wonderers, and gapers, engross a very large share
of the attention of all the sons of the type. Extra-
ordinary events multiply upon us surprisingly.
Gazettes, it is seriously to be feared, will not long
allow room to any thiDg that is not loathsome or
shocking. A newspaper is pronounced to be very
lean and destitute of matter, if it contains no account
of murders, suicides, prodigies, or monstrous births.

Some of these tales excite horror, and others dis-
gust; yet the fashion reigns, like a tyrant, to relish
wonders, and almost to relish nothing else. Is this
a reasonable taste ? or is it monstrous and worthy
of ridicule? Is the History of Xewgate the only
one worth reading ? Are oddities only to be hunf-

'the most bewitching piece of parliamentary oratory he had
ever listened to.' " — CaldwdTs Autoliography, 114.

* Works of Fisher Ames, with a selection from his Speech/*
and Correspondence. Edited by his son, Seth Ames. Two"
vols. Svo. Boston. Little. Brown & Co. 1?54.

+ First published in the Palladium, October, 1SC1.

FI3IIER AMES.

47J

ed ? Pray tell us, men of ink, if our free presses are
to diffuse information, and we, the poor ignorant
people, ean get it in no other way than by newspa-
pers, what knowledge we are to glean from the
blundering lies, or the tiresome truths about thunder
storms, that, strange to to' 1 K kill oxen, or burn
barns ; and cats, that bring two-headed kittens ; and
sows, that eat their own pigs ? The crowing of a
hen is supposed to forebode cuckledom ; and the
ticking of a little bug in the wall threatens yellow
fever. It seems really as if our newspapers were
busy to spread superstition. Omens, and dreams,
and prodigies, are recorded, as if they were worth
minding. One would think our gazettes were in-
tended for Roman readers, who were silly enough to
make account of such tilings. We ridicule the
papists for their credulity ; yet, if all the trumpery
of our papers is believed, we have little right to
laugh at any set of people on earth ; and if it is not
believed, why is it printed?

Surely extraordinary events have not the best
title to our studious attention. To study nature or
man, we ought to know things that are in the ordi-
nary course, not the unaccountable things that hap-
pen out of it.

This country is said to measure seven hundred
millions of acres, and is inhabited by almost six
millions of people. Who can doubt, then, that a
great many crimes will be committed, and a great
many strange things will happen every seven
years? There will be thunder showers, that will
split tough white oak trees: and hail storms, that
will cost some farmers the full amount of twenty
shillings to mend their glass windows ; there will
be taverns, and boxing matches, and elections, and
gouging and drinking, and love and murder, and
running in debt, and running away, and suicide.
Now, if a man supposes eight, or ten, or twenty
dozen of these amusing events will happen in a sin-
gle year, is he not just as wise as another man, who
reads fifty columns of amazing particulars, and, of
course, knows that they have happened?

This state has almost one hundred thousand
dwelling houses; it would be strange if all of them
should escape fire for twelve months. Yet is it
very profitable for a man to become a deep student
of all the accidents by which they are consumed?
He should take good care of his chimney corner, and
put. a fender before the back-log, before he goes to
bed. Having done this, he may let his aunt or
grandmother read by day, or meditate by night, the
terrible newspaper articles of fires ; how a maid
dropped asleep reading a romance, and the bed
clothes took fire ; how a boy, searching in a garret
for a hoard of nuts, kindled some flax ; and how a
mouse, warming his tail, caught it on fire, and car-
ried it into his hole in the floor.

Some of the shocking articles in the papers raise
simple, and very simple, wonder ; some terror ; and
some horror and disgust. Now what instruction is
there in these endless wonders? Who is the wiser
or happier for reading the accounts of them? On
the contrary, do they not shock tender minds, and
addle shallow brains? They make a thousand old
maids, and eight or ten thousand booby boys,
afraid to go to bed alone. Worse than this hap-
pens ; for some eccentric minds are turned to mis-
chief by such accounts as they receive of troops of
incendiaries burning our cities: the spirit of imita-
tion is contagious ; and boys are found unaccounta-
bly bent to do as men do. When the man flew
from the 6teeple of the North church fifty years
ago, every unlucky boy thought of nothing" but
Hying from a sign-post.

It was once a fashion to stab heretics ; and Ra-

vaillac, who stabbed Henry the Fourth of France,
the assassin of the Duke of Guise, and of the Duke
of Buckingham, with many others, only followed
the fashion. Is it not in the power of newspapers
to spread fashions; and by dinning burnings and
murders in everybody's ears, to detain all rash and
mischievous tempers on such subjects, long enough
to wear out the first impression of horror, and to pre-
pare them to act what they so familiarly contem-
plate? Yet there seems to be a sort of rivalship
among printers, who shall have the most wonders,
and the strangest and most horrible crimes. This
taste will multiply prodigies. The superstitious
Romans used to forbid reports of new prodigies,
while they were performing sacrifices on such ac-
counts.

Every horrid story in a newspaper produces a
shock ; but, after some time, this shock lessens. At
length, such stories are so far from giving pain, that
they rather raise curiosity, and we desire nothing so
much as the particulars of terrible tragedies. The
wonder is as easy as to stare ; and the most vacant
mind is the most in need of such resources as cost no
trouble of scrutiny or reflection ; it is a sort of food
for idle curiosity that is readily chewed and digested.

On the whole, we may insist that the increasing
fashion for printing wonderful tales of crimes and
accidents is worse than ridiculous, as it corrupts
both the public taste and morals. It multiplies
fables, prodigious monsters, and crimes, and thus
makes shocking things familiar ; while it withdraws
all popular attention from familiar truth, because it
is not shocking.

Now, Messrs. Printers. I pray the whole hon-
ourable craft to banish as many murders, and horrid
accidents, and monstrous births and prodigies from
their gazettes, as their readers will permit them ;
and, by degrees, to coax tliein back to contemplate
life and manners ; to consider common events with
some common sense; and to study nature where she
can be known, rather than in those of her ways
where she really is, or is represented to be, inexpli-
cable.

Strange events are facts, and as such should be
mentioned, but with brevity and in a cursory man-
ner. They afford no ground for popular reasoning
or instruction ; and, therefore, the horrid details
that make each particular hair stiffen and stand up-
right in the reader's head ought not to be given.
In short, they must be mentioned ; but sensible
printers and sensible readers will think that way of
mentioning them the best that impresses them least
on the public attention, and that hurries them on
the most swiftly to be forgotten.

A 8KETCII OF THE CHARACTER OF ALEXANDER nAMILTON.

The following Sketch, written immediately after the death
of the ever to be lamented Hamilton, was read to a select
company of friends, and at their desire it first appeared in the
Repertory, July, 1804.

It is with really great men as with great literary
works, the excellence of both is best tested by the
extent and durableness of their impression. The
public has not suddenly, but after an experience of
five-and-twenty years, taken that impression of the
just celebrity of Alexander Hamilton, that nothing
but his extraordinary intrinsic merit could have
made, and still less could have made so deep and
maintained so long. In this case, it is safe and cor-
rect to judge by effects; we sometimes calculate the
height of a mountain, by measuring the length of its
shadow.

It is not a party, for party distinctions, to the
honor of our citizens be it said, arc confounded bv
the event; it is a nation that weeps for its bereave-

472

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

merit. We weep, as the Romans did over the ashes
of G-crmanicus. It is a thoughtful, foreboding sor-
row, that takes possession of the heart, and sinks it
with no counterfeited heaviness.

It is here proper and not invidious to remark, that
as the emulation excited by conducting great affairs
commonly trains and exhibits great talents, it is sel-
dom the case that the fairest and soundest judgment
of a great man's merit is to be gained, exclusively,
from his associates in counsel or in action. Persons
of conspicuous merit themselves are, not unfrequent-
ly, bad judges, and still worse witnesses on this
point; often rivals, sometimes enemies; almost al-
ways unjust, and still oftener envious or cold. The
opinions they give to the public, as well as those
they privately formed for themselves, are of course
discolored with the hue of their prejudices and re-
sentments.

But the body of the people, who cannot feel a
spirit of rivnlship towards those whom they see ele-
vated by nature and education so far above their
heads, are more equitable, and, supposing a compe-
tent time and opportunity for information ou the
subject, more intelligent judges. Even party rancor,
eager to maim the living, scorns to strip the slain.
The most hostile passions are soothed or baffled by
the fall of their antagonist. Then, if not sooner, the
very multitude will fairly decide on character, ac-
cording to their experience of its impression ; and
as long as virtue, not unfrequently for a time ob-
scured, is ever respectable when distinctly seen,
they cannot withhold, and they will not stint their
admiration.

If, then, the popular estimation is ever to be taken
for the true one, the uncommonly profound public
sorrow for the death of Alexander Hamilton suf-
ficiently explains and vindicates itself. He had not
made himself dear to the passions of the multitude
by condescending, in defiance of his honor and con-
science, to become their instrument ; he is not la-
mented, because a skilful flatterer is now mute for
ever. It was by the practice of no art, by wearing
no disguise; it was not by accident, or by the levity
or profligacy of party, but in despite of its malignant
misrepresentation ; it was by bold and inflexible ad-
herence to truth, by loving his country better than
himself, preferring its interests to its favor, and serv-
ing it when it was unwilling and unthankful, in a
manner that no other person could, that he rose ;
and the true popularity, the homage that is paid to
virtue, followed him. It was not in the power of
party or envy to pull him down; but he rose with
the refulgence of a star, till the very prejudice that
could not reach, was at length almost read3' to
adore him.

It is indeed no imagined wound that inflicts so
keen an anguish. Since the news of his death, the
novel and strange events of Europe have succeeded
each other unregarded; the nation has been en-
chained to its subject, and broods over its grief,
which is more deep than eloquent, which though
dumb, can make itself felt without utterance, and
which does not merely pass, but like an electrical
shock, at the same instant smites and astonishes, as
it passes from Georgia to New Hampshire.

There is a kind of force put upon our thoughts by
this disaster, which detains and rivets them to a
closer contemplation of those resplendent virtues,
that are now lost, except to memory, and there they
wdl dwell for ever.

That writer would deserve the fame of a public
benefactor who could exhibit the character of Ham-
ilton, with the truth and force that all who inti-
mately knew him conceived it ; his example would
then take the same ascendant as his talents. The por-

trait alone, however exquisitely finished, could not
inspire genius where it is not; but if the world
should again have possession of so rare a gift, it
might awaken it where it sleeps, as by a spark from
heaven's own altar; for surely if there is any thing
like divinity in man, it is in his admiration of vir-
tue.

But who alive can exhibit this portrait ? If our
age, on that supposition more fruitful than any other,
had produced two Hamiltons, one of them might
then have depicted the other. To delineate genius
one must feel its power ; Hamilton, and he alone,
with all its inspirations, could have transfused its
whole fervid soul into the picture, and swelled its
lineaments into life. The writer's mind, expanding
with his own peculiar enthusiasm, and glowing with
kindred fires, would then have stretched to the di-
mensions of his subject.

Such is the infirmity of human nature, it is very
difficult for a man who is greatly the superior of his
associates, to preserve their friendship without
abatement ; yet, though he could not possibly con-
ceal his superiority, he was so little inclined to dis-
play it, he. was so much at ease in its possession,
that no jealousy or envy chilled his bosom, when
his friends obtained praise. He was indeed so
entirely the friend of his friends, so magnanimous,
so superior, or more properly so insensible to all
exclusive selfishness of spirit, so frank, so ardent,
yet so little overbearing, so much trusted, admired,
i beloved, almost adored, that his power over their
affections was entire, and lasted through his life.
We do not believe that he left any worthy man his
foe who had ever been his friend.

Men of the most elevated minds have not always
the readiest discernment of character. Perhaps he
was sometimes too sudden and too lavish in bestow-
ing his confidence ; his manly spirit, disdaining arti-
fice, suspected none. But while the power of his
friends over him seemed to have no limits, and
really had none, in respect to those things which
were of a nature to be yielded, no man, not the
Roman Cato himself, was more inflexible on every
point that touched, or only seemed to touch, inte-
grity and honor. With him, it was not enough to be
unsuspected ; his bosom would have glowed, like a
furnace, at its own whispers of reproach. Mere
purity would have seemed to him below praise;
and such were his habits, and such his nature, that
the pecuniary temptations, which many others can
only with great exertion and self-denial resist, had
no attractions for him. He was very far from ob-
stinate ; yet, as his friends assailed his opinions with
less profound thought than he had devoted to them,
they were seldom shaken by discussion. He de-
fended them, however, with as much mildness as
force, and evinced, that if he did not yield, it was
not for want of gentleness or modesty.

The tears that flow on this fond recital will never
dry up. My heart, penetrated with the remem-
brance of the man, grows liquid as I write, and I
could pour it out like water. I could weep too for
my country, which, mournful as it is, does not know
the half of its loss. It deeply laments, when it
turns its eyes back, and sees what Hamilton was ;
but my soul stiffens with despair when I think what
Hamilton would have been.

His social affections and his private virtues are
not, however, so properly the object of public atten-
tion, as the conspicuous and commanding qualities
that gave him his fame and influence in the world.
It is not as Apollo, enchanting the shepherds with
his lyre, that we deplore him ; it is as Hercules,
treacherously slnin in the midst of his unfinished
labors, leaving the world overrun with monsters.

FISHER AMES.

473

His early life we pass over; though his heroic
spirit in the army has furnished a theme that is
dear to patriotism and will be sacred to glory.

In all the different stations iu which a life of
active usefulness has placed him, we find him not
more remarkably distinguished by the extent, than
by the variety and versatility of his talents. Iu
every place he made it apparent, that no other man
could have filled it so well; and in times of critical
importance, ill which alone he desired employment,
his services were justly deemed absolutely indis-
pensable. As secretary of the treasury, his was
the powerful spirit that presided over the chaos :

Confusion beard his voice, and wild uproar
Stood ruled

Indeed, in organizing the federal government in
1TS9, every man of either sense or candor will al-
low, the difficulty seemed greater than the first-rate
abilities could surmount. The event has shown that
his abilities were greater than those difficulties. He
surmounted them — and Washington's administration
was the most wise a id beneficent, the most prospe-
rous, and ought to be the most popular, that ever
was intrusted with the affairs of a nation. Great as
was Washington's merit, much of it in plan, much
in execution, will of course devolve upon his minis-
ter.

As a lawyer, his comprehensive genius reached
the principles of his profession ; he compassed its ex-
tent, he fathomed its profound, perhaps even more
familiarly and easily, than the ordinary rules of its
practice. With most men law is a trade ; with him
it was a science.

As a statesman, he was not more distinguished by
the great extent of his views, than by the caution
with which he provided against impediments, and
the watchfulness of his care over right and the lib-
erty of the subject. Iu none of the many revenue
bills which he framed, though committees reported
them, is there to be found a single clause that savors
of despotic power; not one that the sagest champions
of law and liberty would, on that ground, hesitate to
approve and adopt.

It is rare that a man, who owes so much to na-
ture, descends to seek more from industry ; but he
seemed to depend on industry, as if nature had done
nothing for him. His habits of investigation were
very remarkable ; his mind seemed to cling to his
subject till he had exhausted it. Hence the uncom-
mon superiority of his reasoning powers, a su-
periority that seemed to be augmented from every
source, and to be fortified by every auxiliary, learn-
ing, taste, wit, imagination, and eloquence. These
were embellished and enforced by his temper and
manners, by his fame and his virtues. It is difficult,
in the midst of such various excellence, to say iu
what particular the effect of his greatness was most
manifest. No man more promptly discerned truth ;
no man more clearly displayed it ; it was not merely
made visible, it seemed to come bright with illumi-
nation from his lips. But prompt and clear as he
was, fervid as Demosthenes, like Cicero full of re-
source, he was not less remarkable for the copious-
ness and completeness of his argument, that left lit-
tle for cavil, and nothing for doubt. Some men take
their strongest argument as a weapon, and use no
other; but he left nothing to be inquired for more,
nothing to be answered. He not only disarmed his
adversaries of their pretexts and objections, but he
stripped them of all excuse for having urged them :
he confounded and subdued as well as convinced.
He indemnified them, however, by making his dis-
cussion a complete map of his subject, so that his
opponents might, indeed, feel ashamed of their mis-.

takes, but they could not repeat them. In fact, it
was no common effort that could preserve a really
able antagonist from becoming his convert; for the
truth, which his researches so distinctly presented
to the understanding of others, was rendered almost
irresistibly commanding and impressive by the love
and reverence which, it was ever apparent, he pro-
foundly cherished for it in his own. While patri-
otism glowed in his heart, wisdom ble:n'ed in his
speech her authority with her charms.

Such, also, is the character of his writings. Ju-
diciously collected, they will be a public trea-
sure.

No man ever more disdained duplicity, or carried
frankness further than he. This gave to his politi-
cal opponents some temporary advantages, and cur-
rency to some popular prejudices, which he would
have lived down if his death had not prematurely
dispelled them. He knew that factions have ever
iu the end prevailed iu free states; and, as he saw
no security (and who living can see any adequate?)
against the destruction of that liberty which he
loved, and for which he was over ready to devote
his life, he spoke at all times according to his anx-
ious forebodings ; and his enemies interpreted all
that he said according to the supposed interest of
their party.

But he ever extorted confidence, even when he
most provoked opposition. It was impossible to
deny that he was a patriot, and such a patriot as,
seeking neither popularity nor office, without arti-
fice, without meanness, the best Romans in their
best days would have admitted to citizenship and to
the consulate. Virtue so rare, so pure, so bold, by
its very purity and excellence inspired suspicion as
a prodigy. His enemies judged of him by them-
selves; so splendid and arduous were his services,
they could not find it in their hearts to believe that
they were disinterested.

Unparalleled as they were, they were nevertheless
no otherwise requited than by the applause of all
good men, and by his own enjoyment of the spec-
tacle of that national prosperity and honor which
was the effect of them. After facing calumny, and
triumphantly surmounting an unrelenting persecu-
tion, he retired from office with clean, though empty
hands, as rich as reputation and an unblemished in-
tegrity could make him.

Some have plausibly, though erroneously infer-
red, from the great extent of his abilities, that his
ambition was inordinate. This is a mistake. Such
men as have a painful consciousness that their
stations happen to be far more exalted than their
talents, are generally the most ambitious. Hamil-
ton, on the contrary, thougli he had many competi-
tors, had no rivals ; for he did not thirst for power,
nor would he, as it was well known, descend to
office. Of course he suffered no pain from envy
when bad men rose, thougli he felt anxiety for the
public. He was perfectly content and at ease in
private life. Of what was he ambitious? Not of
wealth ; no man held it cheaper. Was it of popu-
larity ? That weed of the dunghill he know, when
rankest, was nearest to withering. There is no
doubt that he desired glory, which to most men is
too inaccessible to be an object of desire ; but feel-
ing his own force, and that he was tall enough to
reach to the top of Pindus or of Helicon, he longe 1
to deck his brow with the wreath of immortality.
A vulgar ambition could as little comprehend as sa-
tisfy his views ; he thirsted only for that fame,
which virtue would not blush to confer, nor time to
convey to the end of his course.

The only ordinary distinction, to which we confess
he did aspire, was military ; and for that, in the

474-

CYCLOPiEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

event of a foreign war, he would have been solici-
tous. He undoubtedly discovered the predominance
of a soldier's feelings ; and all that is honor in the
character of a soldier was at homo in his heart. His
early education was in the camp; there the first fer-
vors of liis genius were poured forth, and his earliest
and most cordial friendships were formed; there he
became enamored of glory, and was admitted to
her embrace.

Those who knew him best, and especially in the
army, will believe, that if occasions had called him
forth, he was qualified beyond any man of the age,
to display the talents of a great general.

It may be very long before our country will
want such military talents ; it will probably be
much longer before it will again possess them.

Alas! the great man who was at all times so
'much the ornament of our country, and so ex-
clusively fitted it in its extremity to be its cham-
pion, is withdrawn to a purer and more tranquil
region. We are left to endless labors and unavail-
ing regrets.

Such honors Ilion to her hero paid,

And peaceful slejjt the mighty Hector's shade.

The most substantial glory of a country is in its
virtuous great men; its prosperity will depend on
its docility to learn from their example. That na-
tion is fated to ignominy and servitude, for which
such men have lived in vain. Power may be seized
by a nation that is yet barbarous : and wealth may
be enjoyed by one that it finds or renders sordid;
the one is the gift and the sport of accident, and the
other is the sport of power. Both are mutable, and
have passed away without leaving behind them any
other memorial than ruins that offend taste, and
traditions that baffle conjecture. But the glory of
Greece is imperishable, or will last as long as learn-
ing itself, which is its monument ; it strikes an ever-
lasting root, and bears perennial blossoms on its
grave. The name of Hamilton would have honored
Greece in the age of Aristides. May heaven, the
guardian of our liberty, grant that our country
may be fruitful of Ilamiltons, and faithful to their
glory !

NOAH WEBSTER.

Noah Webster was born in West Hartford, Ct.,
October 1(3, 1758. He was of a good New Eng-
land family, his father being a farmer and justice
of the peace, and descendant of John Webster,
an old governor of Connecticut, while his mother
was similarly connected with William Bradford
the second governor of Plymouth colony. Web-
ster was prepared by the clergyman of the town,
the Rev. Nathan Perkins, for Yale, which he
entered in 177Ir, and in his junior year found him-
self in the midst of the interruptions of the
Revolution. His father was serving in the militia
raised to meet Burgoyne, and his son joined him.
He was graduated, however, at the end of his
four years, in the same class with Joel Barlow
and Oliver Wolcott; when his father, on his
return from Commencement, presented him with
an eight-dollar hill of the Continental currency,
which was worth about four dollars in specie,
with the information that he must for the future
take care of himself. It was the fortune of many
a noble-minded youth of the days of the Revolu-
tion. School-keeping was, as usual, the first re-
source. Law was the second. Pursuing his
studies by himself in the intervals of his school,
he was admitted to the bar in 1781. There was
little opportunity for the practice of the profession

j at the time, and the next year found Webster
I teaching a classical school at Goshen, in Orange
I County, New York. Here lie first entered upon
I the preparation of the school-books by which
| he subsequently became so well known to the
' country. He was encouraged in his plan on a
' visit to Philadelphia, by Mr. Madison and Pro-
1 fessor Samuel Stanhope Smith. He revised his
work the next winter, and returning to Hartford
in 1783, published there his First Part of a
Grammatical Institute of the English Language.
The second and third parts followed; the whole
comprising the famous spelling-book, an English
grammar, and a reader.* The spelling-book, re-
vised at different times by its author, reached a
sale during his lifetime of millions, and supported
his family for twenty years, while he was en-
gaged in preparing his American Dictionary, by
its copyright income of less than one cent per
copy. It was the first work of its kind in the
country, and long remained the only one in
general use. With tape-tied back, and in thin
wooden covers, it circulated among the trade in
orders by the box.

sYiyab&>

* These were the early titles : — A Grammatical Institute of
the English Language, comprising an Easy, Concise, and Syste-
matic Method of Education, designed for the Use of English
Schools in America. In three parts. Part I. Containing a new
and accurate standard of Pronunciation, By Noah Webster,
A.M. Usus est norma loquendi. Cicero, (sic.) Hartford:
Printed by Hudson and Goodwin for the Author. [This copy,
in the Library at Harvard, is without a date, but as the book
was given Dec. G, 17S3, it is doubtless the first edition.]

A Grammatical Institute of the English Language. Com-
prising an Easy, Concise, and Systematic Method of ^Education,
designed for the use of English Schools in America. In three
parts. Part II. Containing a plain and comprehensive gram-
mar, founded on the true principles and idioms of the language.
By Noah Webster, jun., Esq. The third Edition, revised and
amended. Phila. Young and M'Cnltoch. 17S7.

An American Selection of Lessons in Beading and Speaking,
calculated to improve the minds and refine the taste of youth,
and also to instruct them in the Geography, History, and
Politics of the United States, to which is (.«" ) prefixed, Eules
in Elocution, and Directions for expressing the principal pas-
sions of the mind, being the third part of a Grammatical In-
stitute of the English Language. By Nonh Webster, jun., Esq.
The third edition, greatly enlarged. Begin ivith the infant in
kvi cradle ; let the first word he- lisps be Watdiington. Mika-
beau. Phila. Young and M'Culloch. 1787,

NOAH WEBSTER.

475

Noah "Webster had tact in discerning the wants
of the country in his day, and providing for
them in 'this spelling-book. The two small
volumes of the three parts of his Institutes were
quite a complete manual of juvenile education for
the times. He simplified knowledge, and made it
easy of ac position, arranging the words of his
spelling-book in ready forms to catch the eye and
lingsv in the memory, while he added brief lessons
in definitions, and geographical and other terms,
intermingling those homely and hearty lessons
of fables and proverbs, which were not at all
blunted in their way to the conscience by wood-
cuts, such as the infantile state of the art in the
country then afforded, of the most execrable
character. There have been few moral lessons
productive of the same effect in the country,
as the famous old fable of the Boy that Stole
Apples, and who sits in the old wood-cut alarm-
ingly exposed, astride of the branch of a tree
almost naked of foliage, while the farmer in
small-clothes, one arm akimbo, the other in a
most striking attitude, takes aim at the " s-auce-
box." Many an honest fellow through the world
has had his sense of duty painfully strengthened
by the moral of that fable. Then there is that
forlorn Country Maid and her Milk Pail, teach-
ing the double lesson of the vanity of human ex-
pectations, and the folly of unnecessary grief, —
that chickens are not to be counted before they
are hatched, or milk to be wept over after it is
spilt. That story, too, of the Boy that went to
the rood to look for birds' nests when he should
luive gone to school, and the Descriptions of a
Good Biy and of a Bui Boy, not forgetting the
wonderful table of Proverbs, Councils, ami Max-
ims, all in words of one syllable, ta cing the wis-
dom of nations, and the strong old Saxon powers
of the English language ; all sound lessons, calcu-
lated to mike honest men, and ingenious Benja-
min Franklins.* The third part of the Institutes,
the American selection, was well made up with
lesson-; in reading, lessons in speaking, dialogues,
and poetry. There was the affecting story of La
Roche, rules of behavior from Chesterfield and
of making money from Franklin, dialogue from
Otway and Shakespeare, the story of Lord Peter,
Martin, and Jack, from the Tale of a Tub, and
American history and patriotism in abundance,
from the narratives of Greene and Ramsay, the
orations of Warren and Hancock, and the poetry
of D wight, Freneau, and Barlow. A later edition
of this last division in the American Selection^
added Franklin's memorable story of The Whistle,
Jefferson's Logan, General Bnrgoyne's relation of

* One of the curiosities of the early editions of the spelling-
book is the frequent introduction, at the foot of the page, of
warnings against mispronunciations, which may be suppose'!
to have been usual at tho time. Thus "ask" is declared to be
'■not ax';'1 "card." "not Cairo;*' " herb," "not yerb ;" "wain-
scot," " not winclieott;" "resin," " not rozum ;" " cany," " not
kerry ;" " chimney," " not ehimbly ;" " kernel," " not karnal ;"
"confiscate," "not confiscate." If Webster saved the coun-
try from these and similar barbarities ill a rude state of speech
and writing, and with a likelihood of errors of tho kind being
perpetuated among a thin and scattered popnlntio and ho
doubtless did a great deal in the matter — he deserves well of
the nation.

t An American Selection of Lessons in Reading and Speak-
ing; calculated to improve the minds and refine the taste of
youth, to which are prefixed. Rules in Elocution, and Direc-
tions for expressing the principal passions of the mind. By
Noah Webster. Hogau's fifth improved edition. Phila. 1810,

the Funeral of General Frazer, and Humphreys's
Adventures of General Putnam. These were the
"household words" in school-houses, over hill and
valley, and in the homes of our forefathers in the
youth of the nation.

Webster next appeared as a writer on public
affairs, publishing letters with the signature of
Honorius in the Connecticut Courant, in defence
of the measures of Congress in the pay of the
army. In the winter of 1784 he published a
pamphlet, Sketches of American Policy , in which
he urged the advantages of a general government.
This, his biographer, Mr. Goodrich, remarks was
" the first distinct proposal, made through the
medium of the press, for a new constitution
of the United States." The next year he made
a journey to the South to petition the state
legislatures for a copyright law; and long after-
wards, when the act of Congress had made pro-
vision for the matter, used his influence at Wash-
ington in 1830, in securing the extension of the
term. In 1785 Webster was at Baltimore pre-
paring a course of lectures on the English lan-
guage, which he delivered in the chief cities the
following year, and afterwards published in his
octavo, entitled Dissertations on the English
Language. In 1787 he was principal of an
Episcopal academy at Philadelphia, and when the
Constitution of the United States was formed by
the Convention in that year, gave it his assistance
in a pamphlet, an Examination of the Leading
Principles of the Federal Constitution. In 1787
Webster published the American Magazine* for a
year at New York, a creditable though unsuc-
cessful pioneer attempt in this department of
literature. It was neat in arrangement, and
though " miscellaneous" in its contents, started
some interesting antiquarian and scientific mat-
ters in the editor's letters to President Stiles on
Western Fortifications and other topics. Its
Americanism was well sustained by poetical ex-
tracts from Dwight, Barlow, and Trumbull.

In 178'.), he published Dissertations on the Eng-
lish Language ; with notes, historical and critical,
with an E.-say on a reformed mode of spelling.!
This work was dedicated to Franklin. The essay
on Orthography shows the bold starting-point of
Webster in his efforts to create " an American
tongue." These views, though he was compelled
ultimately to recede from them almost entirely,
entered largely into several of his most important,
works. They were thus announced in 1780 : —

The principal alterations, necessary to render our
orthography sufficiently regular and easy, are
these:

1. The omission of all superfluous or silent letters,
as a in bread. Thus bread, head, give, breast, built,
meant, realm, friend, would be spelt, bred, lied, giv,
brest, bilt, ment, rclm, frend. Would this alteration
produce any inconvenience, any embarrassment or
expense ? By no means. On the other hand it

* The American Magazine, containing a miscellaneous collec-
tion of original and other valuable Essays, in prose and verse;
and calculated both for instruction and amusement. "Science
the guide and Truth the eternal goal." Barlow. New York ;
Samuel Loudon. Dec. 17S7— Nov. 1788. 1 vol. 8vo. pp. 8S2.

+ Dissertations on the English Language: with notes, histo-
rical and critical, to which is added, by way of Appendix, an
Essay on a reformed mode of spelling, wi;h Dr. Franklin's ar-
guments on that subject. Planted at Boston, for the author.
By Isaiah Thomas & Co. 8vo. 17S9.

476

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

would lessen the trouble of writing, and much more,
of learning the language ; it would reduce the true
pronunciation to a certainty ; and while it would
assist foreigners and our own children in acquiring
the language, it would render the pronunciation uni-
form, in different parts of the country, and almost
prevent the possibility of changes.

2. A substitution of a character that has a certain
definite sound, for one that is more vague and inde-
terminate. Thus by putting ee instead of ca or ie,
the words mean, near, speak, grieve, zeal, would be-
come meen, neer, spcek, greev, zeel. This alteration
could not occasion a moment's trouble ; at the same
time it would prevent a doubt respecting the pro-
nunciation; whereas the ra and it having different
sounds, may give a learner much difficulty. Thus
greef should be substituted for grief ; kee for key ;
beleeit for believe ; laf for laugh ; dawter for daughter;
plena for plough ; tuffov tough ; proov for prove ; blud
for blooel; and draft for draught. In this manner eh
in Greek derivatives, should be changed into k ; for
the English ch has a soft sound, as hi cherish; but k
always a hard sound. Therefore character, chorus,
cholic, architecture, should be written karacter, korus,
kolic, arkiiecture ; and were they thus written, no
person could mistake their true pronunciation.

Thus ch in French derivatives should be changed
into sh ; 'machine, chaise, chevalier, should be writ-
ten masheen, shaze,shevaleer ; and pique, tour, obliejue,
should be written peek, toor, vbleek.

3. A trifling alteration in a character, or the ad-
dition of a point, would distinguish different sounds,
without the substitution of a new character. Thus
a very small stroke across th would distinguish its
two sounds. A point over a vowel in this manner,
a, or 6, or i, might answer all the purposes of differ-
ent letters. And for the dipthong ow, let the two
letters be united by a small stroke, or both engraven
on the same piece of metal, with the left hand line of I
the w united to the o.

These, with a few other inconsiderable alterations,
would answer every purpose, and render the ortho-
graphy sufficiently correct and regular.

Some of the motives urged for this reform are
curious. The simplicity of the language would
not only be secured and spelling be made easy
for children, and the pronunciation facilitated to
foreigners ; but such a reform would diminish the
number of letters about one sixteenth or eight-
eenth. This would save a page in eighteen; and
a saving of an eighteenth in the expense of books,
is an advantage that should not be overlooked.
The following suggestion is still more remarka-
ble :—

But a capital advantage of this reform in these
states would be, that it would make a difference be-
tween the English orthography and the American.
This will startle those who have not attended to the
subject ; but I am confident that such an event is an
object of vast political consequence. For,

The alteration, however small, would encourage
the publication of books in our own country. It
would render it, in some measure, necessary that all
books should be printed in America. The English
would never copy our orthography for their own
use ; and consequently the same impressions of books
would not answer for both countries. The inhabit-
ants of the present generation would read the Eng-
lish impressions ; but posterity, being taught a dif-
ferent spelling, would prefer the American orthogra-
phy-

If this suggestion could have been carried out,
it would have been necessary to have employed

a large body of translators in the work of turning
Shakespeare, Bacon, and Milton, into Ameri-
canese.

In 1789, he married the daughter of William
Greenleaf of Boston, and took up the pursuit of
the law at Stratford, which lie followed with suc-
cess for several years, till he was induced, on the
breaking out of the French excitement and the
difficulties with Genet, to undertake a daily news-
paper in New York in support of Washington's
administration. He removed to New York at
the close of 1793, and commenced the Minerva,
from the standing matter of which he published
a semi-weekly, the Herald, the first time this enter-
prise and economy had been practised. Out of
these papers grew the present Commercial Adver-
tiser and Spectator. In further defence of the
government, he publii-hed a pamphlet in 179-1 on
the Revolution in France; and the following
year sustained Jay's British Treat}7 in a series of
papers, signed Curtins, two of which were from
the pen of James Kent, afterwards the Chancellor.

It was about this time that Webster published
his Prompter, a collection of common sayings,
maxims, &c, after the manner of Dr. Franklin,
in his little essays and Poor Richard aphorisms.
The title was borrowed from the theatre, and its
object was to remind the world of familiar but
easily neglected truths of a practical character.
Its twenty-nine brief chapters, comments upon
proverbs and fallacies, have point and good sense.

As evidence of his activity of mind, when the
questions connected with the then prevalent yel-
low fever agitated the country, he made researches
on the great subject, and published the result of
his investigations in two volumes, in 1799, enti-
tled a History of Epidemic and Pestilential Pis-
eases* When the question of the rights of neutral
nations arose, with the war of the French Revo-
lution, he published in 1802 a treatise on the
subject, and the same year, Historical Notices of
the Origin and State of Hanking Institutions
and Insurance Offices.

In 1798, Webster took up his residence in New
Haven, and soon retired altogether from the man-
agement of his New York journals. In 1802, he
published an essay on the Rights of Neutral Na-
tions, in reference to the outrages on American
commerce by the European powers during the
French Revolution. In 1800, lie published a
Dictionary of the English Language in octavo,
and the next year entered upon the preparation
of Ins most important work, An American Pic-
tionary of the English Language. For this work
he entered upon a comprehensive study of the
changes of language since the date of the last
great work of Dr. Johnson, applied himself to the
careful stud}' of definitions, and entered largely
upon the investigation of the origin and growth
of languages, in comparison of the vocabularies
of different nations. He prepared a work, still in
manuscript, A Syiiopsis of Words in Twenty
Languages.

From 1812 to 1822 Webster resided at Amherst,
Mass., when he returned to New Haven.

* A Brief History of Epidemic and Pestilential Disposes;
with the principal phenomena of the physical world, which
precede and accompany them, and observations deduced from
the facts stated. 2 vols. 8vo. Hartford: Hudson and Goodwin,
1799.

NOAH WEBSTER.

477

He further, in 1824, made a tour to France anil
England, where he continued his researches at the
libraries of Paris and Cambridge. In 1828, when
he was at the age of seventy, his Dictionary finally
appeared, at New York, in two volumes quarto.
Twenty-five hundred were printed in America
and three thousand in England, where the publi-
cation was superintended by E. H. Barker, the
editor of Stephens's Greek Thesaurus.

Some fears had been entertained of Webster's
well known disposition to tamper with the esta-
blished orthography. An expression of them is
recorded in the Jay correspondence. A letter
which Webster wrote in 1813 to John Jay, who
had probably read the Essay on the American
Tongue, drew from that prudent statesman a hint
on the character of his labors : "It is not impro-
bable that doubts prevail respecting the de-
sign and tendency of the work you have in hand.
The literary productions of Britain and America
being interesting to each other, many are of
opinion, and I concur in it, that the English lan-
guage and its orthography should be the same in
both countries. Apprehensions have been enter-
tained that your dictionary would tend to impair
that sameness ; and those apprehensions may, to
a certain extent, have had an unfavorable influ-
ence."* To which Webster responded: "It is not
improbable that some ill-founded apprehensions
that I might attempt changes of orthography
have had their effect in preventing subscriptions;
but there are several other causes. On the sub-
ject of orthography gentlemen might have been
easy, as any considerable changes must prevent
the sale and use of a work of the sort, and they
might rationally conclude that I would not put
myself to an immense trouble and expense to
write a book which would not find purchasers.
My plan is different from anything before at-
tempted. I have examined and collated the radi-
cal words in twenty languages, including the
seven Asiatic languages, or rather dialects, of the
Assyrian stock. This will enable me to present
many things in the English language which have
hitherto been obscure. Indeed, this research has
opened a field entirely new, and it is probable will
lead to many important discoveries, not only in
the origin and affinity of languages, but in history
sacred and profane."

In 1821, he writes again to Jay of his "synop-
sis of radical words in more than twenty lan-
guages," which has occupied him ten years, and
regrets that "I did not begin my studies early
enough. I am now sixty -three years of age, and
after this age a small portion only of active life
remains. I have thought, that after submitting
my MSS. to able judges, if they should think the
work to have merit enough to command a sale in
England, I may visit that country, and attempt to
sell the copy there first; and, indeed, revise the
work at Oxford." t

The work was well received on its appearance,
and merited the attention by the neAv words added
which had come into use, by the increased num-
ber of definitions marking new uses of the lan-
guage, and by its labors in the wide field of

* Letter, Bedford, May 31, 1818. Life and Writings, ii. 357.
t Letter, Amherst. Mass., November, 1S21. Jay's Life, &c,
II. 421.

etymology. Something, it was felt, was due to
the single-handed perseverance of the Yankee
schoolmaster, now recognised as a successful
worker in the field where Dr. Johnson had gained
his most imposing laurels. Had Webster, with
his perseverance and energy, possessed a like de-
gree of sound judgment, his reputation would
have been unassailed. As it was, he was regarded
with suspicion, and frequently openly opposed:
for his well known views as a reformer of the
language laid him particularly open to attack;
since speech being common property, every one
was bound more or less to question his proceedings.
Though the dictionary bearing Webster's name is
now in very general use, it has secured this result
by the number of its words, and particularly the
extent of its scientific terms and the accuracy of
their definitions, in spite of the peculiar Webster-
isms of orthography. IBs mistake, as the com-
piler of a dictionary, at the outset was, in seeking
to amend the language, while his duty was simply
to record the use of words by the. best authors.
In the attempt to impose new conditions, and with
his American innovations, he placed himself be-
yond the recognition of the highest authorities of
the language in the universities of England and
the colleges of America.

His first dictionary, published in 1800, was vir-
tually ignored by himself, and his principles of
orthography must be gathered from his later pub-
lications. In view of the disturbance created in
the literary world by his innovations since 1828,
it would be natural to suppose that these innova-
tions were very numerous ; but such is not the
fact. The changes were few in number; but,
being applied to words in common use, they
gained a factitious importance by frequent repeti-
tion. His present system — carried out so incon-
sistently as scarcely to deserve the name, how-
ever— may be thus briefly stated : I. Finding that
many words of French origin terminating in re
had been in adaption transposed to er, as cider,
chamber, etc., he decided that all words so
adopted should be so transposed; and, accordingly,
changed spectre, theatre, etc., into specter and
theater, not reflecting that the changes previously
made had been confined to words which did not
require re-transposition in their derivatives ; and
Webster's inconsistency here was, that while he
wrote theater he also wrote theatrical. II. He
expunged the second I from traveller, libeller, etc.,
because he deemed it superfluous ; and he added
a second I to foretel, distil, etc., because the
second I was wanted in the derivatives, fore-
telling, etc. In this latter change he laid down
the principle, that the spelling of the derivative
must govern the spelling of the primitive; and
yet, although in conformity to this rule, he also
changed defence, pretence, and offence, into defense
pretense, and offense, he omitted to change such
words as consequence, inference, sentence, etc.,
while he retained the correct spelling of their de-
rivative*, consequential, sententious, etc. III. He
changed ton to tun, and did not change won to
wun ; he changed mould and moult to mold and
molt, and did not change court to cort ; and he
changed practise, the verb, to practice. This,
substantially, is Webster's orthographical reform.*

* Eadicalisra in Orthography, a series of articles from the

478

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

In 1833, Noah "Webster published his revised
edition of the Bible, with what he considered
improvements of the language.* It was a rash
and unnecessary attempt, and was not successful.
His design is thus expressed by himself in the
preface: "In my own view of this subject, a ver-
sion of the Scriptures for popular use should con-
sist of words expressing the sense which is most
common in popular usage, so that the first idea
suggested to the reader should be the true mean-
ing of such words, according to the original lan-
guages. That many words in the present version
fail to do this is certain. My principal aim is to
remedy this evil.'' This principle is enlarged
upon : " I have been careful to avoid unnecessary
innovations, and to retain the general character
of the style. The principal alterations are com-
prised in three classes : —

" I. The substitution of words and phrases now
in good use for such as are wholly obsolete, or
deemed below the dignity and solemnity of the
subject.

" II. The correction of errors in grammar.

"III. The insertion of euplmmisins [sic], words
and phrases which are not very offensive to deli-
cacy, in the place of such as cannot with propriety
be uttered before a promiscuous audience.

"A few errors in the translation which are ad-
mitted on all hands to be obvious have been cor-
rected. * * *

" To avoid giving offence to any denomination of
Christians, I have not knowingly made any altera-
tion in the passages of the present version on
which the different denominations rely for the
support of their tenets."

An enumeration of the " principal alterations "
is made in an Introduction. From this it appears
that u ho is substituted for which when it refers to
persons ; its is substituted for Ms when it refers
to plants and things without life; why is substi-
tuted for wherefore when inquiry is made ; my
and thy are generally substituted for mine and
thine when used as adjectives ; assemble, collect,
or convene for what Webster is pleased to call
" the tautological words " gather together ; know
or Jcneto for wist, wit, and wot; sixty for three
score, and eighty for four score. It would be a
melancholy task to continue the list. As such
attempts, however, may be made again, though
it is to be trusted with like ill-success, it is a
matter of duty to point out the radical defect of
mind which led to these rash suggestions. They
argue an essentially common, prosaic intellect,
deficient in taste, feeling, imagination ; wanting
in a knowledge of the subtle philosophical links
of association which have long attached the Eng-
lish-speaking world by a power which equally
holds heart and mind to the standard version of
the Holy Scriptures. "When "Webster substitutes
sixty for three score he says, " it appears to him
most eligible to retain but one mode of specifying
numbers," and adds his favorite maxim, that
" uniformity is preferable to diversity " — a most

pen of Edward S. Gould, Literary World, iv. 200, 270, 355, 457.
Senator Bcekmau's Minority Report in N, Y. Legislature, July
7, 1S51, ib, i.\. 67.

* The Holy Bible, containing the Old and New Testaments
in the Common Version. With amendments of the language
by Noah Webster, LL.D. New Haven: published by fiurrie
& Peck. Sold by Hezekiah Howe & Co. and A. H. Maltby,
New Haven, and by N. & J. White, New York, 1S38.

absurd statement in a world beneficently provided
with diversity on all sides. When he substitutes
0 that for would God, he is at the pains to destroy
the force of expression, as in the undying sound
of the lament of David, " O, my son Absalom,
my son, my son Absalom ! would God I had died
for thee, O, Absalom, my son, my son! " which
he profanely alters to " O that I had died for
thee," stating, as a reason for the change, that
"the insertion of the phrases in the version has
given countenance to the practice of introducing
them into discourses and public speeches with a
levity that is incompatil le with a due veneration
for the name of God." For the same reason
there would be no rebgion at all, since infidels
have caricatured all that is sacred. The same
remarks apply to the unhappy substitution of By
no means, for God forbid. In the Sermon on (he
Mount, Noah Webster alters "Therefore take no
thought, saying, what shall we eat," into " There-
fore be not anxious," seeking to justify his med-
dlesome change by the plea that he is giving more
force to the expression. Such a remark as this
might be expected to proceed from a schoolbo}'
or a foreigner who had yet his acquaintance to
make with the language, rather than from a man
who had professedly passed his life in its stud}-.
Other alterations of archaisms, sr.ch as putting
male child for man child ; Jahehood for leasing ;
boiled for sodden ; creeping animal for creeping
thing (a creeping thing, he tells us, being "more
properly a creeping-plant than a reptile");
advanced for stricken in age, and the like, on the
ground of accommodating the language to the
use of the day, show a similar unconsciousness of
the moral relations of the subject, and the advan-
tage of the Bible in providing a store-house of
words and securing the permanency of the lan-
guage. In the few cases in which the words of
the translation have grown obsolete, it is rather
an advantage than a disadvantage that there are
special terms set apart from common uses as es-
pecially biblical. The imagination is afl'ected by
them ; the sense of sanctity and awe is enhanced
by them. The poverty of mind which begets
such attempts leads so soon to indecorum and
what must be fain considered irreverence, that it
would be perhaps unwise here to pursue the sub-
ject further. A great literary and moral interest
is .involved in it.

In 1840, a new edition of the Dictionary ap-
peared, with several thousand new words added
and improvements in the scientific definitions, and
the introduction of phrases from foreign lan-
guages.

Early in 1843, the last year of his life, he gave
his attention to a revision of the appendix of his
Dictionary, adding several hundred words. He
had given thirty-six years to the work.

In 1843 he published, at New York, A Collec-
tion of Papers on Political, Literary, and Moral
Subjects. Its chief contents are a republication
of his tracts on the French Revolution, the Plight
of Search, the British Treaty, the Copyright
Question, and a number of papers on topics of
politics and education.

This was at the close of a long life spent with
unwearied activity in the pursuit of knowledge.
With his faculties unimpaired, in the cheerful
retrospect of a life of happy employment, and

NOAH WORCESTER.

479

with the consolations of religion, he expired, after
a brief illness, at New Haven, May 28, 1843, in
his eighty-fifth year."'

Of Webster's plain habits of living, anil of his
time given to study, there is a quaint account in
a letter from his pen, dated November 21, 1836,
addressed to Dr. Thomas Miner, in answer to an
inquiry as to his mode of life, in which he says: —

I have never been a hard student, unless a few
years may be excepted ; but I have been a steady,
persevering student. I have rarely used lamp or
eandle light, except once, when reading law, and
then I paid dear for my imprudence, for I injured
my eyes. My practice lias usually been to rise
about half an hour before the sun, and make use of
all the light of that luminary. Bat I have never or
rarely been in a hurry. When I first undertook the
business of supporting General Washington's ad-
ministration, I labored too hard in writing or trans-
lating from the French papers for my paper, or hi
composing pamphlets, In two instances I was so
exhausted that I expected to die, for I could not per-
ceive any pulsation ill the radial artery ; but I re-
covered. While engaged in composing my Diction-
ary, I w:is often so much excited by the discoveries
1 made, that my pulse, whose ordinary action is
scarcely 60 beats to the minute, was accelerated to
80 or 85.

My exercise has not been violent nor regular.
While I was in Amherst I cultivated a little land,
and used to work at making hay, and formerly I
worked in my garden, which I cannot now do.
Until within a few years, I used to make my fires in
the morning, but I never or rarely walked before
breakfast. My exercise is now limited to walking
about the city to purchase supplies for my family.
For a part of my life, the last forty years, I have
had a horse of my own, but I never rode merely for
health; and a part of the time, more than half, I
have not been able to keep a horse. My eyes have,
from a child, been subject to a slight inflammation,
but the sight has been good. I began to use spec-
tacles when fifty years of age, or a little more, and
that was the time when I began to study and pre-
pare materials for my Dictionary. I had had the
subject in contemplation some years before, and had
made memorandums on the margin of Johnson's
Dictionary, but I did not 6et myself to the work till
I wore spectacles.

When I finished my copy I was sitting at my
table in Cambridge, England, January, 1825. When
I arrived at the last word, I was seized with a tremor
that made it difficult to proceed. I, however, sum-
moned up strength to finish the work, and then
walking about the room I soon recovered, f

NOAH WORCESTER

Was born at Hollis, K H, November 25, 1758.
He was of an old ecclesiastical family in New
England. His father, of the same name, was an
influential magistrate of New Hampshire. His
brother Leonard was bred a printer, and for a
time edited the Massachusetts Spy at Worcester.
Noah, who in later life was called " The Apos-
tle of Peace," was in youth a fifer at Bunker
Hill, and was also in the battle of Bennington.
At eighteen he was teaching in the village school
of Plymouth, N. H, and pursued that calling for
nine successive winter-. To accomplish himself
in penmanship, in the scarcity of paper during

* National Portrait Gallery, ii.
t New Englander, i. 568.

Ed. 1S54

the war, he wrote over a quantity of white birch
bark. In 1778, according to the primitive usage
of an agricultural and thinly peopled region, and
the old Puritan religious ideas of the family, he
purchased of his father the remainder of his
minority,* and left for Plymouth. In 1782 he
removed to Thornton, where he was a preacher
from 1780 to 1810. Ho had commenced his
career as a writer with a controversial letter to
the Rev. John Murray, on his sermon on the
" Origin of Evil." In 1810 he published his Uni-
tarian e;say, which he entitled Bible News of the
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, in a series of let-
ters, in four parts. This work brought upon him
much opposition, to mitigate which he wrote his
letters to Trinitarians in favor of tolerance and
personal kindness among those who differed in
religious opinions. He wrote at this time for the
journals: for the Theological Magazine, in New
York, a series of papers, The Variety ; in a peri-
odical at Concord, and in the newspapers.

In 1813 he removed to Brighton, near Boston;
his friends, Dr Charming, Dr. Lowell, Dr. Tuck-
erman, and the Rev. S. C. Thacher, having made
provision for him as editor of the Christian Dis-
ciple, which grew afterwards into the present
Christian Examiner. It was a monthly periodi-
cal, "for the promotion of spiritual and moral
improvement." It was conducted by him to the
close of 1818. Be here uttered his ideas on the
Peace Question, which ho had publicly stated in
the war of 1812, in a sermon on the pacific con-
duct of Abraham and Lot, in avoiding hostilities
between their herdsmen, delivered on the day
appointed by Madison for a national fast. In
1814: he published his tract, A Solemn Review of
the Custom of War. The Massachusetts Peace
Society was founded in the following year. In
pursuance of his views he began the publication
of The Friend, of Peace in 1819, and continued
it, in quarterly numbers, for ten years. It was
mostly written by himself. In 1821) he resumed
his theological publications with a small volume,

The Atoning Sacrifice, a display of Love not of
Wrath; and, in 1831, a small book on The
Causes and Evils of Contentions among Christians.
In 1833 he published a volume, Last Thoughts on

* Memoirs by the Rev. Henry Ware, p. 9.

4S0

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Important Subjects; in three parts. 1. Man's
Liability to Sin ; 2. Supplemental Illustrations;
3. Maiis Capacity to Obey. He was now at the
extreme period of life, in the enjoyment of a hap-
py, tranquil old age. Channing, who has cele-
brated his career in his noble eulogy entitled the
Philanthropist, speaks of the serenity of his life,
in the midst of his reformatory opinions and con-
troversial writings, and of the "sufficiency of his
mind to its own happiness."* His personal ap-
pearance was remarkable, of a large frame and
benign expression. He died at Brighton, Massa-
chusetts, October 81, 1837, aged 79.

His chief reputation rests on his Peace Efforts,
and his position in the transition stage of Puri-
tanism to Unitarianism.

JOHN ARMSTRONG,

TnE author of the " Newburgh Letters" and
the historian of the second war with England,
was a native of Pennsylvania, born at Carlisle,
Nov. 25, 1758. His father was an officer of
distinction in the war with France in 1755. On
the breaking out of the Revolution young Arm-
strong, then a student at the college of New
Jersey, joined the camp as a volunteer at the age
of eighteen. He was appointed aide-de-camp to
General Mercer, who was borne in his arms,
fatally wounded, from the field at the battle of
Princeton. He was next invited to become aide
to General Gates, and served with him through
the campaign which closed at Saratoga. In
1780, he was appointed Adjutant General of
the Southern army, but retired from this service
in consequence of illness before the battle of
Camden, resuming his position with General
Gates, as aide, with the rank of Major.

When the war was ended he had an opportu-
nity to give proof of his ability with the pen in
his authorship' of the celebrated Nacburyli Let-
ters, dated from the camp at that place. The
design of these addresses was to arouse the army
to a vigorous assertion of their claims, which in
the imperfect organization of the general govern-
ment it was necessary should be loudly urged to
obtain a hearing. There were two of these
" addresses," one dated in the camp at Newburgh,
the 10th March, 1783, inviting a meeting of
officers for the consideration of measures to
redress the army grievances, in the neglect of
pay by Congress, which employed this bold
language : —

" If this then be your treatment, while the swords
you wear are necessary for the defence of America,
what have you to expect from peace, when your
voice shall sink, and your strength dissipate by
division ; when those very swords, the instruments
and companions of your glory, shall be taken from
your sides, and no remaining mark of military dis-
tinction left but your wants, infirmities, and scars?
Can you then consent, to be the only sufferers by
this revolution, and retiring from the field, grow old
in poverty, wretchedness, and contempt? Can you
consent to wade through the vile mire of dependency,
and owe the miserable remnant of that life to
charity, which has been hitherto spent in honor?
If you can, go, and carry with you the jest of
Tories and the scorn of Whigs ; the ridicule, and

* Channing's Works, iv. 8ST.

what is worse, the pity of the world Go starve
and be forgotten. But if your spirits should revolt
at this ; if you have sense enough to discover and
spirit sufficient to oppose tyranny, under whatever
garb it may assume, whether it be the plain coat of
republicanism or the splendid robe of royalty; if
you have yet learned to discriminate between a
people and a cause, between men and principles;
awake, attend to your situation, and redress 3'our-
selvesl If the present moment be lost, every future
effort is in vain ; and your threats will then be as
empty as your entreaties now.

I would advise you, therefore, to come to some
final opinion upon what you can bear, and what
you will suffer. If your determination be in any
proportion to your wrongs, carry your appeal from
the justice to the fears of government. Change
the milk-and-water style of your last memorial.
Assume a bolder tone, decent, but lively, spirited,
and determined; and suspect the man wdio would
advise to more moderation and longer forbearance.
Let two or three men, who can feel as well as write,
be appointed to draw up your last remonstrance,
for I would no longer give it the suing, soft, unsuc-
cessful epithet of memorial. Let it represent in
language that will neither dishonor you by its
rudeness, nor betray you by its fears, what has
been promised by Congress, and what has been
performed ; how long and how patiently you have
suffered ; how little you have asked, and how much
of that little has been denied. Tell them, that
though you were the first, and would wish to be
last, to encounter danger, though despair itself can
never drive you into dishonor, it may drive you
from the field ; that the wound, often irritated and
never healed, may at length become incurable ; and
that the slightest mark of indignity from Congress
now must operate like the grave, and part you for
ever; that, in any political event, the arm}' has its
alternative. If peace, that nothing shall separate
you from your arms but deatli ; if war, that court-
ing the auspices, and inviting the direction of your
illustrious leader, you will retire to some unsettled
country, smile in your turn, " and mock when their
fear cometh on." But let it represent, also, that
should they comply with the request of your late
memorial, it would make you more happy and them
more respectable ; that, while war should continue,
you would follow their standard into the field; and
when it came to an end, you would withdraw into
the shade of private life, and give the world another
subject of wonder and applause ; an army victorious
over its enemies, victorious over itself.

Washington, who was in camp, met this inflam-
matory proceeding by his general orders forbid-
ding the meeting, and calling an assembly of
officers to hear the report of the committee sent
to Congress, when a second address appeared
turning to account this apparent sanction of the
gathering. Washington overruled the threatened
embarrassment by himself attending the meeting,
securing the quiet of Gates by placing him in the
chair, and rallying his faithful brother officers to
his support.*

AVashington read an address to the officers at
the meeting, in which the whole matter was
treated with dignitv and feeling, and in the

* Hildreth's TJ. S.. First Scries, iii. 431. Cllrtls's ITistory of
the Constitution, i. 1GS. where the styie of the Newburgh
Addresses is highly spoken of: — "They nre written with great
point and vigor of expression, and great purity of English.
For the purpose for which they were designed, — a direct
appeal to feeling, — they show the hand of a master."

GEORGE R. 1IINOT.

4S1

course of which, while the arguments and pro-
posals of " the anonymous addresser" were an-
swered with respect, it was intimated that he
was " an insidious foe — some emissary, perhaps,
from New York, sowing the seeds of discord and
separation hetween the civil and military powers
of the continent."

At the time of making this address, Washing-
ton was not acquainted with the anonymous
author. He afterwards, in writing to General
Armstrong, Feb. 23, 1797, expressed his confi-
dence in the good motives which had dictated
the letters, as "just, honorable, and friendly to
the country, though the means suggested were
certainly liable to much misunderstanding and
abuse."*

After the war Armstrong held the post of
Secretary of Pennsylvania, under Dickenson and
Franklin. In 1787, he was elected member of
Congress. In 1780, upon his marriage with a
sister of Chancellor Livingston, he took up his
residence in Dutchess County in the State of
New York, where he occupied himself with farm-
ing. In 1800, he was elected senator of the
United States, and in 1804, was appointed by
Jefferson minister to France, an arduous position,
which he filled till 1810, during which time he
discharged the duties of a separate mission to
Spain.

When the war of 1812 was declared, he was
appointed brigadier-general in the United States
army, and commanded the district including the
city and harbor of New York. In 1813, he was
called by Madison to the Secretaryship of War.
The difficulties which he encountered in the
management of attempts against Canada, and the
destruction of Washington, led to his resignation
in 1814. He suffered at the time the odium
resulting from these disasters, which threw into
the shade his undoubtedly honorable and faithful
services.

In his retirement at Red Hook, where he
passed the subsequent years of his life, he wrote
treatises on Gardening and Agriculture, a review
of Wilkinson's Memoirs, several biographical
notices, and N~otir.cs of the War of 1812, the
first volume of which was published in 1836, and
the second in 1840. In this work he reviews the
conduct of the war with a forcible and discrimi-
nating pen, sharpened by the official experiences
of his own career a-i secretary. It possesses the
interest of an original critical disquisition on a
most important period of our history, and its
points will continue to furnish the text for pro-
longed comment.

Gen. Armstrong died at his country residence
on the Hudson, April 1, 1843, in his eighty-fifth
year.f

GEOEGE E. MINOT.
George Richards, the son of Stephen Minot, a
merchant of Boston, was born in that city Decem-
ber 22, 1758. His father's means having been
impaired by unsuccessful business speculation, it
was with difficulty that lie secured a liberal edu-
cation. He was prepared for college by the oele-

* SparkB's Washington, viil. 566.

t Encyclopaedia Americana, vol. xiv. Lossing's Field Book,
u. 106.

vor.. i.— 31

brated Master Lovell ; completed his course with
the highest honors at Harvard, in 1778 : and on
taking the degree of Master of Arts, delivered the
valedictory oration in Latin, which was much ad-
mired for its eloquence and purity of language.

He studied law with Fisher Ames in the office of
William Tudor. Soon after commencing practice
he was made, in 1781, Clerk of the House of Re-
presentatives, under the recently formed constitu-
tion ; in 1782 he was appointed judge of probate for
the county of Suffolk ; and in 1800, of the Munici-
pal Court in Boston. In 1783, he married Mary
Speakman, of Marlboro'. In 1788, he published
the History of the Rebellion in Massachusetts in
1786 ; a work which attracted great attention
from its interest, its dispassionate tone, and the
elegance and purity of its style; and in 17U8, the
first volume of a, History of the Province of
Massachusetts Bay, from 1748 to 1765, in conti-
nuation of that of Hutchinson. The second vo-
lume was printed from his manuscripts shortly
after his death, which occurred after a short ill-
ness on the second of January, 1802. He was
also the author of an oration on the Boston Mas-
sacre ; of a highly finished and impassioned dis-
course on the death of Washington ; and an
address before the Massachusetts Charitable So-
ciety. He was one of the founders of the Massa-
chusetts Historical Society, and edited three of
the early volumesof their collections. His history
is a well written, laborious, and impartial work.
Its author was noted, in addition to his writings,
for his fine taste, elegant personal appearance, the
amiability and uprightness of his character, and
the hospitality of his mansion.*

TREATMENT OF THE ACADIAN8, 1755.

The French force in Nova-Scotia being thus sub-
dued, it only remained to determine the measures
which ought tobetakea with respect to the inhabit-
ants, who were about seven thousand in number,
and whose character and situation were so peculiar,
as to distinguish them from almost every other com-
munity, that has suffered under the scourge of war.

The allegations against them as a people, and
which were undoubtedly just against many of thera
as individuals, were these : That being permit-
ted to hold their lands, after the treaty of Utrecht,
by which the Province was ceded to Great-Britain,
upou condition of their taking the oath of allegiance,
they refused to comply, excepting with this qualifi-
cation, that they should not be called upon to bear
arms in the defence of the Province ; which qualifi-
cation, though acceded to by Gen. Phillips, the
British commander, was disapproved of by the
king : That from this circumstance they affected the
character of neutrals, yet furnished the French and
Indians with intelligence, quarters, provisions and
assistance in annoying the government of the Pro-
vince, and three hundred of them were actually
found in arms at the taking of fort Beau-sejour:
That notwithstanding an offer was made, to such of
them as had not been openly in arms, to be allowed
to continue in possession of their land, if they would
take tlie oath of allegiance without any qualification,
they unanimously refused it.<

The character of this people was mild, frugal, in-

* Loring's Hundred Boston Orators, p. 14C, .

4S3

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

dustrious and pious; and a scrupulous sense of the
indissoluble nature of their ancient obligation to
their king, was a great cause of their misfortunes.
To this we may add an unalterable attachment to
their religion, a distrust of the right of the English
to the territory which they inhabited, and the in-
demnity promised them at the surrender of fort
Beau-scjour. Notwithstanding which, there could
be no apology for such of them as, after they had
obtained the advantages of neutrality, violated the
conditions on which they were granted, and without
which, from the nature of the case, there was no
just foundation to expect they would be continued.

Such being the circumstances of the French Neu-
trals, as they were called, the Lieutenant Governor
•of Nova-Scotia and his Council, aided by the admi-
rals Boscawen and Mostyn, assembled to consider of
the necessary measures to be adopted towards them.
If the whole were to suffer for the conduct of a part,
the natural punishment would have been to have
forced them from their country, and left them to go
wherever they pleased ; but from the situation of
the Province of Canada, it was obvious to see that
this would have been to recruit it witli soldiers, who
would immediately have returned in arms upon the
British frontiers. It was therefore determined to
remove and disperse this whole people amo: g the
British Colonies, where they could not unite in any
offensive measures, and where they might be natu-
ralized to the government'and country.

The execution of this unusual and general sentence
was allotted chiefly to the JSew England forces, the
commander of which, from the humanity and firm-
ness of his character, was the best qualified to carry
it into effect It was without doubt, as he himself
declared, disagreeable to his natural make and tern- |
per ; and his principles of implicit obedience as a
soldier were put to a severe test by this ungrateful
kind of duty, which required an ungenerous cun-
ning, and subtle kind of severity, calculated to ren-
der the Acadians subservient to the English interests
to the latest hour. They were kept entirely igno-
rant of their destiny until the moment of their
captivity, and were overawed or allured to labour
at the gathering in of their harvest, which was se-
cretly allotted to the use of their conquerors. The
orders from Lieutenant Governor Lawrence to Capt.
Murray, who was first on the station, witli a plagia-
rism of the language without the spirit of scripture,
directed that if tliese people behaved amiss, they
should be punished at his discretion ; and if any at-
tempts were made to destroy or molest the troops,
he should take an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a
tooth, and in short, life for life, from the nearest
neighbour where the mischief should be per-
formed.

The convenient moment having arrived, the inha-
bitants were called into the different ports to hear
the king's orders, as they were termed. At Grand
Pre, where Col. Winslow had the immediate com-
mand, four hundred and eighteen of their best men
assembled. These being shut into the church, (for
that too had become an arsenal) he placed himself
with his officers in the centre, and addressed them
thus : —

Gentlemex,

I have received from his Excellency Governor
Lawrence, the King's commission, which I have in
my hand; and by his orders you are convened toge-
ther, to manifest to you his Majesty's final resolution
to the French inhabitants of this his Province of
Nova-Scotia; who for almost half a century have had
more indulgence granted them, than any of his sub-
jects in any part of his dominions. What use you
have made of it, you yourselves best know.

The part of duty I am now upon, though necessa-
ry, is very disagreeable to my natural make and
temper, as I know it must be grievous to you who
are of the same species.

But it is not my business to animadvert, but to obey
such orders as I receive, and therefore, without hesi-
tation, shall deliver you his Majesty's orders and in-
structions, namely,

"That your lands and tenements, cattle of all
kinds, and live stock of ail sorts, are forfeited to the
crown, with all other your effects, saving your money
and household goods, and you yourselves to be re-
moved from this his Province."

Thus it is peremptorily his Majesty's orders, that
the whole French inhabitants of tliese districts be
removed, and I am, through his Majesty's goodness,
directed to allow you liberty to carry off your mo-
ney and household goods, as many as you can with-
out discommoding the vessels you go in. I shall do
every thing in my power, that all those goods be se-
cured to you, and that you are not molested in car-
rying them off: also that whole families shall go in
the same vessel ; and make this remove, which I am
sensible must give you a great deal of trouble, as
easy as his Majesty's service will admit, and hope,
that in whatever part of the world you may fall,
you may be faithful subjects, a peaceable and happy
people.

I must also inform you, that it is his Majesty's
pleasure that you. remain in security, under the in-
spection and direction of the troops that I have the
honour to command.

And he then declared them the King's prisoners.

The whole number of persons collected at Grand
Pre, finally amounted to 483 men and 337 women,
heads of families, and their sous and daughters to
527 of the former, and 576 of the latter, making in
the whole 1923 sonis. Their stock was upwards of
5,000 horned cattle, 493 horses, and 12,887 sheep
and swine.

As some of these wretched inhabitants escaped to
the woods, all possible measures were adopted to
force them back to captivity. The country was laid
waste to prevent their subsistence. In the district
of Minas alone, there were destroyed 255 houses,
27(i barns, 155 out-houses, 11 mills and 1 church ;
and the friends of those who refused to come in,
were threatened as the victims of their obstinacy.
In short, so operative were the terrors that surround-
ed them, that of twenty-four young men who de-
serted from a transport, twenty-two were glad to re-
turn of themselves, the others being shot by senti-
nels; and one of their friends who was supposed to
have been accessary to their escape, having been
carried on shore, to behold the destruction of his
house and effects, which were burned in his pre-
sence, as a punishment for his temerity, and perfidi-
ous aid to his comrades. Being embarked by force
of the musquetry, they were dispersed, according to
the original plan, among the several British Colo-
nies. One thousand arrived in Massachusetts Bay
and became a public expense, owing in a great de-
gree to an unchangeable antipathy to their situation,
which prompted them to reject the usual beneficiary
but humiliating establishment of paupers for their
children.

The campaign ended with no small disgust on the
part of the New England commander and his troops,
on account of distinctions in service made between
the regulars and them, to their prejudice ; and en-
listments being made out of his corps to fill up the
standing regiments, which prevented his fulfilling
his promise to bring his men back to their towns at
the expiration of a year, a promise much relied upon
and necessary to be performed for future exertions.

SARAH WENTWORTH MORTOX— WILLIAM DUAXE.

4S3

BAEAH WENTWOllTII MORTON.
Saeah Wentworth Apthoupe married, in 177S,
Perez Morton.* She was a constant contributor

of short poems to the Massachusetts Magazine,
and obtained a vaunted reputation in those days
under the signature of Philenia, part of which
was no doubt dne to the vigorous laudatory exer-
tions of her friend and poetical correspondent,
Robert Treat Paine, Jr., by whom she was styled
the American Sappho. She was also the author
of Ouabi, or the Virtues of Nature, an Indian
Tale in four cantos, published in 17'JO, and of an
octavo volume which appeared in 1823, entitled
My Mind and its Thoughts, made up of pro-
verb-like reflections in prose, arranged with great
formality, and a number of poems. Her chief
production, Ouabi, is a pastoral, the characters of
which are Ouabi, the chief of an Indian tribe,
Azalia an Indian maiden, and Celario a young
Englishman. Celario, who has joined the red
men, is perplexed by a divided duty between his
affections for Azalia and his respect for the noble
Ouabi, to whom she is betrothed. Fidelity pre-
vails over passion, when Ouabi, having been taken
prisoner by a hostile band, is rescued while sing-
ing his death-song by Celario, resigns his mistress
to his deliverer, and is soon after slain in battle.
The pamphlet of fifty-two pages closes with a
few " Lines addressed to the inimitable author of
the Poems under the signature of Delia Orusca"
productions of which Mrs. Morton was an ad-
mirer and imitator.

BONG FOR THE PUUHC CELEBRATION OF THE NATIONAL PEACE.

Not for the blood-polluted car

Wake the triumphant so:ig of fame,

But for the Chief who spares the war,
Toueh'd by a suffering people's claim.

Hail Columbia! Columbia blest, and free,

The Star of Empire leads to thee.f

Let the rich laurel's baneful green
Bright on the warrior's front appear,

But olive in his path be seen,

Whose gemus gives the prosperous year.

Hail Columbia ! Columbia blest and free,

The Star of Empire breaks on thee.

Diffused around the sacred skies,
The electric ray of hope extends,

On every wing of commerce flies,

And to the earth's green lap descends.

Hail Columbia! Columbia blest and free,

The Star of Empire beams on thee.

Empire, that travels wide and far,
Sheds her last glories on the west —

Born 'mid the morning realms of war,
She loves the peaceful evening best.

* Perez Morton was born at Plymouth. November 13. 1751.
He was a graduate <>f Harvard in "1771, was a member of the
Committee of Safety in 1775, and an active- public man during
the war. On the eighth of April, 17711. he delivered a funeral
oration over the remains of General Warren, which Were identi-
fied as the British were engaged in burying the dead after the
battle, by the barber who had been accustomed to dress his
hair, and on their exhumation, on the evacuation of the British
troops ten months after, by a false tooth. The oration was an
animated, although somewhat too ornate production. At its
clo-e. he commenced the practice of the law. He was Speaker
of the State House" of Representatives from 1806 to 1811, and
Attorney-General from 1810 to 1882. He died at Dorchester,
October 14, 1S37.

t It will probably be perceived, that the chorus of the above
song is in allusion to Bishop Berkeley's prophecy :— •■ West-
ward the coarse of empire," &c. — Author's Note.

Hail Columbia! Columbia blest and free,
The Star of Empire rests on thee !

Then let the pledge of Freedom pass,
While every patriot bosom glows,

And o'er the elevated glass

The amber of the vintage flows.

Hail Columbia ! Columbia blest and free,

The Star of Empire falls with thee.

WILLIAM DUANE.

William Duane was born in 1760, near Lako
Chaiuplain, Xew York, where his parents, natives
of Ireland, had shortly before settled. When
he was eleven years old his mother returned
to her native country, taking William, her only
child, with her. The father had died several years
before. Possessed of property, she brought up
her son as a person of leisure. At the age of
nineteen, by a marriage with a Presbyterian he
offended his parent, a Roman Catholic, and was at
once dismissed from her home, nor was any re-
conciliation ever after effected. Forced to pro-
vide for the maintenance of his family, he learnt
the art of printing, and was engaged in that trade
until the year 1784, when he went to India to
seek his fortune. He was successful, and in a
few years established a newspaper entitled The
World. In a dispute which arose between the
government and some troops in their employ, the
paper sided with the latter. Soon after this tho
editor was invited by Sir John Shaw, the gover-
nor,' to breakfast. On his way to accept the in-
vitation, he was seized by sepoys, placed on board
a vessel, and carried to England. His valuable
property was confiscated. He endeavored to ob-
tain redress from Parliament and the East India
Company, but without success. Again forced to
provide for ali velihood, he became a parliamentary
reporter, and afterwards editor of the General
Advertiser, a newspaper which subsequently be-
came the London Times. He sided in politics
with the party of Home Tooke and others. In
1795 he came with his family to Philadelphia,
where he had passed a i'^w years when a boy.
Here he prepared a portion of a work on the
French Revolution, and became connected with
the Aurora newspaper, recently established by
Benjamin Franklin Bache, and after Bache's
death of yellow fever in 1798, became editor.
Under his vigorous management the journal was
known throughout the country as the loading
organ of the democratic party. Jefferson at-
tributed his election to the presidency to its ex-
ertions. In 1701) the editor was tried with others
for seditious riot. They were charged with
placing at the doors of a Roman Catholic church
printed notices requesting the congregation to
meet in the church-yard and sign a petition
against the Alien Law. The notices were torn
down, replaced and defended, and a disturbance
thus created, during which Reynolds, one of the
parties accused, drew a pistol against one of the
congregation, which was forced from his hand.
The parties were acquitted.

On the removal of the seat of government to
Washington, the Aurora became a les-s influential
journal, and was gradually superseded by rival
publications at the new city. Duane continued
in the editorship until 1822, when he sold out
and went to South America, as the representative;

484

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

of the creditors of the republics of that continent.
He had sided with the struggles for independence
of these communities, and received a vote of
thanks from the Congress of Columbia for his ex-
ertions, and it was on this account supposed that
he would he able to obtain a settlement of the
claims in question. He was unable to collect any
funds, but made good use of the experiences of
his journey, by publishing a pleasant volume of
travels, A Visit to Columbia in 1822-23 : Phila.
1826. After his return he was appointed Protho-
notary of the Supreme Court of Pennsylvania for
the eastern district, and retained the office until
his death in 1835.

In addition to his newspaper writings and his
hook of travel <, he was the author of A Military
Dictionary, 1810, -And A Hand-book for Riflemen,
1813. These works on tactics were for some
time recognised as the chief authorities on the
subject, one in which their author was practically
as well as theoretically conversant, having com-
manded for some time the Philadelphia Legion, a
volunteer corps distinguished for superior disci-
pline, and during the war in 1812—14 filled the
office of Adjutant-General of the army for the
district in winch he was resident.*

JACOB CAMPBELL

Was a lawyer of Rhode Island, who cultivated
poetry and literature in the intervals of his
business pursuits. He belonged to a family who,
with others from Scotland, settled at Voluntown,
in Connecticut, early in the eighteenth century.
His father, Archibald, came to East Greenwich,
Rhode Island, where Jacob was born in 1760.
He was a graduate of the Rhode Island College
of 1783, for a time was preceptor of a classical
school, and next studied law with General James
M. Varnum. On the establishment of peace in
1783, Campbell delivered a public address at East
Greenwich, at the announcement of that event.
He celebrated the same theme in some verses,
which are published in a volume from his pen of
Poetical Essays.

Updike, in his Memoirs of the Rhode Island
Bar, speaks of Campbell as " proud-spirited and
occasionally dejected ; — of a mind sensitive and
nervous, he was borne down with fancied suspi-
cions of intended injury and neglect.''t He died
in Ids twenty-eighth year, March 5, 1788.

LIBERTY.

Sweet Liberty ! descend thou Heaven-born fair,
And make Columbia thy distinguish' d care;
On her brave sons thy genial influence shed,
"Who fired by thee have nobly fought and bled —
Have traversed wilds to distant climes afar.
And felt the horrors of oppressive war.
Who first have taught Britannia's troops to yield,
And snatched their standards from the crimsoned

field.
Bright Goddess leave thy native skies once more,
And fix thy dwellii g on this western shore ;
A calm asylum here's prepared for thee,
Secured from tyrants, undisturbed and free; —

* State Trials of the L'nited States during the Administra-
tions of Washington and Adams, with references, historical and
professional, and preliminary notes on the politics of the times.
By Francis Wharton. Phila. 1S49.

t Memoirs of the Khode Island Bar, bvWilkins Updike, p.
134.

By thine assistance we've expell'd thy foes,
Whose grasping power annoyed thy sweet repose.

Lo, see her quit the blissful realms above,
Mark on her face the cheering smile of love ;
See as she bends her winged course this way
A beauteous sight her snowy robes display ;
In her right hand a sceptred wand she rears,
And in her left a cone-like mitre bears.
Now let us shout through this exulting band,
And hail her welcome to our joyful land.
Let the glad tidings through our coasts resound,
From rocks and mountains let the echo bound,
Let hills and vallies loud responses raise,
Let woods and forests ring in loftier praise, —
Fair Freedom we with joy confess thy sway,
Thy milder laws with pleasure we obey.

To this she listened with attentive ear,
Then spake in accents soft as vernal air : —
" I've discord seen thy country long embroil,
Thy virtuous struggles and laborious toil ;
Thy valor now I amply will repay
With brighter sunshine and serener day —
The richest blessings which you here can know,
I now on thee and thine unborn bestow.
In future days thy sons shall read thy fame,
Applaud thy conduct and extol thy name,
Throughout the world, in every foreign dime,
Thy deeds shall live down to remotest time —
'Till stars dissolve, and sun and moon expire,
'Till systems hurst and nature sink in fire,
My empire here 'till then shall fix'd remain,
Till then America shall own my reign."

Commerce again now rules the swelling deep,
Her num'rous fleets the surging billows sweep ;
Those stately oaks which lately graced tiie plain,
In lofty ships now skim the liquid main.
On ev'ry sea, near every kingdom coast,
And bring from thence what they peculiar boast.
Along the strand where flowing tides arise,
See towering cities fix the astonished eyes.
Religion here in milder forms array'd,
There Victress Science haunts the laurel shade —
Here culture o'er the fertile earth prevails,
There joy umivali'd every heart regales.
While this blest region free from dire alarms,
Invites the stranger to her peaceful arms.
With willing hand, she opes her plenteous store,
Relieves his wants, and kts him want no more, —
Grants him a refuge from the despot's chain,
Affords him life, and bids him five again.

MASON L. WEEMS.
Weems, the biographer of many heroes, in whose
hands the trumpet of ferae never sounded an un-
certain blast, remains (such, alas ! are the dis-
tributions of the world) without a biographer.
His memory rests in a mythic report of the sur-
vivors who sometimes met him on his various
journeys, and who have generally some stories to
relate of his amiable vagaries. Fame thus has
her system of compensations in keeping alive the
history of her subjects; and where there is no
printed record tradition more than supplies its
place. Of Weems, but for the impression of him-
self stamped on every page of his manifold pro-
ductions, and these somewhat vague and uncer-
tain reports, we should know but little.

How lov'd, how valu'd once avails him not,
To whom related or by whom begot.

We learn that he was Rector of Mount Ver-
non parish, before the Revolution, when the old

MASON L. WEEMS.

485

church at Pohick had for its attendant George
Washington. Mr. Lossing tells us* " that a large
and increasing family compelled him to abandon
preaching for a livelihood, and lie became a book
agent for Mathew Carey." Duly replenished
with a stock of Bibles, or Marshall's Life of Wash-
ington, or his own popular productions, he tra-
velled through the South, with a few sermons in
his knapsack, equally ready for a stump, a fair, or
a pulpit.

It would be difficult at this day to procure an
exact chronological catalogue of the books which
he himself wrote: though the more important
ones are still in vogue. Of these his Life of
Washington was published immediately after the
death of its illustrious subject.t The dedication
to Mrs. Martha Washington, like the tribute of
Humphreys and others, was a birth-day comme-
moration, being dated February 22, 1800. In the
second edition before us, it appears in an octavo
pamphlet firm of eighty-two pages. This is quite
a different production from the book as it was
afterwards rewritten, and as it is in circulation at
the present day. The topic was one which con-
stantly grew in love and wonder with Weems, and
what was at first a somewhat hurried sketch of
Washington's public career, with a lively pulpit
eulogy of his virtues, became but the nucleus for
the marvellous congregation of anecdotes which
the encouragement of the public led the author
to accumulate, as he ransacked memory, traversed
the ground of his hero's exploits, and talked with
those who had been familiar with his life ; while
in this good cause, if recollection and testimony
failed, a draft would certainly be honored by the

* Pictorial Field Book of the Revolution, ii. 42".
t A History of the Life and 'Death, Virtues and Exploits of
General George Washington, faithfully taken from authentic
documents, and, now in a second edition improved, respect-
fully offered to the perusal of his countrymen; as also, all
others who wish to see human nature in its most finished form.
Price, 25 cents.

A life^ how glorious, to his country led !

Belov'd while living, as rever'd now dead.

May his example, virtuous deeds inspire 1

Let future ages read it, and admire !
By the Rev. M. L. Weems, of lodge No. 50.— Dumfries, Phila-
delphia: reprinted by John Bioren, No. S3 Chestnut street,
fur the author. {Entered according to late.)

public, if drawn in snch a name on invention.
We believe that Weems would have accounted it
a venial pious fraud to tell any good story to the
credit of Washington, which came into his head
from any quarter or originated there in any way.
Weems went to work in stout heart and faith,
a Livy of the common people. He first gave the
fact and then the moral, anil neither of them was
dull. His piety was zealous as his patriotism.
The wind of his enthusiasm may have been
greater than the ballast of his argument, but the
ship was somehow gallantly driven along without
foundering. It is not literature, it may be granted,
and no one will pretend that it is history ; but
there is a great deal of Weems in it, and unli-
mited eulogy of George Washington. No voice
could be too loud, no powers of expression too
vigorous, to sing the praises of the man whose
virtues, in one of his quieter passages, he thus
sums up : — ■

It is hardly exaggeration to say that Washington
was pious as Xuma ; just us Aristides ; temperate as
Epictetus; patriotic as Regulus; in giving public
trusts, impartial as Severus ; in victory, modest as
Seipio; prudent as Fabius ; rapid as Mareellus ; un-
daunted as Hannibal ; us Cineiunatus disinterested ;
to liberty firm as Cato ; and respectful of the laws
as Socrates. Or, to speak in plainer terms — he was
religious without superstition ; just witliout rigour ;
charitable without profusion; hospitable without
making others pa}' for it ; generous but with his own
money ; rich without covetousness ; frugal without
meanness; humane without weakness ; brave with-
out rashness; successful without vanity ; victorious
without pride; a lover of his country, but no hater
of French or English ; a staunch friend of govern-
ment, but respectful of those who pointed out its de-
fects with decency; true to his word witliout eva-
sion or perfidy ; firm in adversity ; moderate in pros-
perity ; glorious and honoured in life ; peaceful and
happy in death.

This early life of Washington, which is dedi-
cated to his widow, is thus curiously summed up
with her epitaph, on the principle of the Vicar
of Wakefield, who hung a similar mortuary in-
scription over his mantelpiece, productive of
melancholy in the breast of Mrs. Primrose.

Here lie interred, all that could die

of

GEORGE WASHINGTON

and

MARTHA, his wife.

They were lovely in Life, and in Death

They were not divided,

Heirs of Immortality! Rejoice — For their Virtues,

Their Honours, may be }'0urs.

" Honour and shame from no condition rise,

Act well your part, there all the honour lies."

After Mrs. Washington's death, when the ser-
mon could no longer profit her, this epitaph was
omitted by Weems in his later editions. One of
these, the eleventh, in 1811, is the full developed
production, which made the reputation of Weems,
and added to the fortunes of the publisher,
Mathew Carey. It is entitled, The Life of George
Washington; with curious anecdotes, equally,
honourable to himself, and exemplary to his
young countrymen. The title-page treats us
further to a bit of verse in honor of Washington,

486

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN" LITERATURE.

and a bit of prose in honor of Weems, tho latter
signed, II. Lee, Major-General, Army U. S.

A life how useful to his country led!
How loved ! while living! — how revered, now dead !
Lisp! lisp! his name, ye children yet unborn!
And with like deeds your own great names adorn.

Lee announces that "the author lias treated
this great subject with admirable success in a
new way. He turns all the actions of Washing-
ton to the encouragement of virtue, by a careful
application of numerous exemplifications drawn
from the conduct of the founder of our republic
from his earliest life."

Judge Brackenridge also gave fan appreciative
certificate of the merits of the Washington.
" With regard to biographical merit, the delinea-
tion is such as to give a view of character not
on a parade day ; but as independent of command
or station. This is a painting which interests;
it is that which makes a likeness ; for a mere out-
line wanting the expression, gives no physiog-
nomy. I shall be glad to see more, in this way,
of some of the other heroes of the Revolutionary
period. General Greene particularly, whom I
have always placed next to Wa?hington in the
council and the field."

Benjamin Franklin was almost as good a sub-
ject as Washington, since Weems had a great deal
of Poor Richard always on his tongue, in support
of simplicity and frugality, though he never made
his fortune by his parsimony. There were, more-
over, anecdotes in abundance, and moralities at
every turn ; consequently, the life of Franklin
came from his hands glowing with unction, and
sparkling all over with eccentric passages. It
still holds its ground as a most entertaining
popular volume.*

An account of Penn is in the same vein. The
Life of William Penn, the settler of Pennsylva-
nia, the founder of Philadelphia, and one of the
first laughers in the Colonies, now United States,
in 1682, containing also his celebrated Treaty
with the Indians, his purchase of their country ;
valuable anecdotes of Admiral Penn, also of King
Charfes II., James II, King William and Queen
Anne, in whose reigns William Penn Iked ;
curious circumstances that led him to become a
Quaker, with a view of the admirable traits in
the character of the p>eople called Friends or
Quakers, who have done so much to meliorate the
condition of suffering humanity. Like a skilful
shopkeeper, Weems put a good portion of Ids
wares in the street window.

A fourth completes the series: — Tlie Life of
General Francis Marion, a celebrated partisan
officer in the Revolutionary War, against the
British and Tories in South Carolina and Geor-
gia, by Brig.-Gen. P. Horry, of Marion's Brigade :
and M. L. Weems. The travesty of Pope in the

* The Life of Benjamin Franklin ; with many choice anec-
dotes and admirable sayings of this g:eat man, never before
published by any ot'his biographers. By M. L. Weems, author
of the Life of Wellington.

Sage Franklin next arose in cheerful mien,
And smii d. unnifded, o'er the solemn scene ;
High on his locks of age, a wreath was brae'd,
Palm of all arts that e'er a mortal grae'd;
Beneath him lay the sceptre kings had borne,
And crowns and laurels from their temples torn,
rhlla. : Uriah Hunt. 1S35.

motto seems a little faithless to the transcendent
merits of Washington.

On Vernon's chief, why lavish #11 our lays,
Come, honest Muse, and sing great Marion's praise.

Though bearing Horry's name on the title-page,
this was throughout the production of Weems,
to whom Horry, a companion partisan officer with
Marion, had furnished the materials. Horry, a
straightforward man of sober judgment, was dis-
mayed at the antics his facts assumed in the
theatrical stylo of Weems. He expostulated with
him in a correspondence which has been recently
published.* The lively parson expresses himself
astonished at the possibility of offence, after he
had stretched evefypoint for the honor of Marion
and his lieutenant. " Though I have heard," says
he, "I can hardly believe it. What! is it pos-
sible that you can be displeased with a book
which places both your>elf and your beloved
Marion in so conspicuous and exalted a light ?
A book that contains every fact that you your-
self gave me — a book that everywhere meets
with unbounded applause — of which I have orders
for ninety copies in one single county in Georgia
— which has, in fact, changed the county of Wil-
kinson into that of Marion. A book which, in
short, sells better even than the life of Wa-hington.
Now, that you shcudd be displeased with such a
book, is to me very astonishing." Weems under-
stood very well his system of writing. He did
not attempt history, and blunder into poetry and
romance. He expres.-ly avows his intentions to
Horry — "I told you I must write it in my own
way, and knowing the pa-sion of the times for
novels, I have endeavoured to throw your ideas
and facts about General Marion into the garb and
dress of a military romance." Yet withal the
romance, though negligent in some points, i> truer
to history than many a dull unappreciative record.

Besides these, biographies at length, Weems's
original stock in trade was well supplied with the
light wares of tract and pamphlet. Patriotism, "
love, and morality were the burden of these effu-
sions. One of them was honored with a letter
from George Washington himself, which Wemis
procured to be engraved and published with the
pamphlet. It was entitled The Philanthropist :
or, Political Peace Maker between all honest men
of both pjarties, with the recommendation prefixed
by George Washington in his own handwriting.
Washington's letter was written in the summer
before his death, August, 17t)'J.t He considers it an
amiable attempt, but has some doubt of its success
in arresting the violence of party. One of these
moral writings of an early date is an octavo
pamphlet of fifty-fix pages, dedicated "to his ex-
cellency, Joseph Bloomfield, Esq., Governor of
the State of New Jersey," by his " affectionate
countryman and masonic brother." It appears to
have been, in part at least, delivered as an oration

* By Mr. Simms, from " the collection of a private gentle-
man" in a thoroughly genial presentation of "weems the bio-
grapher and historian," included in bis " Views and Kevicws
of American Literature, History, and Fiction."

t This title is from the tenth edition published in Philadel-
phia in 1SU9. We presume the following, which we find in a
catalogue, to be the title of an earlier edition of the same tract-
Weenu? Ph'd-.intliroinxi ; or, a good twrnty-five ctutswort/t of
political love powder, for hoatti Adavudies and Jejf'erso-
niatis.

MASON L. WEEMS.

4S1

before a masonic brotherhood, of which fraternity
Weems was a devoted member, the designation
" of Lodge No. 50 — Dumfries," being a frequent
appendage to his name on his title-pages. This
pamphlet contains an affectionate, simple address '
from the text, "little children love one another,"
followed by eight chapters on the several Excel-
lencies of a Republic, for reason, safety, wealth,
for fair play (in equal laws and taxes), for peace,
morals, patriotism, and population. The style of .
this production is quiet for Weems, who gained
confidence with his increasing audience. Its last
chapter is a fearful arraignment of the murders
of tyrants in their various systems of wars and
depredation.

Another tract, Hymen's Recruiting Sergeant ;
or, the netr Matrimonial Tat-too for Old Bache-
lors, is still circulated in popular form. There
was also a series of vigorous narratives and de- j
nuneiations, levelled at the wild crimes of the un- \
settled regions of the South. He took the titles
of these from Reynolds's similar improvements of j
the iniquities of the old world: God's Revenge
against Murder; oi\ the Drownhl Wife, a tra-
gedy. God's Revenge against Adultery ; or, the
Life of Rebecca Cotton. One of these tales of
terror, An Account of the Murder of Polly Find-
ley, by her husband Edward Findhij, contained
an inscription, •'Another Murder in old Edge-
field," which that " dark corner" of South Caro-
lina was disposed to resent. Mr. Simms tells the
story of the peril to which Weems exposed him-
self, and of his happy delivery from it. " lie
had occasion once to traverse the tabooed region,
which he did with considerable haste. The roads
were wretched, and his wagon, carrying an ample
collection of his pamphlets and histories, was
heavily laden. It sank into a quagmire, from
which' his own unas>isted strength utterly failed
to extricate it. He was many miles from human
habitation, the road was an obscure one, and the
day was lading. Even a philosopher might have
felt dubious of the situation. But Weems was a
philosopher of a peculiar order. He had his re-
medy. Unhitching his horse he suffered him to
feed at leisure in the wood, while he himself,
taking his violin from the case, took his seat on a
log by the road-side, and .coolly proceeded to ex-
tort from wood and catgut sucli strains as, in
that day and region, would have mocked the be>t
fantasia's of Ole Bull. They were not le>s pow-
erful in their effect. They drew to him an audi-
ence. Two wandering backwoodsmen suddenly
emerged from the covert, thoroughly charmed to
the spot by the old man's music. They lifted his
wheels out of the mire, and he rewarded them in
music. They asked him many questions, all of
which he answered with his how. They were
satisfied with his respon-es, and lie was tints en-
abled to escape in safety from the dangerous pre-
cincts. "I took precious care," said he, "to say
nothing of my name. When they pressed the
question, my fiddle drowned their words and my
own too."

There is another good dramatic anecdote of
W ems's fiddle. He was once requested to assist
with the instrument at a negro merry-making on
one of his southern tours. A difficulty, as the
story goes, presented itself in his clerical charac-
ter, and the impropriety of a clergyman playing

the fiddle under such circumstances. He con-
sented, however, willingly enough, if he could
fiddle without being seen. He was accordingly
placed behind a screen, which, as the jollity of the
evening went on, was thrown over, and the par-
son discovered to the company.

Of Weems's earlier parish life we have a pleas-
ing notice in the travels of John Davis, who was
in the United States from 1708 to 1802, and in
the latter portion of this time frequented Weems's
church at Pohick while he was living in the
vicinity. " Hither," he says, "I rode on Sundays

Pohick Churcb.

and joined the congregation of Parson Weems,
a minister of the Episcopal persuasion, who was
cheerful in his mien that he might win men to
religion." We have also this picture of the place
and the man : " A Virginian church-yard on a
Sunday resembles rather a race-ground than a
sepulchral-ground ; the ladies come to it in car-
riages, and the men, after dismounting from their
horses, make them fast to the trees. But the
steeples to the Virginian churches were designed,
not for utility but ornament; for the bell is al-
ways suspended to a tree a few yards from the
church. Itis also observable, that the gate to the
church-yard is ever carefully locked by the sexton,
who retires last; so that had Hervey and Gray
been born in America, the preacher of peace
could not have indulged in his Meditations among
the Tombs ; nor the poet produced the elegy that
has secured him immortality. Wonder andigno-
rance are ever reciprocal. I was confounded on
first entering the church-yard at Pohick to hear
steed threaten steed with high and boastful neigh.
Nor was I less stunned with the rattling of car-
riage wheels, the cracking of whips, and the vo-
ciferations of the gentlemen 10 the negroes, who
accompanied them. But the discourse of Parson
Weems calmed every perturbation for he preached
the great doctrines of salvation, as one who had
experienced their power. It was easy to discover
that he felt what he said; and indeed so uniform
was his piety, that he might have applied to him-
self the words of the prophet, 'My mouth shall
be telling of the righteousness and salvation of
Christ all the day long; for I know no end
thereof.' " Davis tells us that in his youth, Weems

488

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

" accompanied some young Americans to Lon-
don, where he prepared himself by diligent study
for the profession of the church."

We have not met with a record of Weems's birth
or of his birth-place. His death took place at
Beaufort, South Carolina, Hay 23, 1825.

EARLY ANECDOTES OF WASHINGTON.

To assist his son to overcome that selfish spirit,
which too often leads children to fret and fight about
trifles, was a notable care of Ml', Washington. For
tills purpose, of all the presents, such as cakes, fruit,
(fee., he received, he was always desired to give a
liberal part to his playmates. To enable him to do
this with more alacrity, his father would remind him
of the love winch he would hereby gain, and the
frequent presents which would in return be made to
him; and also would tell of that great and good
God, who delights above all things to see children
love one another, and will assuredly reward them for
acting so amiable a part.

Some idea of Mr. Washington's plan of education
in this respect may be collected from the following
anecdote, related to me twenty years ago by an aged
lady, who was a distant relative, and when a girl
spent much of her time in the family :

" On a fine morning," said she, " in the fall of 1T37,
Mr. "Washington, having little George by the hand,
came to the door and asked my cousin AVashington
and myself to walk with him to the orchard, promising
he would show us a fine sight. On arriving at the
orchard, we were presented with a fine sight indeed.
The whole earth, as far as we could see, was strewed
with fruit: and yet the trees were bending under
the weight of apples, which hung in clusters like
grapes, and vainly strove to hide their blushh g
cheeks behind the green leaves. Now, George, said
his father, Look here, my son ! Don't you remem-
ber when this good cousin of yours brought you
that fine large apple last spring, how hardly I could
prevail on you to divide it with your brothers and
sisters; though I promised you that if you would
but do it, God Almighty would give you plenty of
apples this fall. Poor George could not say a word;
but hanging down his head, looked quite confused,
while with his little naked toes he scratched in the
soft ground. Now look up, my son, continued his
father: Look up, George ! and see there how richly
the blessed God has made good my promise to you.
Wherever you turn your eyes, you see the trees
loaded with fine fruit; many of them indeed break-
ing down, while the ground is covered with mellow
apples, more than you could ever eat, my son, in all
your lifetime.

" George looked in silence on the wide wilderness
of fruit; he marked the busy humming-bees, and
heard the gay notes of birds, then lifting his eyes,
filled with shining moisture, to his father, he softly
said, ' Well, Pa, only forgive me this lime ; and see
if I ever be so stingy any more.' "

Some, when they look up to the oak, whose giant
arms throw a darkening shade over distant acres, or
whose single trunk lays the keel of a man of war,
cannot bear to hear of the time when this mighty
plant was but an acorn, which a pig could have de-
molished : but others, who know their value, like to
learn the Boil and situation which best produces
such noble trees. Thus, parents that are wise will
listen well pleased, while I relate how moved the
steps of the youthful Washington, whose single
worth far outwreighs all the oaks of Bashan, andthe
red spicy cedars of Lebanon. Yes, they will listen
delighted while I tell of their Washington in the
days of his youth, when his little feet were swift

towards the nests of birds ; or when, wearied in the
chase of the butterfly, he laid him down on his
grassy couch and slept, while ministering spirits
with their roseate wings, fanned his glowing cheeks,
and kissed his lips of innocence with that fervent
love which makes the Heaven I

Never did the wise Ulysses take more pains with
his beloved Telemachus, than did Mr. Washington
with George, to inspire him with an early love of
truth. "Truth, Geoige," (said he) " is the loveliest
quality of youth. I would ride fifty miles, my son,
to see the little boy wdiose heart is so honest, and his
lips so pure, that we may depend on every word he
says. O how lovely does such a child appear in the
eyes of everybod}-! His parents doat on him ; his
relations glory in him ; they are constantly praising
him to their children, whom they beg to imitate him.
i They are often sending for him, to visit them; and
I receive him, when he comes, with as much joy as
if he were a little angel, come to set pretty examples
to their children.

"But, Oh! how different, George, is the case with
the boy who is so given to lying that nobody can
believe a word he says! He is looked at with aver-
sion wherever he goes, and parents dread to see him
come among their children. Oh, Geoige, my sou!
rather than see you come to this pass, dear as you
are to my heart, gladly would I assist to nail j'ou
up in your little coffin, and follow you to your grave.
Hard, indeed, would it be to me to give up my son,
whose little feet aie always so ready to run about
with me, and whose fondly looking eyes and sweet
prattle make so large a part of my happiness ; but
still I would give him up, rather than see him a
common liar.

" Pa," (said George, very seriously) " do I ever tell
lies V

"No, George, I thank- God you do not, my son;
and I rejoice in the hope you never will. At least,
you shall never, from mo, have cause to be guilty of
so shameful a tiling. Many parents, indeed, even
compel their children to this vile practice, by bar-
barously beating them for every little fault; hence,
on the next offence, the little terrified creature slips
out a lie ! just to escape the rod. But as to yourself,
George, you know I have always told you, and now
tell you again, that, whenever by accident you do
anything wrong, which must often be the case, as
you are but a poor little boy yet, without experience
or knowledge, never tell a falsehood to conceal it;
but come bravely up, my son, like a little man, and
tell me of it: and instead of beating you, George,
I will but the more honor and love you for it, my
dear."

This, you'll say, was sowing good seed ! Yes, it
was: and the crop, thank God, was, as I believe it
ever will be, where a man acts the true parent, that
is, the Guardian Angel, by his child.

The following anecdote is a case in point. It is
too valuable to be lost, and tpo true to be doubted ;
for it was communicated to me by the same excel-
lent lady to whom 1 am indebted for the last.

"When George," said she, "was about six years
old, he was made the wealthy master of a hatchet!
of which, like most little boys, he was immoderately
fond, and was constantly going about chopping
everything that came in his way. One day, in the
garden, where he often amused himself hacking his
mother's pea sticks, he unluckily tried the edge of
his hatchet on the body of a beautiful young English
cherry-tree, which he barked so terribly that I don't
believe the tree ever got the better of it. The next
morning the old gentleman finding out what had
befallen his tree, which, by the by, was a great
j favorite, came iuto the house, and with much warmth

MASON L. WEEMS.

489

asked for the mischievous author, declaring at the
same time that he would not have taken five gui-
neas for his tree. Nobody could toll him anything
about it. Presently George and his hatchet made
their appearance. George, said his father, do you
know who killed that beautiful little cherry tree yon-
der in the garden? This was a tough question; and
George staggered under it for a moment; but quick-
ly recovered himself, and looking at his father with
the sweet face of youth brightened with the inex-
pressible charm of all-conquering truth, he bravely
cried out, '/ cant tell a lie. Pa; you know I can't
tell a lie. I did cut it with my hatchet.' Run to my
arms, you dearest boy, cried ins father in transports,
run to my arms. Glad am I, George, that you killed
my tree; for you have paid tne for it a thousandfold.
Such an act of heroism in my soti is more worth than
a thousand trees, though blossomed with silver, and
their fruits of purest gold''

It was in this way, by interesting at once both his
heart and head, that Mr. Washington conducted
George with great ease and pleasure along the
happy paths of virtue. But well knowing that his
beloved charge, soon to be a man, would be left
exposed to numberless temptations, botli from himself
and from others, his heart throbbed with the ten-
derest anxiety to make him acquainted with that
great being, whom to know and love is to possess
the surest defence against vice, and the best of all
motives to virtue and happiness. To startle George
into a lively sense of his Maker, he fell upon the
following very curious but impressive expedient:

One day he went into the garden, and prepared a
little bed of finely pulverized earth, on which he
wrote George's name at lull, in large letters. Then
strewing in plenty of cabbage seed, he covered them
up, and smoothed all down nicely witli the roller.
This bed he purposely prepared close alongside of a
gooseberry walk, which happening at this time to be
well hung with ripe fruit, he knew would be honor-
ed with George's visits pretty regularly every d:iy.
Not many mornings had passed away before in came
George, with eyes wild rolling, and his little cheeks
ready to burst with great news.
"0, Pa! come here! come here!"
" What's the matter, my son, what's the matter?"
" 0 come here, I tell you, Pa, come here ! and I'll
show you such a sight as you never saw in all your
lifetime."

The old gentleman suspecting what George would
be at, gave him his hand, which he seized with great
eager .ess. and tugging him along through the gar-
den, led him point blank to the bed whereon was
inscribed, in large letters, and in all the freshuess of
newly sprung plants, the full name of
GEORGE WASHINGTON.
" There, Pa !" said George, quite in an ecstacy of
astonishment, " did you ever see such a sight in all
your lifetime?"

" Why, it seems like a curious affair, sure enough,
George !"

"But, Pa, who did make it there? who did make
it there ?"

" It grew there by chance, I suppose, my son."
" By chance, Pa ! 0 no! no! it never did grow
there by chance, Pa ; indeed that it never did I"
" High ! why not, my sou ?"

" Why, Pa, did you ever see anybody's name in a
plant bed before?"

" Well, but George, such a thing might happen,
though you never saw it before."

" Yes, Pa, but I did never see the little plants
grow up so as to make one single letter of my name
before. Now how could they grow up so as to make
all the letters of my name? Aud then standing one

after another, to spell my name so exactly I And all
so neat and even, too, at top and bottom ! 0 Pa, you
must not say chance did all this. Indeed somebody
did it; and I dare say now, Pa, you did it just to
scare me, because I am your little boy."

His father smiled, and said, " Well, George, you
have guessed right. I indeed did it ; but not to scare
you, my sou ; but to learn you a great thing which
I wish you to understand. 1 want, my son. to intro-
duce you to your true Father."

" High, Pa, an't you my true father, that has loved
me, and been so good to me always ?"

" Yes, George, I am your father, as the world calls
it; and I love you very dearly too. But yet witli
all my love for you, George, I am but a poor good-
for-nothing sort of a father in comparison of one
you have."

"Aye! I know, well enough, whom you mean,
Pa. You mean God Almighty, don't you?"

" Yes, my son, I mean him indeed. He is your
true Father, George."

" But, Pa, where is God Almighty ? I did never
see him yet."

" True, my son ; but though you never saw him,
yet lie is always witli you. You did not see me
when ten days ago I made this little plant bed, where
you see your name in such beautiful green letters ;
but though you did not see me here, yet you know I
was here!"

" Yes, Pa, that I do. I know you were here."

" Well, then, aud as my sou could nut believe that
chance had made and put together so exactly the
letters of his name, (though only sixteen) then how
can he believe t\\nt chance could have made and put
together all those millions and millions of things
that are now so exactly fitted to his good ! That ray
son may look at everything around him, see ! what
fine eyes he has got! aud a little pug nose to smell
the sweet flowers! and pretty ears to hear sweet
soundsl and a lovely mouth for his bread and but-
ter! and 0, the little ivory teeth to cut it for him!
and the dear little tongue to prattle with his father!
and precious little hands and fingers to hold his
playthings! and beautiful little feet for him to run
about upon! ami when my little rogue of a son is
tired with running about, then the still night comes
for him to lie down, and his mother sings, and the
little crickets chirp him to sleep ! and as soon as he
has slept enough, and jumps up fresh and strong as a
little buck, there the sweet golden light is ready for
him ! When he looks down into the water, there
he sees the beautiful silver fishes for him! and up
in the trees there are the apples, and peaches, and
thousands of sweet fruits for him! aud all, all
around him, wherever ray dear boy looks, he sees
everything1 just to his wants and wishes; the
bubbling springs with cool sweet water for him to
drink ! and the wood to make him sparkling tires
when he is cold! ami beautiful horses for him to
ride! and strong oxen to work for him ! and the
good cows to give him milk! and bees to make sweet
honey for his sweeter mouth! and the little lambs,
with- snowy wool, for beautiful clothes for him!
Now, these and all the ten thousand other good things
more than my son can ever think of, and all so
exactly fitted to his use and delight — Now how
could chance ever have done all this for my little
son ? Oil, George !— "

He would have gone on, but George, who had
hung upon his father's words with looks and eyes of
all-devouring attention, here broke out —

" Oh. Pa, that's enough ! that's enough ! It ean't
be chance, indeed, it can't be chance, that made and
gave me all these things."

" What was it then, do you think, my son?"

490

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

" Indeed, Pa, I don't know unless it was God Al-
mighty .'"

" Yes, George, he it was, my son, and nobody
else."

" Well, but Pa," continued George, " does God
Almighty give me everything ? Don't you give me
some t/tdngs, Pa?"

" I give you something indeed ! Oh, how .can I
give you anything, George? I who have nothing on
earth that 1 can call my own, no, not even the
breath I draw I"

" High, Pa ! Isn't that great big house your
house, and this garden, and the horses yonder, and
oxen, and sheep, and trees, and everything, isn't all
yours, Pa ?"

" Oh no, my son ! No ! Why you make me
shrink into nothing, George, when you talk of all
these belonging to me, who can't even make a grain
of sand ! Oh, how could I, my son, have given life
to those great oxen and horses, when I can't give
life even to a fly ? Ko, for if the poorest fly were
killed, it is not your father, George, nor all the men
in the world that could ever make him alive again!"

At this George fell into a profound silence, while
his pensive looks showed that his youthful soul was
laboring with some idea never felt before. Perhaps
it was at this moment that the good spirit of,God
ingrafted on his heart that germ of piety, which
filled his after life with so many of the precious
fruits of morality,

KEIMEll'S ATTEMPT AT A NEW RELIGION — FROM THE LIFE OF
FRANKLIN.

Ben was naturally comic in a high degree, and
this pleasant vein, greatly improved by his present
golden prospects, betrayed him into ninny a frolic
with Keinier, to whom he had prudently attached
himself as a journeyman, until the Annis should sail.
The reader will excuse Ben for these frolics when lie
comes to learn what were their aims ; as also what
an insufferable old creature this Kcimer was. .Silly
as a noony, yet vain as a jay, and garrulous as a tie,
he could never rest but when in a stiff argument,
ami acting the orator, at which he looked on Cicero
himself as but a boy to him. Here was a fine target
for Ben's Socratic artillery, which he frequently
played off on the old Pomposo with great effect.
By questions artfully put, he would obtain of him
certain points, which Keimer readily granted, as
seeing in them no sort of connexion with the matter
in debate. But yet these points, when granted, like
distant nets slyly hauling round a porpoise or stur-
geon, would, by degrees, so completely circumvent
the silly fish, that with all his flouncing and fury he
could never extricate himself, but rather got more
deeply entangled. Of^en caught in this way, he
became at last so afraid of Ben's questions, that he
■would turn as mad when one of them was "poked
at him," as a bull at sight of a scarlet cloak ; and
would not answer the simplest question without
first asking, "well, and what would you make of
that ?" He came at length to form so exalted an
opinion of Ben's talents for refutation, that lie
seriously proposed to him one day that they should
turn out together and preach up a Kew Religion !
Keimer was to preach and make the converts, and
Ben to answer and put to silence the gainsayers.
He said a world of money might be made by it.

On hearing the outlines of this new religion, Ben
found great fault with it. This he did only that he
might have another frolic with Keimer; but his
frolics were praiseworthy, for they all " leaned to
virtue's side." Thetruth is, he saw that Keimer
was prodigiously a hypocrite. At every whipstitch
he could play the knave, and then for a pretence

would read his Bible. But it was not the moral
part of the Bible, the sweet precepts and parables
of the Gospel that he read. iSo, verily. Food so
angelic was not at all to the tooth of his childish
fancy, which delighted in nothing but the novel and
curious. Like too many of the saints now-a-days,
he would rather read about the witch of Endor,
than the good Samaritan, and hear a sermon on the
brazen candlesticks than on the love of God. And
then, O dear! who was Melchizedeck ? Or where
was the land of iSod ? Or, was it in the shape of a
serpent or a monkey that the devil tempted Eve ?
As he was one day poring over the pentateuch as
busy after some nice game of this sort as a terrier
on the track of a weazel, he came to that famous
text where iloses says, " thou shalt not mar the cor-
ners of thy beard," Aye ! this was the divinity for
Keimer. It struck him like a new light from the
clouds: then rolling his eyes as from an apparition,
he exclaimed, " miserable man that I am ! and was
I indeed forbidden to mar even the corners of my
beard, and have I been all this time shaving myself
as smooth as an eunuch ! Fire and brimstone, how
have you been boiling up for me, and I knew it not!
Hell, deepest hell is my portion, that's a clear case,
unless I reform. And reform I will if I live. Yes,
my poor naked chin, if ever I but get another crop
upon thee and I suffer it to be touched by the un-
godly steel, then let my right hand forget her cun-
ning."

From that day he became as shy of a razor as
ever Samson was. His long black whiskers
"whistled in the wind." And then to see how he
would stand up before his glass and stroke them
down, it would have reminded you of some ancient
Druid, adjusting the sacred Mistletoe.

Ben could not bear that sight. Such shameless
neglect of angel morality, and yet such fidgetting
about a goatish beard ! " Heavens, sir," said he to
Keimer, one day in the midst of a hot argument,

" Who can think, with common sense,
A smooth shaved face gives God offence?
Or that a whisker hath a charm,
Eternal justice to disarm r"

He even proposed to him to get shaved. Keimer
swore outright that he would never lose his beard.
A stiff altercation ensued. But Keimer getting
angry, Ben agreed at last to give up the beard. He
said that," as the beard at best was but an external,
a mere excrescence, he would not insist on that as
so very essential. But certainly, sir," continued lie,
" there is one thing that is."

Keimer wanted to know what that was.

"Why, sir," added Ben, "this turning out and
preaching up a New Religion, is, without, doubt, a
very serious affair, and ought not to be undertaken
too hastily. jVluch time, sir, in my opinion at least,
should be spent in making preparation, in which
fasting should certainly have a large share."

Keinier, who was a great glutton, said lie could
never fast.

Ben then insisted that if they were not to fast
altogether, they ought, at any rate, to abstain from
animal food, and live as the saints of old did, on
vegetables' unci water.

Keimer shook his head, and said that if he were
to live on vegetables and water, he should soon die.

Ben assured him that it. was entirely a mistake.
He had tried it often, he said, and could testify from
his own experience that he was never more healthy
and cheerful than when he lived on vegetables alone.
"Die from feeding on vegetables, indeed! Why,
sir, it contradicts reason ; and contradicts ail history,
ancient and profane. There was Daniel, and his
three young friends, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-

MASON L. WEEMS.

491

nego, who fed on a vegetable diet, of choice; did
they languish and die of it! Or rather did they
not display a rouge of health and fire of genius, far
beyond those silly youths who crammed on all the
luxuries of the royal table? And that amiable
Italian nobleman, Lewis Cornaro, "who says of
bread, that it was such a dainty to his palate, that
he was almost afraid, at times, it was too good for
him to eat; did he languish and die of this simple
fare ? On the contrary, did he not outlive three
generations of gratified epicures, and after all, go
off in his second century, like a bird of Paradise,
singing the praises of Temperance and Virtue? And
pray, six*," continued Ben, " where's the wonder of
all this ? Must not the blood that is formed of vege-
tables be the purest in nature? And then, as the
spirits depend on the blood, must not the spirits se-
creted from such blood be the purest too? And
when this is the case with the blood and spirits,
which are the very life of the man, must not that
man enjoy the best chance for such healthy secre-
tions and circulations as are most conducive to long
and happy life ?''

Whi!e Ben argued at this rate, Keimer regarded
him with a look which seemed to say, " Very true,
sir; all this is very true, but still I cannot go it."

Ben, still unwilling to give up his point, thought
he wo dd make one more push at him. " What a
pity it is," said he with a sigh, " that the blessings
of s i sublime a religion should be all lost to the
'worl 1, merely for lack of a little fortitude on the
part of its propagators."

This was touching him on the right string ; for
Keimer was a man of such vanity, that a little Hat-
toy would put him up to anything. So after a few
hems and ha's, he said, he believed he would, at any
rate, make a trial of this new regimen.

Havi ig thus carried his point, Ben immediately
engaged a poor old woman of the neighborhood to
become their cook; and gave her off-hand, written
receipts for three and forty dishes; not one of
which contained a single atom of fish, flesh, or fowl.
For their first day's breakfast on the nam regimen,
the nld woman treated them with a tureen of oat-
meal gruel. Keimer was particularly fond of his
breakfast, at which a nice beef-steak with onion
sauce was a standing dish. It was as good as a
farce to Ben, to see with wdiat an eye Keimer re-
garded the tureen, when, entering the room, in place
of his steak, hot, smoking, and savory, he beheld
this pale, meagre-looking slop.

" What have you got there?" said he, with a
visage gram, and scowling eye.

"A disli of hasty pudding," replied Ben, with the
smile of an innocent youth who had a keen appe-
tite, with something good to satisfy it; "a dish of
nice hasty pudding, sir, made of oats."

" Of oats ?" retorted Keimer, with a voice raised
to a scream.

" Yes, sir, oats," rejoined Ben ; " oats, that pre-
cious grain which gives such elegance and fire to
our noblest of quadrupeds, the horse."

Keimer growled out, that he was no horse to eat
oats.

" No matter for that," replied Ben, " 'tis equally
good for men."

Keimer denied that any human being ever eat
oats.

" Aye I" said Ben, " and pray what's become of
the Scotch? Don't they live on oats? And yet,
where will you find a people so ' bonny, blythe, and
gay?' a nation of 'such wits and warriors-?"

As there was no answering this, Keimer sat down
to the tureen, and swallowed a few spoonfuls, but
not without making as many wry faces as if it had

been so much jalap ; while Ben, all smile and chat,
breakfasted most deliciously.

At dinner, by Ben's order, the old woman paraded
a trencher piled up with potatoes. Keimer s grum-
bling fit came on him again. "He saw clear
enough," he said, " that he was to be poisoned."

'■ Poll I cheer up, man," replied Ben; "tins is
your right preacher's bread."

" Bread the d — 1!" replied Keimer, snarling.
" Yes, bread, sir," continued Ben, pleasantly; "the
bread of life, sir ; for where do you find such health
and spirits, such bloom and beauty, as among the
honest-hearted Irish, and yet for their breakfast,
dinner, and supper, the potato is their tetotum ; the
first, second, and third course."

In this way, Ben and his old woman went on with
Keimer ; daily ringing the changes on oatmeal gruel,
roasted potatoes, boile 1 rice, a.,d so on, through the
whole family of roots and grains in all their various
genders, moods, and tenses.

Sometimes, like a restive mule, Keimer would
kick up and show strong symptoms of flying the

j way. But then Ben would prick him up again with

, a touch of his ruling passion, vanity. " O.dy think,
Mr. Keimer," he would say, " oidy think what has
been done by the founders of new religions : how
they have enlightened the ignorant, polished the
rude, civilized the savage, and made heroes of those
who were little better than brutes. Think, sir, what
Moses did among the stiff-necked Jews ; what Maho-
met did among the wild Arabs ; ami what you may
do among these gentle drab-coated Peunsylvauians."
This, like a spur in the Hank of a jaded horse, gave
Keimer a new start, anil pushed him on afresh to
his gruel breakfasts and potato dinners. Ben strove
hard to keep him up to this gait. Often at table,
and especially when he saw that Keimer was in
good humour and fed kindly, he would give a loose
to fane}', and paint the advantages of their new regi-

; men in the most glowing colors. "Aye, sir," he
would say, letting drop at the same time his spoon,
as in an ecstacy of his subject, while his pudding on
the platter cooled, " aye, sir, now we are beginning
to live like men going a preaching indeed. Let
your epicures gormandize their fowl, fish, and flesh,
with draughts of intoxicating liquors. Such gross,
inflammatory food may suit the brutal votaries of
Mars ami Venus. But our views, sir, are different
altogether ; we are going to teach wisdom and
benevolence to mankind. This is a heavenly work,
sir, and our minds ought to lie heavenly. .Now, as
the mind depends greatly on the body, and the body
on the food, we should certainly select that which is
of the most pure and refining quality. And this,
sir, is exactly the food to our purpose. This mild
potato, or this gentle pudding, is the thing to insure

' the light stomach, the cool liver, the clear head, and
above all, those celestial passions which become a
preacher that would moralize the world. And these
celestial passions, sir, let me add, though I don't
pretend to be a prophet, these celestial passions, sir,
were yon but to stick to this diet, would soon shine
out in your countenance with such apostolic majesty
and grace, as would strike all beholders with reve-
rence, and enable you to carry the world before you."
Such was the style of Ben's rhetoric with old
Keimer. But it could not all do. For though these
harangues would sometimes make him fancy himself
as big as Zoroaster or Confucius, and talk as if he
should soon have the whole country running after
him, and worshipping him for the Grkat Lama of

| the west; yet this divinity fit was too niueli against
the grain to last long. Unfortunately for poor
Keimer, the kitchen lay between him and his bishop-
ric: and both nature and habit had so wedded him

492

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITEEATUEE.

to that swinish idol, that nothing could divorce him.
So after having been led by Ben a " very d — / of a
life," as he called it, "for three months'' his flesh-
pot appetites prevailed, and he swore, " by his whis-
kers, he would suffer it no longer'' Accordingly he
ordered a nice roast pig for dinner, and desired Ben
to invite a young friend to dine with them. Ben
did so: but neither himself nor his young friend
were anything the better for the pig. For before
they cuuld arrive, the pig being done, and his appe-
tite beyond all restraint, Keimer had fallen on it and
devoured the whole. And there he sat panting and
torpid as an Anaconda who had just swallowed a
young buffalo. But still his looks gave sign that
the " Ministers of Grace " had not entirely deserted
him, for at sight of Ben and his young friend, he
blushed up to the eyelids, and in a glow of scarlet,
which showed that he paid dear for his whistle
(glutton}"), he apologized for disappointing them of
their dinner. " Indeed, the smell of the pig," he
said, " was so sweet, and the nicely browned skin so
inviting, especially to him who had been long starv-
ed, that for the soul of him he could not resist the
temptation to taste it — and then, O I if Lucifer him-
self had been at the door, lie must have gone on, let
what would have been the consequences." He said,
too, " that for his part he was glad it was a pig and
not a hog, for that he verily believed he should have
bursted himself." Then leaning back in his chair
and pressing his swollen abdomen with his paws, he
exclaimed, with an awkward laugh, " Well, I don't
believe I was ever cut out for a bishop!" Here
ended the faree: for Keimer never after this uttered
another word about his Sew Religion.

Ben used, laughing, to say that he drew Keimer
into this scrape that he might enjoy the satisfaction
of starving him out of his'gluttouy. And he did it
also that he might save the more for books and can-
dles: their vegetable regimen costing him, in all,
rather less than three cents a day ! To those who
can spend twenty times this sum on tobacco and
whiskey alone, three cents per day must appear a
scurvy allowance, and of course poor Ben must be
sadly pitied. But such philosophers should remem-
ber that all depends on our loves, whose property it
is to make bitter things sweet, and heavy things light.

For example: to lie out in the darksome swamp
with no other canopy but the sky, and no bed but
the cold ground, and his oidy music the midnight
owl or screaming alligator, seems terrible to servile
minds; but it was joy to Marion, whose "whole
soul," as General Lee well observes, " was devoted to
liberty and country."

So, to shut himself up in a dirty printing-office,
with no dinner but a bit of bread, no supper but an
apple, must appear to every epicure as it did to
Keimer, " a mere d — I of a life ;" but it was joy to
Ben, whose whole soul was on his books, as the
Bacred lamps that were to guide him to usefulness
and glory.

Happy he who early strikes into the path of wis-
dom, and bravely walks therein till habit sprinkles
it with roses. He shall be led as a lamb among the
green pastures along the water courses of pleasure,
nor shall he ever experience the pang of those

Who pee the right, and approve it too ;
Condemn the wrong — aDd yet the wrong pursue.

JED1DIAH MOESE.

The author of the first geography of the United
States, Jedidiah Morse, was a descendant of an

old New England family, and was born at "Wood-:
stock, Conn., in 1761. He became a graduate of
Yale in 1783, and was installed minister of the
church at Charlestown, Mass., April 30, 1789,
where he remained until 1821. The remainder
of his life was passed at New Haven, where he
died, June 9, 1826. He published a number of
sermons, delivered on thanksgivings, fasts, and
other special occasions ; a work on the election
of a Hollis professor of divinity, in 1805 ; a brief
abridgment of the History ojNew England ; a
General Gazetteer ; and his Geography, the first
edition of which appeared in 1789. "Four
years," he states, " were employed in this work,
during which period he visited the several states
of the Union, maintained an extensive corre-pon-
dence with men of science, and submitted his
manuscripts to the inspection of gentlemen in the
states which they particularly described for their
correction." The portion devoted to the United
States occupies 480 out of the 530 closely printed
octavo pages, and contains a full description not
only of the natural features of the country, but
of its history, and is especially valuable for its
minute account of the chief towns and cities, and
its gossiping observation upon the manners and
customs of the people of the different states. He
also published in 1822 a Report of a Tour among
the Indians in the Summer 0/"182O, made in pur-
suance of a commission from government.

ALBERT GALLATIN.

Albert Gallatin was horn at Geneva, Switzer-
land, January 29, 1761. His parents died in his
infancy; but by the care of a distant lady relative
of his mother, he received an excellent education.
After graduating in 1799 from the university of
his native city, he emigrated to America, and
landed at Boston, July 14, 1780. Meeting here
with some friends of his family who designed
settling in Maine, he accompanied them to their
destination, near the fort at Machias. On ar-
riving there, he found the commander, Captain
John Allen, engaged in raising a company of vo-
lunteers to march to the defence of Passama-
quoddy. He not only joined and accompanied
the expedition, but loaned the commanding
officer six hundred dollars, nearly all the money
he had, taking an order on the government in
payment. On his return to Boston, he found
the treasury destitute of funds, and, nnable to
wait for the chances of its replenishment, was
forced to sell his claim for one third of its value.
In 1782 he was appointed teacher of French
in Harvard College, and in the following year
removed to Virginia. Here he was brought into
prominent notice by the ability with which he
argued the claims of some foreign capitalists who
had made large advances to the state of Virginia.
We next find him purchasing, with the patrimony
which he had drawn from Europe, an extensive
tract in the west of the state. It was probably
while engaged in examining these lands, that the
interview occurred with General Washington,
which is related in Mr. John R. Bartlett's address
before the N Y. Historical Society* on the de-
cease of Mr. Gallatin.

• Lit, World, v. 510.

ALBERT GALLATIN.

493

"Mr Gallatin said lie first met General Washington
at the office of a Land Agent, near the Keuawha
river, in North Western Virginia, where he (Mr. G.)
had been engaged in surveying. The office consist-
ed of a log house, 14 feet square, in which was but
one rooni. In one corner of this was a bed for the
use of the agent. General Washington, who owned
large tracts of land in this region, was then visiting
them in company with his nephew, and at the same
time examining the country with a view of opening
a road across the Alleghames. Many of the settlers
and hunters familiar witli the country, had been in-
vited to meet the General at this place, for the pur-
pose of giving him such information as would enable
him to select the most eligible pass for the con-
templated road. Mr. Gallatin felt a desire to meet
this great man, and determined to await his arri-
val.

"On his arrival, General Washington took his seat
at a pine table in the log cabin, or rather land
agent's office, surrounded by the men who had
come to meet him. They all stood up, as there was
no room for seats. Some of the more fortunate,
however, secured quarters on the bed. They then
underwent an examination by the. General, who
wrote down all the particulars stated by them. He
was very inquisitive, questioning one after the
other, and noting down all they said. Mr. Gallatin
stood among the others in the crowd, though quite
near the table, and listened attentively to the
numerous queries put by the General, and very
soon discovered from the various relations which
was the only practicable pass through which the
road could be made. He felt uneasy at the in-
decision of the General, when the point was so evi-
dent to him, and without reflecting on the impro-
priety of it, suddenly interrupted him, saying, ' Oh,
it is plain enough, such a plaee(a spot just mentioned
by one of the settlers) is the most practicable.' The
good people stared at the young surveyor (for they
only knew him as such) with surprise, wondering at
his boldness in thrusting his opinion unasked upon
the General.

" The interruption put a sudden stop to General
Washington's inquiries. He laid down his pen,
raised his eyes from his paper, and cast a stern look
at Mr. Gallatin, evidently offended at the intrusion
of Ills opinion, but said not a word. Resuming his
former attitude, he continued his interrogations for
a few minutes longer, when, suddenly stopping, he
threw down his pen, turned to Mr. Gallatin, and
said, ' You are right, sir.'

" ' It was so on all occasions with General Wash-
ington,' remarked Mr. Gallatin to me. ' He was
slow in forming an opinion, and never decided until
he knew he was right."

" To continue the narrative: the General stayed
here all night, occupying the bed alluded to, while
his nephew, the land ageut, and Mr. Gallatin rolled
themselves in blankets and buffalo skins, and lay
upon the bare floor. After the examination men-
tioned, and when the party went out, General
Washington inquired who the young man was who
hail interrupted him, made his acquaintance, and
learned all the particulars of his history. They
occasionally met afterwards, and the General urged
Mr. Gallatin to become his land agent ; but as Mr.
Gallatin was then, or intended soon to become, the
owner of a large tract of land, he was compelled to
decline the favorable offer made him by General
Washington."

Gallatin was prevented from settling on his
lands in consequence of the hostilities of the
Indians, and in 1786 purchased a farm on the

Monongahela, in Pennsylvania, on the borders of
Virginia.

In 1789 he was elected a member of the con-
vention assembled to amend the constitution of
the state, and in the following year a member of
the House of Representatives of the same com-
monwealth, lie soon became the leading mem-
ber of that body, by whom he was chosen in
1793 United States Senator.

He took his seat, but retained it only two
months, it being then decided, after elaborate
argument, by a strict party vote of fourteen to
twelve, that he was ineligible to the office. The
point in dispute related to the period from which
his citizenship was to be dated.

In 1794 Mr. Gallatin married a daughter of
Commodore Nicholson, and returning to his resi-
dence in Pennsylvania, was soon again engaged
in public affairs in consequence of the insurrec-
tion against the excise duty then levied by Con-
gress. He attended a public meeting of citizens
of the western counties, called to take in consi-
deration the unsettled state of the country arising
from this difficulty, and by his influence suc-
ceeded in preventing the passage of resolutions
of a violent and treasonable nature, and pro-
curing the appointment of delegates to treat with
those appointed for the purpose by the federal
and state governments.

On the fourteenth of October, in the same year,
he was elected member of Congress for the district
adjacent to that in which he resided, lie was
put up, without his knowledge, as an independent
candidate, in opposition to the nominees of the
two regular parties, on the express ground of his
recent service in the cause of order.

Gallatin entered Congress Dec, 1795, and was
thrice re-elected by the same district, but was
prevented from serving his fourth term by his
appointment as Secretary of the Treasury by Mr.
Jefferson. He at once became the leader of the
republican party. His services to the country in
its financial relations have been universally ac-
knowledged. He opposed the increase of the
national debt, and prepared the way for its
gradual extinction. He was a warm advocate of
internal improvements, and particularly of the
National Road and of the Coa*t Survey. He
also systematized the mode of disposal of the pub-
lic lands. In 1813 he retired from the Cabinet to
take part with Adams and Clay in the negotia-
tions for peace with Great Britain.

From 1810 to 1823 he resided in Paris, as the
minister of the United States. In 1826 he was
appointed to similar office at the court of Great
Britain. His intercourse with both governments
was signalized by treaties and other measures of
great benefit to the United States.

In 1827 lie returned to his adopted country,
and resided for the remainder of his life in the
city of New York. Here he soon after his return
prepared the argument in behalf of the United
States, to he laid before the King of the Nether-
lands as umpire on the Maine boundary question.
An elaborate essay on the same subject appeared
from his pen in 1840. In 1831 Gallatin pub-
lished Considerations on the Currency and Bank-
ing System of the United States, in which he
reviewed the laws of paper money and the Bank-
ing system of the United States, with its metallic

494

CYCLOP.EDU OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

basis anil the suppression of small notes, as 'well
as the Constitutional powers of Congress, advo-
cating the advantages of a regulated Bank of the
United States. In 1838 he rendered an im-
portant service to the community by using his
influence in a convention of bank presidents, in
favor of a resumption of specie payments by
those institutions after the financial crisis of 1836.
The remainder of his life was principally occupied
by researches connected with the natural features,
production1!, and aboriginal literature of the coun-
try. His memory was remarkable, and the stores
of knowledge which his long life of close applica-
tion and observation had accumulated, were freely
bestowed on all to whom they could be of service.

He was elected President of the New York
Historical Society in 1S43, and notwithstanding
his great age, continued indefatigable in its duties
until his death. The year previously he was
mainly instrumental in founding and became the
first President of the Ethnological Society, which
has published in its collections his work on the
Semi-Civilized Nations of Mexico, Yucatan, and
Central America. This work, which reviews the
languages, numeration, calendar and astronomy,
history, and chronology of these countries, con-
tains also the author's modestly termed Conjec-
tures on the Origin of Semi-Civilization in Ameri-
ca, ill which lie refers the physical type to Asia,
and finds in the philological variations proof of a
distant antiquity. The use of the calendar and
of agriculture is philosophically ascribed to an
indigenous cultivation. The notes on Mexico
may be regarded as a sequel to the author's
Synapsis of the Indian Tribes within the United
States, East of the Roehy Mountains, and in the
British and Russian, Possessions in North Ameri-
ca, published in the second volume of Transac-
tions of the American Antiquarian Society, in
which a resume is given of extensive researches
in family classification and language, of which he
notes "the similarity of structure and grammati-
cal forms. The result appears to confirm the

opinions already entertained on the subject by
Mr. L>uPonceau, Mr. Pickering, and others ; and to
prove that all the languages, not only of our own
Indians, but of the native inhabitants of America
from the Arctic Ocean to Cape Horn, have, as
far as they have been investigated, a distinct
character common to all. and apparently differing
from any of those of the other continent with
which we are most familiar." His first essay on
this subject was undertaken in 1823 at the re-
quest of Alexander Von Humboldt, and by him
communicated to the geographer Balbi, who
noticed it with praise in the introduction to his
"Atlas Ethnographique." Gallatin pursued the
topic, obtaining vocabularies in 1825 and '0 from
Southern Indians visiting "Washington, making
inquiries in various quarters and assisted by
DuPonceau. In his latter years the zest and
enthusiasm, the pains-taking accuracy of detail
combined with the clear philosophical deduction
with which he occupied himself in these historic
and antiquarian themes, will long live in the
minds of those who witnessed this picture of a
learned and amiable old age worthy to lie esti-
mated by the eulogium of Cicero. The infusion
of a foreign accent which his speech retained, did
not lessen the charm of this earnestness and sim-
plicity as they were witnessed and always highly
honored in the monthly meetings, during his
Presidency, of the Historical Society.

Geography and its kindred ethnological topics
seem to have always excited Gallatin's interest.
On his arrival in Boston, a youth of nineteen,
Mr. Bartlett relates in his personal reminiscences,
one of his first acts was to ascend the roof of his
domicile. Here he descried the hills of Milton,
and the next day proceeded on foot with a tra-
velling friend to their summits. The horizon was
bounded by still higher eminences to the west,
and to these, in the vicinity of "Worcester, he
journeyed still on foot, in quest of an extended
view.

In 18-16, when the agitation of the north-west-
ern boundary difficulties with England seemed to
threaten hostilities, Gallatin published a pamphlet
on The Oregon. Question, in which he reviewed
the matter with impartiality, and urged the pro-
priety of a moderate course which would avoid
" the scandalous spectacle, perhaps not unwelcome
to some of the beholders, of an unnatural and an
unnecessary war." The argument was further
sustained by a practical appendix of War Expen-
ses, in which the veteran financier and political
economist drew from his old stores of government
experience with effect. He had occasion to re-
turn to this topic two years later, when he
summed up in a pamphlet the War Expenses of
the contest 'with Mexico, and further enforced his
pacific benevolent view in a tract in which he
surveyed the main conditions of the question,
which he entitled Pence with Mexico. This
pamphlet was mostly written out, at Mr. Gal-
latin's dictation, by his friend J. E. Bartlett.
More than one hundred and fifty thou-and copies
of it were distributed. It had its effect in direct-
ing public opinion and leading to an adjustment
of the conflict. The funds for printing this work
were raised by subscription. A few friends met
at his house nightly to devise means for printing
and distributing it.

RICHARD ALSOP.

495

Mr. Gallatin died at Astoria, in the vicinity of
New York, August 1 2, 184-9. No extended account
of his life has yet appeared. In the preparation of
the present sketch, we have heen indebted to a
biographical article in the Democratic Review for
June, 1843, from the pen of William Beach Law-
rence.

In person Mr. Gallatin was of medium height,
and in his latter years much bent by age. His
features were strongly marked, and his eye re-
tained to the last a piercing brilliancy.

EICHAED ALSOP.
This accomplished scholar and refined poetical
writer and wit was horn at Middletown, Con-
necticut, January 23, 1701. His father, a mer-
chant, died when the son was but five years old,
leaving him the eldest of eight children. He
entered Yale College, but did not graduate
there ; indeed his education seems to have been
of that kind among the continental languages of
Europe, which colleges then supplied inucb less
than now, when these interests are still neglected.
In after life he was familiarly acquainted witli
the Greek, Latin, French, Spanish, Italian, from
all which he made translations. A portion of his
Conquest of Scandinavia appears in the collection
of " American Poems" published at Litchfield in
1793, among the few new contributions to that
volume, five of which were written by him. A
translation from the poem of Silins Italicus was
among his earliest production". There are
among his unpublished MSS. translations from
the Italian of Monti, the French of Florian, and
the old Greek poem on the Trojan War of Quin-
tus Calaber.

At Hartford, in August, 17(11. among the wits
of that town, Alsop, in conjunction with his
friend Theodore Dwight, brother of Timothy,
wrote the first number of the series of papers,
" The Echo." It was published in the American
Mercury. With the exception of a few lines
written by Drs. Mason F. Cogswell and Elihu H.
Smith, and a part of. one or two numbers by Dr.
Lemuel Hopkins, the entire work was the pro-
duction of Messrs. Alsop and Dwight.*

The Echo has its title from the cast of these
productions, which are parodies or exaggerations
of newspaper narratives, popular addresses, go-
vernors' speeches and proclamations of the time,
which offered numerous specimens, with abun-
dant provocation for the witty treatment which
they received at the hands of the Hartford
wits.

The Echo caught the noise, fury, and rhodo-
montade of orators and the press, and resounded
them in louder measure. If a penny-a-liner grew
more maudlin and drunken in his style than
usual ; if an office-holder played Ids " fantastic
tricks," a politician vapored, or a scientific pre-
tender bored the public with his ignorance, or a
French democratic procession moved at the heels
of Genet, it was sure to be heard of from the
banks of the Connecticut. Metaphors, with poli-
tics, then ran high. As the Conservative party

* An exact account of this production is given in the Rev.
Charles W. Everest's Poets of Connecticut, p. 94; an always
interesting work, of sound judgment and careful preparation.
Trumbull, it appears, did not write any part of the Echo, as
often stated.

of the country, the Federalists had an advantage,
at least in the assumption of authority in the mat-
ter, for the force and talent employed being
equal, the entrenched party will always laugh
the loudest. What began in the Echo with the
mirthful travesty of a newspaper article, soon
rose to the bitter sarcasm of political controversy.
The democracy of the day supplied the motive.
In some of the eccentricities of John Hancock
there was enough ready material for amusement,
while the downright western humor of Bracken-
ridge offered more resistance to the treatment.
The naivete of the former invited ridicule, while
the intentional drollery of the other already occu-
pied the ground of satire. It is easy to ridicule a
fool, unconscious of his simplicity, but a rival
satirist is more difficult game. The New Eng-
land echo, however, with its strongly reverberat-
ing powers, receiving voices from all parts of the
country, was well worth listening to. It had,
too, a guarantee for a certain decorum in the ne-
cessities of verse. If it fell into railing, the
poetical Echo was at least bound to choice words
and harmonious numbers — though indifferent
enough at times to such refinements — while occa-
sionally the victims were under obligation to the
wits for embalming their nonsense.

In the twentieth and last number of the Echo,
published in the volume, there is a travesty of
Jefferson's Presidential Inaugural of 1805, which
illustrates the jaundiced view of politicians for
those days. There is nothing in the address
which challenges satire ; but as this " Echo" is
one of the most polished of these effusions, the
reader may be curious to see what was made of
the subject, and we have placed a portion of the
article among our extracts. The Jeffersonian
Gossip on the Indians is an amusing caricature.
The gentler pleasantry of the volume, it may be
presumed from the disposition shown in his other
writings, may be assigned to Alsop; the sharper
sarcasm to the severer pen of Theodore Dwight.
The book was helped along by a number of
comic designs by Tisdale, an artist who was

£.

496

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

also a clever illustrator of Trumbull's M'Fin-
gal*

To the Echo is appended, in the same volume,
A Poet ico-Polit ieal Olio, consisting of Extracts
from Democracy, an Epic Poem ; Green House,
and other New Year's Verses, which were politi-
cal satires of the same school.

In 1800 Alsop published A Poem to the Me-
mory of Washington ,t of which a few couplets
will show the temper : —

Though shone thy life a model bright of praise,

Not less the example bright thy death portrays ;

*******

In that dread moment awfully serene,

Ko trace of sufferii g mark'd thy placid mien ;

No groan, no murmuring plaint escaped thy tongue ;

No longing shadows o'er thy brow were hung :

But calm in Christian hope, undamp'd with fear,

Thou sawest the high reward of virtue near.

On that bright meed, in surest trust reposed,

Ab thy firm hand thine eyes expiring closed ;

Pleased, to the will of Heaven resign'd thy breath,

Andsmil'd, as nature's struggles closed in death.

In 1806, the Enchanted lake of the Fairy
Morgana appeared from his pen, in New York ;
a translation somewhat in the style of Mr. "Way
in his versions of the Fabliaux, from the second
book of the Orlando Inamorato of Francesco
Berni. The prose narrative in the notes, which
brings up the story, is written with ease and ele-
gance. The portion of the poem chosen for
translation is well adapted for separate narra-
tion ; and the evident care and pleasure with
which the chivalric adventures and imaginative
marvels are brought out, give piquancy to the
statement, that the author left an unpublished
poem, 77(6 Charms of Fancy, to the composition
of which Ins studies and genius naturally incited
him. This production, which is preserved among
the MSS. of the family, was written by Mr.
Alsop at an early age. It is in five books, in
good heroic measure, supported by ample notes
and illustrations from the writer's favorite stores
of reading among travellers and natural histo-
rians.

Its plan is a survey of the materials for the
exercise of fancy in the remote objects of history
or geography, the wonders and luxuries of Egypt,
China, and the East, and the newly navigated
regions of Polynesia. We may detect the influ-
ence of Darwin, who was then the fashionable
poet of the day, in his lines. In the opening of
one of the cantos ho pays the usual compliments
of the day to his brother bards in America. The
list was then a short one.

* Tisdale was a designer, engraver, and miniature painter.
He was a native of New England. Dunlap knew lain as a mi-
niature painter in New York, in 18C6. He removed to Hart-
ford and engaged in business with "The Graphic Company,"
engraving notes for tiie banks. He wrote a political satire,
which he illustrated, entitled '• The Gerrymander/' — Dunlap's
Arts of Design., ii. 45.

t A Poem : sacred to the Memory of George Washington,
late President of the United States, and Commander-in-chief
of the Armies of the United States. Adapted to the 22d
Feb., 1SII0. By P.ichard Alsop.

" Borne to distant lands thy deeds sublime

Shall brighten, as they mark the page of time;
And ages yet unborn, with glad acclaim,
Pronounce a Washington's illustrious name."

CnARMs of Fancy.
Hartford : Printed by Hudson and Goodwin. 1800.

E'en here, where late unknown to Culture's hand,
Thy glooms, Columbia ! spread the savage land,
O'er whose wild walks, whose unfrequented Bhade,
The Indian sole, rude Son of Nature, stray'd ;
Now cultur'd plains extend, and cities smile,
And polished manners grace the favour'd soil:
Begrim'd with blood where erst the savage fell,
Shrieked the wild war-whoop with infernal yell,
The Muses sing ; lo ! Trumbull wakes the lyre,
With all the fervor of poetic fire.
Superior poet I in whose classic strain,
In bright accordance wit and fancy reign;
Whose powers of genius, in their ample range,
Comprise each subject and each tuneful change,
Each charm of melody to Phoebus dear,
The grave, the gay, the tender, and severe.
Majestic I)wight, sublime in epic strain,
Paints the fierce horrors of the crimson'd plain;
And in Virgilian Barlow's tuneful lines,
With added splendor great Columbus shines.

George Washington is, of course, not forgotten —

And now, so long divergent from her way,
'Mid fairy realms and primal worlds to stray,
Allured, the Muse resumes her pristine theme,
And hangs delighted o'er Ohio's stream.
'Mid these fair scenes, array'd in summer's bloom,
Where wilds of fragrance breathe a glad perfume
And bright with every flower of richest hues,
One vast parterre each beauteous prairie shows;
Too oft in fatal strife the bloody plain
Has blushed, Columbia! with thy heroes slain,
While o'er their mangled forms the savage smil'd,
And songs of triumph shook the echoing wild.
Here, patriot chief! commene'd thy first essay,
The morning promise of thy glorious day!
What time the foe their fatal ambush spread,
And Britain yielded while her general bled:
Here first that martial genius shone display'd,
Destin'd in future time thy country's aid,
When stern injustice bade her gloomy band
In blood and ruin whelm the hapless land,
Oppression in his car exulting sate,
And Freedom trembled for Columbia's fate.
In thee thy country owns, with grateful pride,
Her shield in war, in peace her surest guide.
Long, generous patriot 1 may that country share
Thy prudent counsels and thy guardian care ;
Long happy in thy rule, in peace maintain
Those various blessings which she bled to gain.
While borne to distant lands, thy deeds sublime
Shall brighten as they mark the page of time,
And ages yet unborn, with glad acclaim.
Pronounce a Washington's illustrious name.

At the close of the poem he indulges in that
retrospect of fallen greatness celebrated by so
many poets, and which Ivirke White and Macau-
lay have anticipated as the fate of London ; but
when Bostonia and Philadelphia, a half century
ago, were the theme, the poet's imagination had
a double task to perform in creating the grandeur
to be destroyed : —

Thus, o'er these climes as bends my airy way,
Where Power, grim despot, sjireads his iron sway,
Where Desolation rears his baleful crest,
'Mid scenes in vain by lavish nature blest;
'Mid luxury's riot waste, where Famine reigns
And mouldering cities gloom the lonely plains;
While o'er their glories past pale Memory sighs,
What dreary prospects in idea rise!
Is this of realms the fate, the mournful end
To which must all inevitably tend !
Must each in turn lament the same sad doom,
By heaven prescribed for nations yet to come,

RICHARD ALSOP.

497

And as their fame has shone, their empire spread,
Misfortune o'er them roll her deepening shade 1
Ere long, perhaps, by barbarous rule opprest,
Shall Europe's realms this fatal truth atte3t;
Ere long, shall haply o'er her beauteous land
Stern Desolation wave his sterile wand ;
Her fairest plains to desert wastes be turn'd,
Her arts neglected, her refinements spurn'd,
While moss-grown walls and heaps of ruins rude
Shall mark the place where onee her cities stood:
Where gay Lutetia's splendid scenes are spread,
Shall the rank thistle wave its lonely head;
And London's domes, in wild destruction hurl'd,
Convey a future moral to the world.
Yon cities, too, in infant pride that rise,
And shine, Columbia! 'mid thy favor'd skies,
Some future day may see in dust o'erthrown,
With bramble shadow'd, and with brake o'ergrown;
Some future day, the traveller haply come
To view their ruins from his distant home,
From western shores with brilliant cities grac'd,
The seats of science, elegance, and taste,
Where now Alaska lifts her forests rude,
Or Nootka rolls its solitary flood ;
While o'er the spot, contemplative, he strays
Where Philadelphia caught the admiring gaze ;
'Slid ambient waves Y.ork's proud emporium shone,
Or fair Bostonia grac'd her eastern throne:
No peopled domes, no spires ascending high,
No scenes of culture please his pensive eye,
No human voice he hears — the desert plain
Knows but the whipperwill's funereal strain,
The hern's hoarse clang, or sea-gull's lonely cry,
Joiu'd with the moan of winds that sadly sigh
O'er many a shatter'd pile and broken stone
Of sculptur'd form in mournful unison:
Save, haply startled at the human tread,
From some gray tomb by withering fern o'erspread,
Slow rears the rattle-snake his glistening crest,
And fills with deathful sounds the dreary waste.

In 1808, Alsop published a translation of the
Geographical, Natural, and Civil History of
Chili, by the Abbe Molina, a native Chilian,
driven from his country on the expulsion of the
Jesuits, who took refuge with a portion of his
manuscripts in Italy, where his work appeared in
1787 and 1791. He is methodical and full of in-
teresting detail, likely to fall in with the studies
of Alsop, who executed his task with literary
neatness, and was at the pains to add an abstract
of Ercilla's epic, the Araucana, based on the
Spanish wars and the fortunes of the natives, —
made up from the notes and specimens published
by Hayley and the Rev. II. Boyd.*

Alsop was not a resident of New York, though
he spent much of his time there visiting his friend
Riley, the bookseller. He died suddenly of an
affection of the heart, August 20, 1815, at his
home at Flatbush, Long Island, where a monu-
ment in the village churchyard has been erected
to his memory.

Alsop was fond of field sports and of natural
history. His Long Island residence gave him op-
portunity for the former, while his love of the
science was shown in his cordial support of the

* Tho Geographical, Natural, and Civil Ilistory of Chili, by
Abbi Don J. Ignatius Molina. Illustrated by a half-sheet map
of the country, wilh notes from the Spanish and French ver-
sions, and an appendix, containing copious extracts from the
Araucana of Don Alonzo de Erciila. Translated from the
original Italian, by an American Gentleman. 2 vols. Svo.
Middletown (Conn.) : printed for J. Eiley, 1S0S.
VOL. I. — 32

ornithologist Wilson at Middletown, and his care
in preparing a collection of birds, which is still
preserved in the family, the neatness and dura-
bility of which prove him to have been an ac-
complished taxidermist. In New York he was
often to be seen at the book-store of Caritat in
the old City Hotel, and formed one, in those days
of more marked social distinction than the pre-
sent, of a society of which Kent, Dunlap, Wm.
Johnson, Brockden Brown, Mitchill, and the an-
tagonist of the Federal politics of the Echo,
Philip Freneau, were members.*

The youngest brother of Richard, John Alsop,
was a writer of verses, which lie. kept in manu-
script. The specimens published in Everest's
Poets of Connecticut are creditable to his taste and
cultivation. He was born at Middletown, Feb. 5,
1776. He was a pupil of Dr. Dwight, and at-
tended the law-school of Judge Reeve at Litch-
field, practised law at New London, and was
afterwards a bookseller at Hartford and at New
York. He passed the latter part of his life in
retirement at Middletown, where he died, Nov. 1,
1841. The following is from his pen: —

Soft slumbers now, with downy fingers, close
Th' o'erwearied eye of labour and of care;

Now nothing wakes to break night's deep repose,
But I who vainly strive to hush despair.

Slowly I wander through the sacred grounds,
The cold and lowly mansions of the dead ;

Beneath my steps the hollow earth resounds,
And moaning spectres near me, beckoning, tread.

Awful, unearthly feelings sway the soul,

As midnight throws her blackest horrors round ;

I hear afar the airy death-bell toll,

And faint, low waitings rising from the ground.

Here in this spot obscure she sleeps, I cry,
She, in whom all a woman's virtues shone; '

Unhonored here her mouldering relics lie,

Marked by the moss-grown, rudely-sculptured

stone.

0 thou ! who fondly o'er my cradle hung,
My little, tottering footsteps led with care,

My infant woes to sleep so often sung,

And watched o'er all my devious life with prayer!

Though grief, too late, now prompts the bitter tear,
That my wild follies caused thee many a pang,

Yet may thy guardian spirit, from its sphere,
Still o'er my paths with holy influence hang !

What though too oft, when friends in death repose.
Their memories vanish from the inconstant mind.

As o'er the wreck the whelming billows close,
And, ceaseless shifting, leave no trace behind —

Yet e'er for me shall memory's tablets bear,
Impressions deep that time can ne'er erase ;

The few slight stains of error disappear,
And all thy virtues brighter there I trace.

O'er her low grave, by all but me forgot,
Of her oblivious fate I thus complained;

Deplored her hapless death, my friendless lot,
And madly Heaven and its decrees arraigned.

With grief o'erpowered my languid frame reclined,
In the drear gloom, a parent's ashes near;

* We are indebted for theso personal reminiscences of Alsop
to Dr. Francis, who knew well the whole circle in which Alsop
moved.

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CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

A spirit moves upon the rustling wind,

And these low-breathed, these soothing sounds I
hear.

Enough for me, that, numbered with the dead,
At close of summer's day, when dews descend,

The simple stone that tells where I am laid,
May wake remembrance in some passing friend.

And though no more than this inglorious stone,

Of all life's anxious vanities remain,
Peace! dull oblivion hides not me alone,

But over bards and kings extends his reign.

Why sorrowest thou ? For me why this despair?

Could grief recall the tenant of the tomb,
Wouldst thou my mortal burden I should bear,

And quit for earth the blest ethereal dome ?
She ceased — and now, each fevered passion hushed,

No more my falling tears bedew her sod ;
But with new hopes, with sacred feelings flushed,

The soul holds pure communion with its God.
Now from the world remote, its woes, its ill,

A holy tranquil sorrow swaj's the breast,
Bids this poor heart's wild throbbing pulse be still,

And gives the calm of heaven's eternal rest.

A NEWSPAPER TI1UNDER STORM.*

Boston, July 14th, 1791.

On Tuesday last, about 4 o'clock p.m., came on a smart shower
of rain attended with lightning and thunder, no ways remark-
able. The clouds soon dissipated, and the appearance of the
azure vault left trivial hopes of further needful supplies from
the uncorked bottle* of heaven. Iu a few moments the horizon
was again overshadowed, and an almost impenetrable gloom
mantled the face of the skies. The wind frequently shifting
from one poiutto another, wafted the clouds in various direc-
tions, until at last they united in one common centre, and
shrouded the visible globe in thick darkness. The attendant
lightning, with the accompanying thunder, brought forth from
the treasures that embattled elements to awful conflict, were
extremely vivid, and amazing loud. Those buildings that
were defended by electric rods, appeared to be wrapped in
sheets of livid flame, and a flood of the pure fire rolled its
burning torrents down them with alarming violence. The
majestic roar of disploding thunders, now bursting with a sud-
den crash, and now wasting the rumbling j.ciio of their
sounds in other lands, added indescribable grandeurto the sub-
lime scene. The windows of the upper regions appeared as
thrown wide open, and the trembling cataract poured impetu-
ous down. More salutary showers, and more needed, have
not been experienced this summer. Several previous weeks
had exhibited a melancholy sight : the verdure of fields was
nearly destroyed; and the patient husbandman almost experi-
enced despair. Two beautiful rainbows, the one existing in its
native glories, and the other a splendid reflection of primitive
colours, closed the magnificent picture, and presented to the
contemplative mind, the angel of mercy, cloathcd with the
brilliance of this irradiated arch, and dispensing felicity to as-
sembled worlds.

It is not unnatural to expect that the thunder storm would
be attended with some damage. We hear a barn belonging to
Mr. Wythe of Cambridge, caught fire from the lightning,
which entirely consumed the same, together with several tons
of hay, &c.

nAETFORD, AUGUST 8, 1791.

" Those mighty tales which great events rehearse-,
To famewe consecrate in deathless versa /"

On Tuesday last great Sol, with piercing eye,
Pursued his journey thro' the vaulted sky,
And in his ear effulgent roll'd his way
Four hours beyond the burning zone of day ;
When lo ! a cloud, o'ershadowing all the plain,
From countless pores perspir'd a liquid rain,
While from its cracks the lightnings made a peep,
And chit-chat thunders roek'd our fears asleep.
But soon the vapoury fog dispers'd in air,
And left the azure blue-eyed concave bare :
Even the last drop of hope, which dripping skies
Gave for a moment to our straining eyes,
Like Boston Hum, from heaven's junk bottles broke,
Lost all the corks, and vanish'd into smoke.

* The Echo. No. I.

But swift from worlds unknown, a fresh supply
Of vapour dimm'd the great horizon's eye ;
The crazy clouds, by shifting zephyrs driven,
Wafted their courses through the high-arched heaven,
Till pil'd aloft in one stupendous heap,
The seen and unseen worlds grew dark, and nature

'gan to weep.
Attendant lightnings stream'd their tails afar,
And social thunders wak'd ethereal war,
From dark deep pockets brought their treasur'd store,
Embattled elements increased the roar, —
Red crinkling fires expended all their force,
And tumbling rumblings steer'd their headlong

course.
Those guarded frames by thunder poles* seeur'd,
Tho' wrapp'd in sheets of flame, those sheets endur'd,
O'er their b oad roofs the fiery torrents roll'd,
And every shingle seem'd of burning gold.
Majestic thu deis, with disploding roar,
And sudden crashing, boune'd along the shore,
Till, lost in o her hinds, the whispering sound
Fled from our ears and fainted on the ground.
Rain's house-)- on high its window sashes op'd,
And out the cataract impetuous hopp'd,
While the grand scene by far more grand appear'd
With lightnings never seen and thunders never
heard.
More salutary showers have not been known,
To wash dame Nature's dirty homespun gown —
For several weeks the good old Joan's been seen,
With filth bespatter'd like a lazy quean.
The husbandman fast travelling to despair,
Laid down his hoe and took his rocking chair,
i While his fat wife the well and cistern dried,
, Her mop grown useless hung it up and cry'd.
Two rain-bows fair that Iris brought along,
' Pick'd from the choicest of her color'd throng;
The first-born deck'd in pristine hues of light,
1 In all its native glories glowing bright,
i The next adorn'd with less refulgent rays,
! But borrowing lustre from its brother's blaze ;
! Shone a bright reflex of those colours gay
That deck'd with light creation's prinral day,
When infant Nature lisp'd her earliest notes,
And younher Adam crept in petticoats:
And to the people to reflection given,
! " The sons of Boston, the elect of heaven."
Presented Mci cy's Angel smiling fair,
Irradiate splendors frizzled in his hair,
Uncorking demijohns,^ and pouring down,
I Heaven's liquid blessings on the gaping town.
K.B. At Cambridge town, the self-same day,
A barn was burnt wcll-fill'd with hay.
Some say the lightning turned it red,
Some say the thunder struck it dead,
Some say it made the cattle stare,
And some it kill'd an aged mare ;
But we expect the truth to learn,
From Mr. Wythe, who own'd the barn.§

* Vulgarly lightning rods.

+ The old gentleman from whose cellar the junk bottles and
demi-johns were taken.

X Otherwise called demi-jars ; but the above is preferred as
the most elegant, being a species of the prosopopeia.

§ These pretentious narratives of the newspapers were
satirized in 18l 1 by Warren Dutton, a Yale College Poet, in
his Present State of Literature. This description of a launch,
suggested by a New York paper, has a prettily managad
simile: — ,

In conscious pride, the daughter of the wood,
Half pleas'd. tho' fearful, near old ocean stood;
The ocean's heir her beauteous features ey'd,
And much he wished to take her for his bride.
With coy reserve, and amorous delay,
She stops and looks, then glides along her way;
At length resolv'd, she nods, with peerless grace,
And rushes, blooming, to his fond embrace.
Dcnnie'B Portfolio, Jan. 17, 1801.

RICHARD ALSOP.

499

GOVERNOR HANCOCK'S MESSAGE ON STAGE PLAYS.*

From the Columbian Cenlinel of Nov. 10, 1792.
Concord, November S.

" Gentlemen of the Senate, and

" Gentlemen of the, Home of Representatives,

" I should for my own, as well as for your convenience, have
been glad to have met you at the ancient seat of our Govem-
meit; bat as it has pleased the Most High, to visit that, as
■well as many other of our towns, with a troublesome and con-
tagious disease, I have, with the advice of the Council, thought
it most for your safety and comfort to convene you at this
place.

"Gentlemen,

" I am urged, by sense of duty, to communicate to you my
mind upon a transaction, which I cannot but consider an an
open insult upon the Laws and Government of the common-
wealth.

"In the year one thousand seven huudred and fifty, the
legislature ol this then province of Massacfa isetts Bay, passed
an act. entitled, ' An Act to prevent Stage IJiays, and other
Theatrical Entcrtai intents.'

" The preamb.e uf the Act is in these words, ' For prevent-
ing and avoiding manygreat mischiefs, which arise from public
Stage Plays, Interludes, and other Theatrical Entertainments;
which not only occasion great and unnecessary expenses, and
discourage industry and frugality : but likewise tend generally
to increase immorality, impiety, and a contempt of religion.1

41 The act is now a law of the commonwealth; the principles
upon which it is predicated, have been recognised by, and de-
rived support from the consideration of several legislatures;
and surely it ought to claim the respect and obedience of all
persons who live or happen to be within the Commonwealth.
Vet a number of aliens and foreigners have lately entered the
Btate, and in the metropolis of the government, under adver-
tisements insulting to the habits and education of the citizens,
have been pleased to invite them to, and to exhibit before such
as attended, Stage Play*, Ini rind is, and Thatrieal Enter-
tain m aits, under the style and appellation of 'Moral Lectures.
This fact is so notorious, that it i> in vain to attempt a conceal-
ment of its coming to our knowledge.

'• Whether the Judicial Departments, whose business it is,
have attended to this subject or not, 1 am unable, to determine ;
but this I am convinced of. that no measures have been taken
to puni-h a most open breach of the laws, and a most contemp-
tuous insult upon tile powers of the government.

11 You, Gentlemen, are the guardians of the Commonwealth's
dignity and honour; and our fellow-citizens rely upon your
vigilance and wisdom, for the support of the sovereignty and
importance of the Government. I therefore refer this matter
to your determinations; and cannot but hope that your resolu-
tions and measures will give efficacy to the laws, and bo the
means of .bringing to condign punihrnent those who dare to
treat them with contempt or open opposition.11

Gentles, of either kind, both small and great,
Props of our laws, aud pillars of oar state;
Tito' words would fail, aud language* self prove weak,
My joy, in seeing yon once more, to speak;
While in this fleshly bottle closely pent,
So strong expression struggles for a vent,
Ere I can draw the cork, 1 fear, alas !
'Twill burst the frail contexture of my glass.
Yet, had this joy been even more complete
Could I have met you at our ancient Seat,
Near Faneuil Hall, to me for ever dear,
Where first I enter'd on my great career;
Whose walls, so soft, my presence bade rejoice,
Which oft in transport echoed to my voice,
When rose 'gainst Britain, its tremendous roar,
And shook her distant isle, from shore to shore ;
So when stern Jove, to vengeful anger driven,
Rolls the black tempest o'er the expanse of heaven,
Loud peals of thunder on the storm arise,
And the red lightning quivers o'er the skies;
From central depths disturb'd the Ocean raves,
And high to heaven upheaves his briny waves;
From its deep base the cloud-veil'd mountain shakes ;
The firm rock trembles, and the valley quakes ;
All nature, shuddering, owns the dreadful nod,
And shrinks before the terrors of the God.
There Freedom, then a chick, unfledg'd and bare,
/kindly brooded with a mother's care;
Taught her to creep, to hop, to run, to' fly,

* The Echo. No. IX.

And gave her wings to lift herself on high,
'Till perfect grown, she came, at length, to soar
-To heights uuthotight of, but by me, before.
In that loved spot, 0 could you but have met !
" But fate denies, and man must yield to fate ;"
Since the Small-pox, Death's Vicar here on earth,
Who, stern, respects nor dignities, nor worth,
O'er that sad place, now sunk in dire dismay,
Waves his pale banners, and extends his sway,
Wide pours contagious poison from his breath,
Deforms the face, and shuts the eyes in death,
And still uncheek'd, his grisly triumph leads,
Nor votes regards, nor resolutions heeds ;
Those votes, by which, that man of patriot soul
Who o'er Town-Meetings held unmatch'd controul,
Far-fam'd Sam Adams thought to fright away,
This curst disease, for ever, and for aye:
Therefore it is, by heaven's peculiar grace,
That I've tin 'light fit to call you to this place.

But Gentlemen ! a thing unmention'd yet,
Enough to throw you in a dog-day sweat ;
A thing, perchance, which you, as well as /,
Have seen, some time, with many an aching eye;
Since, above measure bold, it scorns disguise ;
And proudly stares us in the face and eyes;
A thing, most vile, most dreadful in its kind,
Hangs, like a mill-stone, heavy on my mind;
By conscience urged, in duty's cause made bold,
To you this wicked thing I shall unfold,
Since plain enough to me is its intent,
An open insult on my government

Long since, while Britain with maternal hand,
Cheer'd the lov'd offspring of Columbia's land;
Ere prond oppression bade that offspring brave
Assert their rights, and scorn the name of slave,
Ere o'er the world had flown my mob-rais'd fame,
And George and Britain trembled ntrny name;
This State, then Province, pass'd with wise intent,
An Act, Stage-Plays, aud such things to prevent:
You'll find it, sirs, among the Laws sky blue,
Made near that time on brooms when Witches flew,
That blessed time when Law kept wide awake,
Proscribed the faithless, and made Quakers quake;
And thus, in terms sublime /state the fact,
Runs the Preamble of this precious Act.

Both for preventing, and avoiding, all
Those various evils which would sure befall
Our sober people, and their sober ways,
From Interludes, and vile Theatric Plays ;
To wit, all fiddling, fighting, gaming, raking,
Swearing profane, high broils, and sabbath breaking ;

This Act, so full of wisdom and so good,
Has now become a Law well understood ;
Since it has often been confirm'd, you see,
By many a Legislature great as we.
Yet, notwithstanding this, some chaps uncivil,
Grand emissaries of our foe the Devil,
Aliens, and Foreigners, and Actors funny,
Who less esteem our morals than our money;
Even in our holy Capital of late,
Have dared insult the majesty of state,
Ami to exhibit publicly, propose,
Stage-Plays, and Interludes, and Heathen Shows;
Which, in the garb of Moral Lectures drest,
Uf our good, sober manners make ajest.
Vet so obnoxious to the people's notions,
So strange, so foreign to their constitutions,
That well /am convinced they never go,
From motives of amusement, to the Show ;
But, like good, honest folks, with mere intent,
To keep these Actors under some restraint.
Judge, Gentlemen ! my feelings, when at first,
This information on my ear-drum burst:
Not. more was Israel's hapless King appall'd,
When Endor's witch the ghost of Samuel call'd,

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CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

And, slowly rising from the shades of night,
The frowning spectre met his startled sight.
Not more bold Elderkin with terror shook,
Not more dismay was pictured in his look,
When Windham's Sons, at midnight's awful hour
Heard from afar, the hoarse discordant roar,
Of Bull-Frog sorrow groaning on the wind,
Denouncing death and ruin to mankind;
While one supposed the tawny Myriads near,
And heard their War-whoops thunder in his ear:
Another thought Old Nick was sure a coming,
Since none but Belial's bands could make such drum-
ming;
Vet each, prepar'd, his proper weapon took,
While one his bible hugg'd, and one his musket

shook.*
Wild consternation on my visage hung,
Congeal'd my blood, and every nerve unstrung ;
O'er my whole frame a palsying horror flew,
And sense, retiring, bade a long adieu.
So Cain, the fratricide, when deep disgrace
Fix'd its black brand upon his guilty face,
Fled from the crime of brother Abel's blood,
And took lone lodgings in the Land of Nod.

Whether the magistrates all this have known
I do not know ; but this I know, that none
Have taken care, whatever their intent,
These fellows' pranks, and postures, to prevent ;
Ne'er have laid hold of thein witli law's strong

hand,
And fairly brought the scoundrels to a stand,
Nor to the whipping-post the rogues have tied,
Where oft cash-pay is chang'd to pay in hide.
With joy extreme, 0 gentlemen ! in you
The firm upholders of the laws I view,
On you devolves the task (I grant it great),
To keep unstain'd the chasteness of our State:
Since that good lady is beset so sore
By rakes and libertines full many a score,
That much 1 fear me, do whate'er you can,
She'll be debauch'd by that unrighteous clan.
But this at least I hope, that, if unable
To keep with all your might, her virtue stable,
You will not fail to show this wicked sect,
You know to punish, though you can't protect ;
And whate'er punishment you shall devise,
As to your noble judgments seemeth wise;
Whether you burn, drown, knock them on the head,
Or hang them by the neck, 'till dead, dead, dead —
Or with a neighbour State, so very tender,
Loth to extend the neck of an offender,
Prefer the hanging business to commute
For private prayers and some small goods\ to boot —
I hope a great example it will stand,
And in terroreni guard our pious land.

* For a particular account of this remarkable occurrence, ex-
tracted from Peters's History of Connecticut, see ante, p. 192.
It has been also he subject of two pleasant ballads, which will
bo found in M'Carty's Collection and Barber's Historical Col-
lections of Connecticut. The former commences —

When these free states were colonies

Unto the mother nation ;
And, i i Connecticut, the good

Old Blue Laws were in fashion.

A circumstance which there oecurr'd,

(And much the mind surprises
Upon reflection.) tiiere gave rise

To many strange surmises.

In the second it is turned at the expense of the lawyers, who
were suddenly brought to repentai ce by ;he fright.

+ For an explanation of the above, vide the Archives of Con-
necticut, wherein it may be found that on a certain occasion
of commutative justice, the sheriif was directed to furnish the
criminal with the consolation of his prayers.

JEFFEESON'S INAUGURAL. — INDIAN AMELIORATIONS. 1805.*

Among the deeds economy has wrought,'
High rank the num'rous tracts of hind we've bought:
Our country's limits constantly extend
O'er boundless wilds and rivers without end,
Nations are bargain'd for by sleight of hand,
We soon shall purchase old Van Diemen's land,
Beyond Cape Horn our speculations roll,
" And all be our's around the Southern pole."
What though no boundary to our views are set,
And every bargain swells the public debt,
Unlike all other modes of gaining pelf,
Before we're sued this debt will pay itself.
And though our title deeds, by strange mischance,
Instead of Spain are sign'd and seal'd by France,
The limits too, not definitely fix'd,
Lie somewhere this and t'other world betwixt,
For fear some quarrel should hereafter rise
We've given our obligations for the price.
I grant some minds, of weak aud fearful mould,
Instead of buying think we'd better sold,
Lest first or last, by some unseen mishap,
So greatly streteh'd, our union cord should snap—
'Tis true, indeed, a leather string will break
If streteh'd too far ; but much do I mistake
If ever mortal broke a string of leather
By tying first a dozen strings together.
And can it be that as we larger grow
At the same moment we grow smaller too ?
This does not quadrate with dame nature's course ;
She gives to pigmies weakness, giants force;
The mighty Mammoth stronger is by half
Than the slim stag, the bullock than the calf.
Thus should this great Republic once expaud
From shore to shore and cover every land,
In like proportion would our strength abide,
And we could manage all the world beside.

And when our children leave our fost'ring arms,
And roam the western wilderness for farms,
On banks remote to see them peaceful toil,
Lords of the stream, and masters of the soil,
Is better far than on the self-same place
To meet with squattersf of a different race,
With whom, perhaps, possess'd of better right,
We cannot get along unless we fight.

Oft have the dark-skinn'd natives of the wild
Our tenderest thoughts engag'd, our love beguil'd ;
At their sad story oft we've felt our breast
With soft compassion's throbbing pangs opprest,
That story sad, by fiction's hand adorn'd,
Where hapless Logan for his offspring mourn'd4
What time, by cruel Cresap's murd'rous knife,
Poor Squaw and Poppoose both were reft of life.
Long since we've prov'd from philosophic ken,
The squaws are women and their sanaps men ;
Though, far unlike our European race,
No bristly beards their polish'd chins disgrace,
O'er their smooth frames no hairs unseemly spread,
Nor aught displays that covering but the head,
Yet nature prompts them with the same desires,
And with like feelings aud like passions fires.

When, fresh from Sov'reign Nature's plastic hand,
Shone in the bloom of youth this blissful land,
Good, simple, harmless, nor with blood defil'd,
Liv'd the poor Indian 'mid the desert wild.
Close by some crystal stream his wigwam stood,
The skins of deer his dress, their flesh his food ;
Few were his wants, and his desires but few,

* The Echo. No. XX.

T Persons who settle on vacant lands in the wilderness, with-
out title, and who are with much difficulty removed.

X For this story, sec Notes on Virginia, aud for its authenti-
city, the letters of Luther Martin, Esq.

RICHARD ALSOP.

501

No bliss beyond his pipe and squaw he knew,
Small as his wants his homely household gear
Inspired, from nightly theft, no cause of fear,
With various hues his deer-skin mantle dyed,
By night his covering, and by day hio pride,
A pot of stone, his succotash* to boil,
A huge samp-mortar, wrought with patient toil,
These were his riches, these his simple store,
And having these he sought for nothing more : —
Thus liv'd he blest, what time from Cambria's strand,
Advent'rous Madoe sought this unknown laud.
With swords and bibles arm'd the Welsh appear, f
Their faith to 'stablish and their empire rear ;
Struck with surprise the simple savage sees
The pictur'd dragon waving in the breeze,
Hears with delight the harp's wild music play,
As sweet the strings respond to Gryffidd's lay ;
But when th' advancing squadrons forward move,
Their arms bright gleaming 'mid the dusky grove,
Joy yields to fear, as now, approaching nigh,
Their dress and uncouth features meet his eye; —
And when their barb'rous Celtic sounds he hears,
That grate discordant on his tender ears,
Fill'd with wild tenor from the scene he scuds,
And seeks retreat amidst impervious woods,
While, in pursuit, behind th' affrighted man
" The o'erflowing stream of population ran."
His wigwam swept away, his patch of corn,
Before the fury of the torrent borne;
Drove him from wood to wood, from place to place,
And now for hunting leaves him little space.

Then since, beneath this widely-spreading tide,
Sunk are the grounds that Indian wants supplied,
Few are their deer, their buffaloes are dead,
Or o'er the lakes with mighty Mammoth fled ;
Humanity has whisper'd in our ear,
Whose dictates ever have we held most dear,
To teach them how to spin, to sew, to knit,
And for their stockings manufacture feet,
Since by their " energies' exertions" sole
Can they e'er figure on Existence roll.
We therefore liberally to them have sent
Such household matters as for use are meant,
Pots, kettles, trenchers, dripping-pans, whate'er
Their kitchens lack, their victuals to prepare,
And with them skilful men to teach them how
To still their whisky, their tobacco grow ; —
While, to secure them from domestic harm,
We've lifted o'er them, with our thundering arm,
The law's broad E;/is, under which as still
And safe they lie " as thieves within a mill."
But vain th' attempt to this Imperial Day,
To light their dusky souls with reason's ray,
To make them quit their guns and scalping knives,
And stay at home contented with their wives ;
Most powerful obstacles this scheme prevent,
Thwart my fine plans, and frustrate my intent: —
Firstly their bodies' habits different are,
And different med'eine claim, and different care,
No neutral mixture will fur them suffice
Of gentle acids and mild alkalies ;
But powerful Blood-root, Oil of Rattlesnake,
Jerusalem Oak, and Gum of Haemetac.
Nor simple blood-lettings their pains assuage,

* The Indian name for the mixture of Indian corn, or maize,
with beans.

t One of these very Bibles is said to have been discovered,
not many years since, in the possession of the Welsh Indians,
who have excited so much curiosity, and who preserved with
a sanctimonious reverence this relict of their ancestors, al-
though they were unable to read it, and ignorant of its use.
It is to be hoped that the gentleman appointed by the Presi-
dent to explore the western part of this Continent may, in his
researches, be so fortunate as to fall in with this tribe, and ob-
tain from them this curious and invaluable deposit.

Warm their cold chills, and quell their fever's rage,
Meaus far more potent their tough frames require,
And the free use of lancets and of fire.
Besides as ne'er the Indian's chin appears
Mark'd with a beard, howe'er mature his years,
Of course no barber's hand, with razor keen,
No barber's pole amidst the tribes are seen. —
Great marts of knowledge, form'd the world to bless.
i The seats of scandal, polities and dress !
1 From barbers' shops what benefits we trace ?
j How great their 'vantage to the human race?

That source of civil culture unpossess'd,
] What wonder reason slowly fills the breast ?
| Thou knight renown'd ! possess'd of equal skill
The comb to flourish, or to ply the quill.
Whose bright effusions, wondring, oft I see,
And own myself in message beat by thee,
0 would'st thou, Hucuins,* to the Indians go,
And on their chins give mighty beards to grow,
Soon should thy shop o'er all their wigwams rise,
And painted pole attract their curious eyes,
While the glad tribes would thither thick repair,
And claim in turn the honours of thy chair.
Methinks amid the newly-bearded band,
With brush and lather arm'd, I see thee stand,
And as each visage gleams with foamy white,
And wields thy dexter hand the razor bright,
Thy eloquence pervades, refines the whole ;
And pours the beams of reason o'er their soul,
While white-wigg'd savages, with loud acclaim,
Thee as the People's Friend, and President shall
name.
Thrice happy time ; when, freed from Error's
night,
Reason's broad beam shall shed her mid-day light,
O'er realms regenerate ope unbouuded day,
And bless the Indians with its brightest ray,
Drive the thick mist from their bewildered eyes,
Give them their former habits to despise,
While they partakers of our equal right,
In civic feasts and whiskey shall delight.
But much we doubt that ne'er within our reign,
Will Indian manners such refinement gain ;
For ah! among them live some crafty dogs,
Change-haters, anti-philosophic rogues,
Chaps who, though something, are of nothing made,
Mere forms of air and phantoms of the shade ;
Who say 'tis better in the ancient way
Safe to go on, than in new paths to stray,
Where bogs and precipices lurk beneath,
And ignes fotui point the way to death,
That civic feasts with Indians suit but ill,
And rum and whiskey are contriv'd to kill,
That wdiat the whites the light of reason call
Is but another name for cheating all,

* Earbe.r Huggins, at the beginning of the century, afforded
much amusement in New York by the parodies and fanciful
flights of his professional advertisements, in the Evening Post,
Morning Chronicle, and other papers, which were generally
written with considerable cleverness. They were collected
into an entertaining volume in 1808, with the following title :
" Hugginiana or Huggins' Fantasy, being a collection of the
most esteemed modern literary productions, exposing the art
of making a noise in the world, without beating a drum'or
crying oysters; and showing how, like wliittington of old,
who rose from nothing to be Lord Mayor of London, a mere
Barber may become an Emperor, if he has but spirit enough
to assume, and talents enough to support the title. By John
Richard Desborus Huggios, Empcreur du Friseurs, Boi du
Barbieres, &c, &c. Trifles, light as air. — Siiaksi>eare. New
York : Printed by H. C. Soulhwiek. No. 2 Wall street, Most
Excellent Printer to his most Barber-ous majesty.1' Huggins
was the butt of the town, and doubtless turned his notoriety
to profitable account. His business advertisements, mixed up
with the politics and small humors of the day, supplied a
vehicle for the wits to pass their squibs to the public. Paro-
dies of the imperial proclamations of Buonaparte by the
Emperor of Barbers were among the best of them.

502

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

And that by equal right is meant, 'tis plain,
The right by force or fraud whate'er they list to gain.
Thus like the Feds, to reason they pretend,
Suspect our motives, and decry our end.

Where action too with counteraction jars,
And wild misrule 'gainst order fiercely wars,
Anti-philosophers with scorn reject
Th' ealighfuing doctrines of our favour' d Bed, ;
Bigots of mouldy creeds, that long ago
The Goddess Reason taught were idle show,
Their superstitious whims and habits hold,
Reject the new and cleave unto the old :
In vain reform in Gallic mantle drest,
Unbinds her zone, and wooes them to her breast,
And innovation's meretricious smile
Attempts their rigid firmness to beguile.
Strange that such prejudice in chains should bi:.d
In our enlighten'd days the human kind !
Fools must they be, by dulness sure possess'd,
In their old way contented to be blest,
"When novelty, with all-alluring charms
Of untried systems, lures them to her arms.

SUSANNA EOWSON,

The author of the popular little romance of Char-
lotte Temple, of many books of greater labor and
of less fame, and of the lyric of America, C 'ommeree,
and Freedom, was born about the year 1762.
Her father was "William Haswell, a British naval
officer, who in 1709 was wrecked in company with
his daughter on Lovell's Island, on the New Eng-
land coast, after which they settled at Nantasket,
where the father, a widower, married again, and
whence he was compelled to depart, as a British sub-
ject, on the breaking out of the Revolutionary war.

His daughter appears to have followed him to
London, where in 1786 she married William
Kowson, leader of the band attached to the
Royal Guards in London* Her first work was
published the same year, a novel, entitled Victo-
ria ; followed by Mary, or the Taut of Honor, the
matter of which was partly put into her hands
by the bookseller ; A Trip to Parnassus, a Cri-
tique on Authors and Performers, Fille de Chcun-
bre, the Inquisitor, or Invisible Rambler, Mcnto-
ria, and Charlotte Temple. Of the latter twenty-
five thousand copies were sold in a few years. It
is a tale of seduction, the story of a young girl
brought over to America by a British officer and
deserted, and being written in a melodramatic
style lias drawn tears from the public freely as
any similar production on the stage. It is. still a
popular classic at the cheap book-stalls and with
travelling chapmen. The Inquisitor is avowedly
modelled on Sterne, and the honest heart of the
writer has doubtless a superior sensibility, though
the sharp wit and knowledge of the world of the
original are not feminine qualities, and are not to
be looked for from a female pen.

In 1793 Mrs. Rowson came with her husband
to America, under an engagement with Wignell,
the manager of the Philadelphia theatre. She had
appeared in England in the provincial theatres,
and was successful in light comedy and musical
pieces. While engaged on the stage in America she
wrote The Trials of the Heart, a novel ; Slates in
Algiers, an opera; The Volunteers, a farce found-

* Buckingham, in his Personal Memoirs, speaks of " the
sublime and spirit-stirring tones of tiiis gentleman's trumpet,
when lie played for the Boston Handel and Haydn Society, the
accompaniment to the air in the Messiah, 'The trumpet shall
bound and the dead shall be raised.1 "

ed on the whiskey insurrection in Pennsylvania ;
and another farce, The Female Patriot. While
at Baltimore in 1795, she wrote a poetical ad-
dress to the armies of the United States, which
she entitled The Standard of Liberty, and which
was recited on the stage by Mrs. Whitloek before
the military companies of the city. The bird of
Jove, after attending the fortunes of ./Eneas and
the Latins, is made to descend on the shores of
Columbia, where the eagle becomes the standard
of virtue and freedom. The next year she ap-
peared with her husband at the Federal Street
Theatre, in Boston, for a single season, during
which she wrote a comedy, Americans in Eng-
land, which was asted for her benefit and fare-
well of the stage. She then opened a school at
Modford, afterwards at Newton, and subsequently
at Boston. Her industrious pen meanwhile was
not idle. In 1798 she published, in Boston, Reu-
ben and Rachel, or Tales of Old Tin.es, the scene
of which was laid in Maine. In 1804 her Mis-
cellaneous Poems appeared, by subscription, as
usual. She appears on the title-page "Precep-
tress of the Ladies' Academy, Newton, Mass."
The chief contents of the volume are The Birth
of Genius, an Irregular Poem.; Birth-day Ode
to John Adams, 1799 ; Eulogy to the Memory of
Washington ; Maria, not a Fiction, a ballad of
the Charlotte Temple material ; occasional ver es,
and some translations from Virgil and Horace.
They are for the most part echoes of English
verse, occasionally imperfect, but mainly expres-
sive of the generous woman's heart. A lew bois-
terous songs, of a mannish order, may be set
down to her theatrical life, ai.d may he c. nsidcred
as a healthy support of her sentimental writing.
The Choice, though one'of the numerous imita-
tions of Pomfret, may be taken as suggestive of
the character of the writer. Her poem on the
Rights of Woman shows her to have had but
moderate ideas on that subject compared with
some urged at the present day. A single verse,
the first of a little poem entitled Ajjection, is
proof sufficient of her gentle nature, and the feli-
citous expression which she sometimes achieved.

Mrs. Rowson also compiled several educational
works, a Dictionary, two Systems of Geography,
and Historical Exercises. She was al>o a contri-
butor to the Boston Weekly Magazine. Her last
distinct publication appears to have been in 1822,
the two volumes entitled, Biblical Dialogues
between a Father and his Family : con.prising
Sacred History from the Ci eat ion to the Heath
of our Saviour Christ, the Lhes of the Apos-
tles, the Reformation, &c. Mr. and Mrs. Al-
worth, in this book, living on the Connecticut,
communicate in a series of conversations with
their five children a variety of sacred information,
derived from the works of Stackhouse, Poole,
Prideaux, Calvert, and others. In the preface
Mrs. Rowson professes herself attached to the
tenets of the Protestant Episcopal Church, and
states that she " has been engaged for the last
twenty-five years in the instruction of young per-
sons of her own sex." The style of the work is
smooth and fluent.

Mrs. Rowson died in Boston, March 2, 182L*

* Ad Obituary article in the Boston Gazette, repiinted in
the Appendix to Aluoies Historical Collections lor 1S24

SUSANNA ROWSON.

503

AFFECTION.

Touch'd by the magie hand of those we love,

A trifle will of consequence appeal' ;
A fiow'r, a blade of grass, a pin, a glove,

A scrap of paper will become most dear.

And is that being happy, whose cold heart
Feels not, nor comprehends this source of joy?

To whom a trifle can 110 bliss impart,

Who throw them careless by, deface, destroy i

Yes, they are happy; if the insensate rocks
Which the rude ocean beats, or softly laves,

Rejoice that they are mov'd not by the shocks,
Which hurl full many to untimely graves.

Yes, they are happy ; if the polish'd gem,
On which the sun in varied colours plays,

Rejoices that its lustre comes from him,
And glows delighted to reflect his rays.

Not else. — Though hearts so exquisitely form'd,
Feel misery a thousand differe.it ways ;

Yet when by love or friendship's power warm'd,
One look, whole days of misery repays.

One look, one word, one kind endearing smile,
Can from the mind each painful image blot:

The voice we love to hear can pain beguile,
List'uing the world beside is all foi'got.

Tho' sharp the pang which friendship slighted gives,
Tho' to the eye a tear may force its way ;

The cause remov'd when hope again revives,

Light beats the heart, and cheerful smiles the day.

True, when we're fore'd to part from those we love,
"lis like the pang when soul and body's riven ;

But when we meet, the spirit soars above,
And tastes the exquisite delights of heaven.

Mine be the feeling he:irt: for who would fear
To pass the dreary vale of death's abode,

If certain, at the end, they should be near
And feel the smile of a benignant God ?

stay ;
Say, where are the wings, with which poets adorn
thee?
Sure 'twas some happy being, who ne'er was away
From the friend he most lov'd, and who wish'd to
have shorn thee,
First drew thee with pinions ; for had he e'er known

A long separation, so slow dost thou move,
He'd have pictured thee lame, and with fetters bound
down ;
So tedious is absence to friendship and love.

I am sure thou'rt a cheat, for I often have woo'd
thee
To tarry, when blest with the friend of my heart:
But you vanish'd with speed, tho' I eager pursued
thee,
Entreating thee not in such haste to depart.
Then, wretch, thou wert deaf, nor wouldst hear my
petition.
But borrow'd the wings of a sparrow or dove ;
And now, when I wish thee to take thy dismission
Till those hours shall return, thou refusest to
move.

The primrose gay, the snowdrop pale,
The lily blooming in the vale,
Too fragile, or too fair to last,
Wither beneath th' untimely blast,

Or rudely falling shower ;

No more a sweet perfume they shed,
Their fragrance lost, their beauty fled,

They can revive no more.
So hapless woman's wounded name,
If Malice seize the trump of fame ;
Or Envy should her poison shed
Upon the unprotected head

Of some forsaken maid ;
Tho' pity may her fate deplore,
Her virtues sink to rise no more,

From dark oblivion's shade.

THE CHOICE.

I ask no more than just to be

From vice and folly wholly free ;

To have a competent estate,

Neither too small, nor yet too great;

Something of rent and taxes clear,

About five hundred pounds a year.

My house, though small, should be complete,

Furnished, not elega.it, but neat;

One little room should sacred be

To study, solitude, and me.

The windows, jessamine should shade,

Nor should a sound the ears invade,

Except the warblings from a grove,

Or plaintive murm'ri; gs of the dove.

Here would I often pass the day,

Turn o'er the page, or tune the lay,

And court the aid and sacred (ire

Of the Parnassian tuneful choir.

While calmly thus my time I'd spend,

Grant me, kind Heaven, a faithful friend.

In each emotion of my heart,

Of grief orjoy, to bear a part ;

Possess'd of learning, and good sense,

Free from pedantic insolence.

Pleas'd with retirement let him be,

Yet cheerful, midst society ;

Know how to trifle with a grace,

Yet grave in proper time and place.

Let frugal plenty deck my board,
So that its surplus may afford
Assistance to the neighb'ring poor,
And send them thankful from the door.
A few associates I'd select,
Worthy esteem and high respect ;
And social mirth I would invite,
With sportive dance on tiptoe light;
Nor should sweet music's voice be mute,
The vocal strain, or plaintive lute;
But all, and each, in turn agree,
T' afford life sweet variety ;
To keep serene the cheerful breast,
And give to solitude a zest.

And often be it our employ,

For there is not a purer joy,

To wipe the la guid grief-swoln eye,

To sooth the pensive mourner's sigh,

To calm their fears, allay their grief,

And give, if possible, relief.

But if this fate, directing Heaven
Thinks too indulgent to be given,
Let health and innocence be mine,
And I will strive not to repine;
Will thankful take each blessing lent,
Be humble, patient, and content.

THE INDEPENDENT FAH1SIER.

When the bonny grey morning just peeps from the
skies,
And the lark mounting, tunes her sweet lay ;

504

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

With a mind unincumbered by care I arise,
My spirits, light, airy, and gay.

I take up my gun ; honest Tray, my good friend,
Wags his tail and jumps sportively round ;

To the woods then together our footsteps we bend,
Tis there health and pleasure are found.

I snuff the fresh air ; bid defiance to care,

As happy as mortal can be ;
From the toils of the great, ambition and state,

Tis my pride and my boast to be free.

At noon, I delighted range o'er the rich soil,

And nature's rough children regale:
With a cup of good h.ome-brew'd I sweeten their
toil,"

And laugh at the joke or the tale.

And whether the ripe waving corn I behold,
Or the innocent flock meet my sight ;

Or the orchard, whose fruit is just turning to gold,
Still, still health and pleasure unite.

I snuff the fresh air ; bid defiance to care,

As happy as mortal can be ;
From the toils of the great, ambition and state,

'Tis my pride and my boast to be free.

At night to my lowly roof d cot I return,
When oh, what new sources of bliss ;

My children rush out, while their little hearts burn,
Each striving to gain the first kiss.

My Dolly appeal's with a smile on her face,

Good humour presides at our board ;
What more than health, plenty, good humour, and
peace,

Can the wealth of the Indies afford ?

I sink into rest, with content in my breast,

As happy as mortal can be ;
From the toils of the great, ambition and state,

Tis my pride and my boast to be free.

AMERICA, C0M3TEECE, AND FBEEDOM.

How blest a life a sailor leads,

From clime to clime still ranging ;
For as the calm the storm succeeds,

The scene delights by changing.
When tempests howl along the main,

Some object will remind us,
And cheer with hopes to meet again
Those friends we've left behind us.
Then under snug sail, we laugh at the gale,

And tho' landsmen look pale, never heed 'em;
But toss off a glass, to a favourite lass,
To America, Commerce, and Freedom.

And when arrived in sight of land,

Or safe in port rejoicing,
Our ship we moor, our sails we hand

Whilst out the boat is hoisting.
With eager haste the shore we reach,

Our friends, delighted, greet us ;
And, tripping lightly o'er the beaeh,
The pretty lasses meet us.
When the full flowing bowl has enliven'd the soul,

To foot it we merrily lead 'em,
And each bonny lass will drink off a glass,
To America, Commerce, and Freedom,

Our cargo sold, the chink we share,

And gladly we receive it;
And if we meet a brother Tar,

Who wants, we freely give it.
No free born sailor 3'et had store,

But cheerfully would lend it ;

And when 'tis gone, to sea for more,
We earn it, but to spend it.
Then drink round, my boys, 'tis the first of our joys,

To relieve the distress'd, clothe and feed 'em >
"Tis a task which we share, with the brave and the
fair,
In this land of Commerce and Freedom.

TABITHA TENNEY.
Mrs. Tabitha Tenxey, the author of the popular
Adventures of Doreadna Sheldon, was born at
Exeter, if. H., in 1762. She was the daughter
of Samuel Gihnan, whose paternal ancestors con-
stituted a great part of the community of that
place. Her father died in her infancy, and she
was left to the sole care of her pious and sensible
mother, who was a descendant of the Puritan
stock of Robinson, which also composed a large
portion of the early population of the town of
Exeter. As female education at that time was
very circumscribed, she had but few early ad-
vantages excepting those which she received from
her mother's excellent example of industry and
economy, and the few well chosen books which
she selected for her daughter's improvement.

Books and literary companionship were her
greatest delight. She acqulfcgd a facility and cor-
rectness of language which gave her noticeable
freedom and elegance in conversation.

In 1788 she was married to the Hon. Samuel
Tenney, then a resident in Exeter, and formerly
a Surgeon in the American army during the Re-
volutionary war. He was elected a member of
Congress in 1800. She accompanied her hus-
band to Washington several winters, and her let-
ters from that place are specimens of her talent
at graphic description, as well as illustrative of
the fashion and manners of the times.

Her first publication was a selection from the
poets and other cla-sical writers, for the use of
young ladies, entitled the New Pleasing Instruc-
tor. Some time after this she produced her ro- .
mance of Female Quixotism* This is, as its title
implies, one of the numerous literary progeny of
Cervantes' immortal satire. It resembles in one
respect more closely its original than most of its
family, turning like Don Quixote on the evils of
reading romances. In place, however, of the lean-
vizored Don, we have a blooming, delicate young
lady ; and to continue the contrast, in exchange
for the ponderous folios, in which even the light
literature of those ages of learning was entr imbed,
have the small volume novels of the Rosa-Matilda
school of the past century, the vapid sentimental
stuff which is now driven even from the book-
stalls. Dorcas Sheldon is the only daughter of a
wealthy father, and soon after her birth loses her
mother. Left by a fond father to follow her own
wishes she takes to reading novels, and so satu-
rates her mind with their wishy-washy contents,
that she determines herself to be a heroine. Her

* Female Quixotism : Exhibited in the Romantic Opinions
and Extravagant Adventures of Dorcasina Sheldon.
Felix quern faciunt aliena pericula cautum.
In plain English —

Learn to he wise by others' harm,
And you shall do full well.
In 2 vols. Boston : J. P. Peaslee. 1S29. The early editions of
popular novels become exceedingly scarce. We have met
with no earlier copy than tnia.

TABITHA TENNEY.

505

first step is to become qualified for a romantic
career by metamorphosing her plain baptismal
Dorcas into Dorcasina; her next to refuse a
suitor, a solid man of property, of suitable age
and approved by her father, whose wooing is of
too straightforward and business-like a character
to suit her Lydia Languish requirements ; and her
next, to repair daily to a romantically-disposed
arbor to read and meditate. She has a confi-
dante, not the white-muslined nonentity who
would be naturally looked for beside a Tilburina,
but a sturdy, sensible, country-bred waiting-maid,
Betty, a female Sancho Panza.

Time wears on with Miss Dorcasina. .Her re-
tired residence and equally secluded mode of life
are unfavorable to her aspirations for adventures,
and she reaches her thirty-fourth year without a
second offer.

At this period an adventurer, passing a night
at the village inn, hears of the heiress and deter-
mines to carry her off. He dresses the next
afternoon in his best, and repairs to the bower
frequented by Dorcasina. An interview is thus
obtained, the lady swallows the bait, the scamp
forges letters of introduction, and is on the point
of accomplishing his purpose when he is obliged
to decamp. Dorcasina will believe nothing to
his discredit, and is for some time inconsolable.

Her next suitor is a waggish student, a young-
ster as full of practical jokes as his prototype of
Boccaccio or Chaucer, or contemporary of Yale
College. He somewhat ungallantly selects Dor-
casina as his victim. He thickens his plot by
appearing, after having made a powerful first
impression in proprii perso?i&, as an injured
female, making a violent assault on Dorcasina and
Betty :—

The next day, as evening approached, Dorcasina
desired Betty to attend her to the grove. Betty,
being 011 many accounts unwilling to go, on her
knees entreated her mistress to give up the project.
But, finding her resolutely bent on fulfilling her en-
gagement, the faithful creature, in spite of her aver-
sion to the adventure, and of her apprehensions of
gliosis and goblins, could not bear the idea that her
mistress should go to the wood, at that hour unac-
companied. She therefore followed her footsteps,
in silent trepidation.

Being arrived at the arbor they seated themselves
on the turf. They had not sat long, when, instead
of the expected lover, a female entered, and placing
herself by the side of Dorcasina, accosted her in
the following manner: " You will, perhaps, be sur-
prised, when I inform you that I know you did not
come here with the expectation of meeting a woman.
Philander was the person whom you expected to
see ; but know, abhorred rival, that I have effectu-
ally prevented his meeting you this night, and am
now come to enjoy your disappointment. I would
have you to know, you witch ! you sorceress! that
you have robbed me of the heart of my lover ; and
I am determined to be revenged."

Dorcasina, as might naturally be expected, was
astonished at this address, and remained for some
moments in a profound silence. At length, she at-
tempted to justify herself, by saying that she was
Eorry to be the cause of pain to any one ; that, from
her own experience, she knew too well the power
of love, not to commiserate any person who nourish-
ed a hopeless passion ; that she had never yet seen
Philander, to her knowledge; that this interview
was none of her seeking; and that she had consent-

ed to it, at his earnest e^frentv, on the express con-
dition that it should never be repealed. bhe eon-
eluded by declaring that, as she now found he had
been false to another, she would immediately retire,
and hold no further intercourse with him.

This mildness served, in appearance, but to irri-
tate the supposed female. " I know your arts too
well," cried she, raising her voice, " to believe a
syllable of what you say. It is all mere pretence,
and you will consent to meet him again the very first
opportunity. But you shall not go on thus practis-
ing your devilish arts with impunity. Your basilisk
glance shall not thus rob every man of his heart,
and every woman of her lover or husband. Those
bewitching eyes, that cause mischief wherever they
are seen, I will tear them from their orbits." Tims
saying, she laid violent hands on the terrified Dor-
casina ; tore off her hat; pulled her hair ; and was
proceeding to tear off her handkerchief, when Betty,
seeing her mistress so roughly handled, started up
in her defence, and attacking the stranger with great
fury, compelled her to quit Dorcasina in order to
defend herself. Dorcasina, thus liberated, darted
out of the grove and fled towards the house with all
speed, leaving Betty to sustain the combat alone.
Finding herself deserted, and her antagonist much
her superior in strength, Betty endeavored likewise
to make her escape; but her attempt was unsuc-
cessful. She was held, cuffed, pulled by the hair,
twirled round and round like a top, shaken and
pushed up against the trees, without mercy ; the
person who thus roughly handled her, exclaiming,
all the time, " You ugly old witch, I'll teach you to
carry letters, and contrive meetings between your
mistress and my lover; you pander, you go-be-
tween !" Poor Betty begged for mercy in the most
moving terms, protesting that she had said every-
thing to dissuade her mistress from this meeting ;
but the enraged virago would not suffer her to go
till she had stripped off her upper garments (her
gown being a short one and of no great value), torn
them to rags, and scattered them about the arbor.
She then Buffered her to depart, telling her, at the
same time, that if ever she caught her engaged in
the same business again, she would not only divest
her of her clothes, but strip off her old wrinkled
hide.

In further prosecution of bis deviltry, he per-
suades a conceited barber that Dorcasina has
fallen in love with him at church. The gull
readily agrees to repair to the usual trysting-
place, where we introduce him to the reader : — ■

Monday being come, the barber, arrayed in his
Sunday clothes, with his hair as white as powder
could make it, set out, at four o'clock, for the arbor,
which had been pointed out to him by Philander ;
who, previous to this time, judging that Puff would
arrive at an early hour, had taken possession of a
thick tree, to enjoy, unobserved, the coming scene.
The barber found the hour of waiting very tedious.
He sung, he whistled, and listened attentively to
every passing noise ; when, at length, his ears were
saluted by the sound of female voices, which were
no other than those of Dorcasina and her attendant.
" Betty," said the former, " you may seat yourself
with your knitting work, without the arbor, and at
a small distance from it; for it would not be treat-
ing the young man with delicacy, to admit a third
person to witness his passion." Betty did as she
was desired ; and the little barber no sooner dis-
covered Dorcasina approaching the arbor, than,
stepping forward and taking her hand, he addressed
her with the utmost familiarity : " Gad, my dear,
I began to be very impatient, and was afraid you

506

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

had changed your mind ; but I am very glad to see
you at last ! Pray, my dear, be seated."

This familiar address, so dirierent from what
Dorcasina had been led to expect, and from what
she had been accustomed to from O'Connor, so to-
tally disconcerted her, that she was unable to an-
swer a single word. She, however, did mechanically
as she was desired, and seated herself upon the turf
in silence. The barber placed himself by her, and
still holding the hand which she had not attempted
to withdraw, pitied her for what he thought her
country timidity, and kindly endeavored to encou-
rage her. " I suppose, my dear, you feel a little
bashful or so ! but don't be afraid to confess your
love. Be assured you will meet with a suitable re-
turn; and that I shall be ever grateful and kind for
bei, g thus distinguished." Dorcasina, still more
confounded by this strange speech, and wholly un-
able to comprehend its meaning, continued silent.
The barber, after waiting some moments in vain for
a reply, again began: " Why, gad, my dear! if you
don't intend to speak, you might as well have staid
at home. Pray, now, afford me a little of your sweet
conversation, if it is but just to say how much you
love me."

Here Dorcasina conld contain herself no longer.
" I had thought, sir," said she, hesitating, " I had
expected from your professions, a quite different re-
ception from this." " Did you, indeed? Gad, my
dear, you are in the right." Upon this he threw his
arms round her neck, and almost stifled her with
kisses. The astonished Dorcasina endeavored to dis-
engage herself, but in vain; for the enraptured bar-
ber continued his caresses, only at intervals exclaim-
ing, " Gad, my dear, how happy we shall be when
we are married. I shall love you infinitely, I am
sure." Dorcasina, at length., findii g breath, in a
loud and angry tone, exclaimed, " let me go this
moment; unhand me, sir. I will not endure to be
thus treated."

Betty, who had hitherto sat quietly knitting upon
a stump, hearii g the angry voice of her mistress,
darted towards the arbor, and instantly recognized
little Puff, who had been once or twice at the house
(though unseen by Dorcasina) to dress Mr. Sheldon,
and whom she had observed to be a pretty, spruce
young fellow. Her indignation bei. g raised at the
treatment of her mistress, she sprung upon him be-
fore he was aware of it, and gave him, with her
large heavy hand, a rousing box on the ear; ex-
claiming, at the same time, iu a tone of great con-
tempt, "The little barber! as I hope to live,
ma'am."

This unexpected blow had the desired effect. Puff,
surprised in his turn, instantly released the mistiess,
and turning about to the maid, desired to know
what the d — 1 she meant. Betty did not deign to
answer him, but "stood collected in her might."
Recollecting with indignation the treatment she had
so lately received in this very spot, of which she
now supposed him to be the instigator, and incensed
at his unpardonable insolence to her mistress, she
now rejoiced in an opportunity of takii g an ample
revenge, in kind, for all the affronts they had both
received. Rudely grasping him, therefore, under
one arm (for though naturally mild, she was a vira-
go when exasperated), " You pitiful little scoundrel,"
she ciied, " what is it you mean by thus insulting
Miss Sheldon ? You pretend for to inspire to love
her, aDd decoy her here, on purpose to be impudent
to her; besides setting some impudent vailet in wo-
men's clothes to insult me, t'other night." Thus say-
ing, she boxed his ears with great fury, till the ter-
rified barber bawled to her to desist ; which she did
not do till she was heartily tired.

Meanwhile, the wicked scholar, perched on the
tree (determined if matters should come to extremi-
ty to descend and take the part of Puff ), enjoyed
the scene with the highest relish ; being obliged to
stuff the corner of his gown into Ids mouth, to pre-
vent laughing aloud and spoiling the sport.

Other equally extravagant adventures follow,
but all stop far short of matrimony. Meanwhile
Dorcasina, by the death of her father, comes into
po-session of her thousand pounds per annum.
Having exhausted her stock of sentimental fic-
tion, she, in default of anything else, reads Rode-
rick Random. Finding that hero to have, while
a serving man, fallen in love with his mistress,
she forthwith resolves that her hired man, John
Brown, is in a like predicament, and being, of
course, like Roderick, a gentleman born, is worthy
of a like reward. John displays no love for the
mistress, but is sensible of the agreeal leness of
the transition from master to man, and the banns
are published. Dorcasina is saved by main force,
a romantic abduction and imprisonment being
planned and executed by her friends, one of whom,
a lively young lady, vainly endeavors to supplant
John by courting the susceptible lady in the dis-
guise of a dashing young officer. John Brown is
meanwhile bought off and sent off.

Dorcasina at last finds that men were deceivers
ever, that married people, even married lovers,
have cares and troubles from which celibacy is
exempt, and settles down at last to an old age of
common sense.

Mrs. Tenney affords a good example of the
literary character, her discipline of mind being
associated with prudence in her affairs. She was
■uniform and methodical in her 'habits, and so fru-
gal of her time as to execute much plain and
ornamental work with her needle. Among her
practical good services to the place of her resi-
dence, was the establishment of an old colored
servant of her family in a house which hi cime a
popular place of entertainment as a rural retreat,
with its " cakes and ale," and was known as
"Dinah's Cottage."*

Mrs. Tenney died at Exeter, after a short ill-
ness, in 1887.

JOSEPH BAETLETT
Was born at Plymouth, Mass., about the year 1763,
of afamily of good Puritan standing. He became
a graduate of Harvard in 1782, and with the repu-
tation of a wit went to Salem to study law, which
he soon abandoned for a voyage to England.
There is a popular anecdote of his appearance in
tlie metropolis, which is thus related by Kuapp,
who, in his American Biography, has presented an
elaborate sketch of the man. " One night when
Bartlett was in the theatre in London, a play was
going on, in which his countrymen were ridiculed
(I believe it is one of Gen. Burgoyne's plays) ; a
number of rebels had been taken, and brought
into the British camp ; on the inquiry being made
about their occupations, I believe the play says
professions, before they became soldiers, the an-
swer was, although many of them were ofiicers,
that they were of different callings ; some were

* We are indebted for these interesting personal notices to a
lady, a relative of Mrs, Tenney.

J0SEP1I BAETLETT.

507

barbers, some tailors, some tinkers, <&e. At this
moment Bartlett rose from his seat in the pit, and
cried, "Hurra! Great Britain beaten by barbers,
tailors, and tinkers!" The effect was wonderful.
John Bull took it all in good part, and many of
the bloods of the day introduced themselves to
him ; and he made the best of the occasion.

Bartlett pursued the career of an adventurer in
London ; gambled, gained, spent, and got into
prison, from which he extricated himself by writ-
ing a play which gave him funds for his release.
He then went on the stage himself, and at Edin-
burgh acted under the assumed name of Maitland.
One of his parts was Belcour in the West Indian.
From an actor he became a merchant, and secur-
ed a large credit of goods for America, with which
he was shipwrecked upon his return on Cape Cod.
Knapp tells us, that on the voyage he frequently
paraded his infidel opinions and his contempt of
death ; but that when the vessel struck, he dis-
played the most cowardly anxiety for his safety,
saying "that it was not that he feared to die, but
that he should dislike to be f.mnd dead on such a
dreary place as the back of Cape Cod." At Bos-
ton lie formed a mercantile connexion, which soon
failed, when he turned again to the law. The
movement for the suppression of Shay's rebel-
lion gave him a brief opportunity to figure in
the military line as captain of the Republican Vo-
lunteers ; but his active services were not required.
He was admitted to the bar, and opened an office
at Woburn near Boston, where he affected oddity
to attract attention, painting his house black, and
calling it " the coffin." He next removed to Cam-
bridge, where he bore a prominent part in the pub-
lie altercations of the town, and busied himself in
the affairs of the college. In 17U9, he delivered
a poem on Physiognomy before the Phi Beta Kap-
pa Society of Harvard, in which, under an appear-
ance of general satire, he is said to have taken
off traits of individuals of note at the time. The
poem is clever, and is not marked by any appa-
rent personal scandal. Here are a few passages
from it.

God shows the force of bis creative powers,
From reasoning man, to ev'ry tree and flower ;
The hand of nature paints, on every part
Of every face, the feelings of the heart ;
Birds. Fishes, Serpents, Insects, all proclaim
Their diff'reut uses, qualities, a. id name.

The Royal Lion, haughty beast of prey,
Who pi-owls by night, and shuns the light of day,
Undaunted treads the trackless desert o'er,
And rules supreme on Afrie's bitrni g shore;
His voice of thunder, and his savage eyes,
Joined with his strength, and majesty of size,
Declare his courage, confidence, and pride,
And mark hiui sovereign of the forest wide.

See the fierce Tiger's haggard, ghastly eyes,
That show the baseness which in ambush lies;
His savage nature, easily we trace
In ev'ry line, that's marked upon his face;
When o'er his prey, exulting in his wiles,
You see a devil, when he laughs or smiles.

The grateful Bog, who licks his master's hand,
Consults his looks, obedient to command;
Sees every thought, and every wish arise,
In every movement of his master's eyes.

Look through the world, and every clime explore,

From Africa sands, to Nova Zambia's shore ;

View every bird, in every leafy grove ;

Hear every note, in every so..g of love ;

Observe their plumes, their wings, their beaks, their

eyes,
From Humming-bird, to Ostrich's lofty size;
And say if nature does not truly teach
In every bird the qualities of each.

Next the author takes up fishes, and follows
with serpents : —

Who views the Serpent, crawling on the earth,
Observes the mischiefs it has given birth,
Fraud, craft, and cunning darting from his eyes,
Sees plagues unnumbered from his form arise;
His spots, meandering, warn us of deceit,
A id every folding, shows him made to cheat.
His eyes and shapeless head make us believe
The ancient story of old Mot..er Eye.
Had but Lavater's science tiiea beea known,
We had been happy, Paradise our own ;
Eve would have seen the craft, which lurk'd

within ;
Perceiv'd the Devil, in the Serpent's skin,
Observ'd each wile, in every look complete,
Nor eat herself, nor given man to eat.
Then this our earth Millennium had been,
Free from all death, from misery a.id sin,
Man then had liv'd unconscious of the tomb,
Enjoying nature in eternal bloom.

Forgive, my friends, if I presume to scan,
And show the Puys.ognomy of Man,
Explore each wiudi g of the inmost soul,
Expose his vices and unveil the whole.

* * * * * *

The author never speaks of individuals, but of
classes, wherein he alludes to their foioles, for
example: —

Behold the man who scents the drawing-room,
"With all the fragrance of a rich perfume,
In speaking lisps, in walking seems to dance,
And shines in all the frippery of France.
His forehead short, his eyebrows wild, and thin
Denotes the For, the want of sense within ;

81 * X- * * *

Poor senseless being, let the idiot pass;
In dress a Foe, in intellect an Ass.

Of the critics : —

Make way, my friends, and give the Critic place,
With me observe the features of his face ;
His front, his lips, his eyes, declare aloud,
That he's a man oppressive, harsh, and proud,
Point to a man unsociable, severe,
Who damns all genius with a haughty sneer;
Who walks the street with stiff, important air,
And judges merit by the rules of Blair;
A comma wanted, puts him in a rage;
A well-tnrn'd period, condemns the page.
Hani is the task of this unhappy Wigut,
To read, to hear, examine all we write.
To turn o'er volumes with convulsive haste,
And dash out pages, to reform our taste.

We leave the Critic, with his envious mind,
To show a face, the noblest of its kind ;
Majestic forehead, and an arched nose,
Boldness and vigor of the mind disclose.
A piercing eye, commanding, wild, severe,
Shows us a man incapable of fear;

508

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

We know the man, 'tis Freedom' $ favorite son,
Columbia's boast, our saviour Washington.

By and by he takes up woman : —

From men we turn, to view the Female sex,
Made to delight, to fain, to please, to vex ;
Form'd by our God, to strew our path with flowers,
To sooth our cares, to glad our passing hours,

******

First on the list, observe that woman's form,
Who looks a very monster in a storm.
Her skinny lips, her pointed nose behold,
And s;iy if nature's marked her for a scold?
Observe her chin, her every feature trace,
And see the fury, trembling in her face ;
By nature made to mar the joys of life,
And damn that man who has her for a wife.
******

The mild blue eye, the round and dimpled chin,
Bespeaks a mind incapable of sin,
The laughing cheeks, the lips of coral dye,
Declare the Curios which in ambush lie ;
The nose and forehead, happily combine,
To show exertions of a power divine,
To show an angel in a woman's face,
On which is stamped both dignity and grace,
When fortune frowns, and adverse scenes arise,
Despair and horror stand before our eyes,
Our minds are wrapt in all the gloom of night,
The world appears a desert in our 6ight,
Our friends desert us like a summer's fly,
And leave us wretched, languishing to die ;
An angel female, soothes our souls to rest,
And calms tiie passions raging in the breast,
Dispels all care, and ev'ry pain beguiles,
Subdues all fear, and clothes the face with smiles :
Females like her, would make all nature bloom,
And smooth the passage to the dreary tomb.

To this poem are appended, in the edition of
1823, at Boston, dedicated to John Quincy
Adams, a number of Aphorisms on lien, Man-
ners, Principles, and Things, which his various
opportunities in the world had given him ample
opportunity to collect. Here are a few of them,
some of which, if we are to receive Knapp's view
of his life, might have been profitable in his own
career.

Whenever you find a man endeavoring to lessen
and destroy the reputation of another, be certain his
own character is desperate.

There never was a calumniator who was brave,
honest, or just.

I never found a slanderer, who dared to meet face
to face the person whom he abused and vilified
when absent.

LAW.

The man who, for any trifling injury, applies to a
lawyer for redress, will soon be obliged to apply to
the town for support.

BOASTING.

Whenever you hear a man boasting of his cou-
rage, be convinced lie will be a coward in time of
danger.

A man who boasts of his honesty, or a woman of
her chastity, are both to be suspected.

Women possess less charity towards the foibles of
their own sex than the men.

A woman, destitute of morals, will be more atro-
cious than a man : Devils were made from Angels.

Let woman be conscious of her beauty, and she
will usually be inattentive to her mind.

Women possess stronger passions than men, less
reason to govern them.

FEIENDSHIP.

Friendship is in every person's mouth — little under-
stood, and less practised.

A man frequently loses the affection of his friend,
when he loses his property.

Love is the attachment of bodies — friendship the
union of souls.

Confidence is the cement of friendship.

PARTY 6PIEIT.

A party spirit in a small village, is the poison and
curse of all social intercourse.

Every social feeling, every generous emotion,
every noble sentiment, is usually sacrificed on the
altar of Party Spirit.

In 1823, Bartlett delivered a voluntary Fourth
of July oration in Boston, after which he recited
a poem, entitled the New Vicar of Bray.

Leaving Cambridge, Bartlett practised law and
politics in Maine. He had before been in the
Massachusetts House of Representatives, and was
now elected to the Maine legislature. He was at
this time a candidate for Congress, and nearly
secured his election by his personal exertions as a
speaker, and his political newspaper writings.
He also practised law in Portsmouth, Mass., and
finally settled down in Boston, a burden to his
few friends in the last years of an improvident
life. He died Oct. 27, 1827, at the age of sixty-
six. Loring, in his Boston Orators, gives the fol-
lowing Epitaph, which Bartlett wrote on himself,
and which he recited on his death-bed : —

'Tis done! the fatal stroke is given,

And Bartlett's fled to hell or heaven ;

His friends approve it, and his foes applaud, —

Yet he will have the verdict of his God.

Another stanza, which he is said to have re-
cited while attending the funeral of John Hale,
an estimable citizen of Portsmouth, exhibits, per-
haps, feeling and compunction : —

God takes the good,

Too good by far to stay
And leaves the bad,

Too bad to take away.*

JAMES KENT.

James Kent was born in the town of Fredericks,
Putnam co., New York, July 31, 1763. His
father was a lawyer by profession, and occa-
sionally practised; but his main attention was
devoted to his farm, a pleasantly situated estate
on the banks of the Croton river. The beautiful
scenes of this locality made a deep impression on
the mind of the son; and years after, when the
stream, like the boy who dwelt beside it, had
become famous, it was his delight to stand at the
window of his library and watch its waters leap-
ing forth in the Union Park fountain before him.
James Kent entered the Freshman Class of
Yale College in 1777. His studies were inter-

* Loring's Hundred Boston Orators, p. 406.

JAMES KENT.

500

rupted in his Sophomore year by the occupation
of the town by the British, in consequence of
which the college was temporarily closed. It
was during; this recess that he first met with
Bleed-stone's Commentaries, and so delighted was
he with that great work, that he at once resolved
to master its contents by close study. This inci-
dent determined his choice of a profession.

Obtaining his degree in 1781, he at once com-
menced the study of the law in the office of tho
distinguished Egbert Benson, at Poughkeepsie.
He was admitted attorney in January, 1785, and
commenced practice in his native village of Fre-
dericks, but finding there too limited a field for
his exertions, he returned to Poughkeepsie, where
he opened an office in partnership with Gilbert
Livingston. Here, in April, 1785, he married
Miss Elizabeth Bayley.

A conviction of the limited extent of his classi-
cal acquirements (the course at Yale College, in
his day, extending only to the study of the New
Testament in Greek, and of portions of Virgil,
Horace, and Cicero in Latin) led to a plan of
study which he immediately put into execution.
By rising very early he was enabled to devote
two hours to Greek and two to Latin before
breakfast. The business hours of the day were
occupied by his profession. Two hours after
dinner were given to the French language, and
the evening, when not engaged socially, to the
study of the English classics, in verse as well as
prose. Ho continued this division of the day
until lie became a Judge of the Supreme Court.

In 1790 and 1792 he was elected a member of
the State Assembly. He became a loader of the
federal minority in this body, and distinguished
himself by the ability with which, in 1793, ho
conducted the examination of witnesses relative
to the destruction of the votes cast in Otsego
county, in the election for Governor of the State,
an act which had raised the candidate of tho
minority to the office. His course was warmly
approved by John Jay, and remembered to his
advantage, when the latter became Governor of
the State.

In April, 1793, he was nominated for Congress
in Dutchess county, but his party being in the
minority, lost his election. He removed during
the same month to the city of New York. Here,
as at his previous residence, his professional
receipts were very small, and as neither himself
nor his wife possessed private resources, they
were much straitened in their circumstances.
In December, he was appointed Professor of
Law at Columbia College, and after diligent pre-
paration entered upon its duties in the follow-
ing November. His introductory lecture was
published by the trustees, and in 1795 he issued
a small volume containing three others prelimi-
nary to his course on the common law, devoted
to a review of the various forms of government
which have existed at various periods, a history
of the union of the United States from their first
conjoined action to the adoption of the Federal
Constitution, and an examination of the law of
nations as applied to the circumstances of peace,
war, and neutrality. He delivered in the same
year an address before the State Society for the
promotion of agriculture, art, and manufactures,
winch is printed in the first volume of their

Transactions, ne was also appointed by Governor
Jay one of the two Masters in Chancery of the
city, much to the improvement of his financial
resources.

In 1798, he resigned his professorship, tho
attendance of students and provision for support
being too slight to warrant farther effort in its
behalf. He was appointed the same year a Jus-
tice of the Supreme Court by Governor Jay, and
accepted the office, although the salary was much
less than what he at this time received, as he held
the office of recorder, by appointment, in 1797,
as well as Master in Chancery. He here, in his
second term, introduced the practice of rendering
written decisions, a course followed by his asso-
ciates, and which in a short time raised tho
Bench to a far higher dignity than it had pre-
viously attained. In 180-1, he became Chief-Jus-
tice, an office which he held until his appoint-
ment in 1814 as Chancellor. During his tenure
of this office he effected, saj's Judge Duer, "a
change in the system and administration of
equity law, so extensive and entire, that with a
single exception (that of Lord Nottingham) it has
no parallel in the history of the law." He re-
tained this office until 1823, when having attained
the age of sixty, he became incapacitated by the
law of the State for judicial duty.

The same year, on occasion of a vacancy in
the bench of the Supreme Court of the United
States, Kent was talked of by his friends for
the appointment, and the matter was warmly
seconded by Wirt, then Attorney-General, who
addressed a letter on the subject to President
Monroe, in which he met the difficulty of Kent's
political relations by urging the value of his
character to the nation. " Kent holds so lofty a
stand," he wrote, "everywhere, for almost match-
less intellect and learning, as well as for spotless
purity and high-minded honor and patriotism,
that I firmly believe tho nation at large would
approve and applaud the appointment." Of his

510

'CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

personal character, "Wirt held this appreciation.
"His conversation and manners are indicative
only of a simplicity almost infantile, and of the
mot perfect kindness and suavity of disposition ;
and such, I have understood, has always been his
character. Judging by what I have seen of him,
and by all that I have ever heard, he is as benig-
nant and patriotic as he is admitted on all hands
to be great and enlightened." The appointment
was proposed, while Mr. Smith Thompson, to
whom the post had been offered, hesitated in its
acceptance. His entrance upon the office closed
the matter.*

With a view to the establishment of a law
school, Kent removed from Albany, where he re-
sided during his judicial career, to the city of New
York, and a second time accepted the professorship
of law in Cc ilumbia College. He delivered a course
of lectures in 182 A, which he repeated the next
year, when the increase of his practice as coun-
sel, his intention of preparing his lectures for
publication, and as before the inadequate pecu-
niary support of the professorship, rendered his
further discharge of its duties merely nominal.

In 1826 he published the first volume of his
Commentaries.t at the earnest solicitation of
his friends, he himself having little expectation
of a favorable reception by the public. He ori-
ginally contemplated but two volumes, but these
expanded as he proceeded into four, the last of
which appeared in 1830. They at once took the
high place they have since held in legal litera-
ture, and as the universally received text-books
of the science throughout the country, as by
the plan of stating first the common law on each
topic, and afterwards the changes introduced by
decisions or statute in each State, it is adapted to
the use of every portion of the Union. The
copyright of this work was held by the author
exclusively in his 'own hands, the copies printed
stoied in his own residence, and disposed of as
order xl by the booksellers.

Humor is hardly to be looked for in a volume
of Commentaries on the law, but Kent, after
having conducted the student through the in-
tricate theme in his text, coolly informs him in
a note that the rule in Shelley's case is entirely
superseded.

The juridical scholar, on whom his great master,
Coke, has bestowed some portion of the " gladsome
light of jurisprudence," will scarcely be able to
withhold an involuntary sigh, as he casts a retro-
spective glance over the piles of learning, devoted
to destruction by an edict as sweeping and unrelent-
ing as the torch of Omar. He must bid adieu for
ever to the renowned discussions in Shelley's case,
which were so vehement and so protracted as to
arouse the sceptre of the haughty Elizabeth. He
may equally take leave of the multiplied specimens
of [profound logic, skilful criticism, and refined dis-
tinctions, which pervade the varied cases in law and
equity, from those of Shelley and Archer, down to
the direct collision between the courts of law and
equity, in the time of Lord Hardwicke. He will
have no more concern with the powerful and ani-
mated discussions in Perrin v. Blake, which awak-
ened all that was noble and illustrious in talent and
endowment, through every precinct of Westminster

* Kennedy's Memoirs of Wirt. ii. 153. 155.

T Commentaries on American Law, by James Kent

hall. He will have occasion no longer, in pursuit
of the learning of that case, to tread the clear and
blight paths illuminated by Sir William Blaekstone's
illustrations, or to study and admire the spirited and
ingenious dissertation of Hargrave, the comprehen-
sive and profound disquisition of Fearne, the acute
and analytical essay of Preston, the neat and orderly
abridgment of Cruise, and the severe and piercing
criticisms of Reeve. What I have, therefore, writ-
tea on this subject, may be considered, so far as my
native state is concerned, as an humble monument
to tue memory of departed learning.

The reports of his opinions as Chief-Justice and
Chancellor bear testimony with his Commentaries
to his clearness of style and ability aj a writer.
As an evidence of their excellence, it may be
stated that one quoted in an argument by Web-
ster is cited in an article on that great orator in
the North American Review as from his pen.

In 1828, Kent delivered an Anniversary Dis-
course be/ore the New York Historical Society ; in
1831, an address before the Phi Beta Kappa at
Yale College; and in 1836 one before the Law
Association of New York, in which he has given
spirited reminiscences of the leading members of
the bar at the commencement of bis career.

In 18A0 he prepared, at the request of the Mer-
cantile Library Association, a Course of Rending
for the guidance of its members, composed exclu-
sively of merchants' clerks of this city. It con-
tains an unusual preponderance of hooks of travel,
a class of writings in which the compiler took
interest. His friends were amused by the ample
field of geographical study thus marked out for
youthful readers engaged in unscholnstic pursuits,
but the preference was one not ill adapted to the
purpose of aiding to interest, and at the same
time instruct, while its bearing on the mercantile
career is obvious.

The incentive these perpetually novel and ad-
ventt c.u narratives afforded to the exercise of
the iniiifcination, with the engrossing but not
exhausting employment to the mind of minute
geographical study, supplied an inexhaustible fund
of the purest gratification to a sympathetic and
intellectual old age.

Chancellor Kent continued the practice of his
profession as chamber counsel, until within a
short period of his death, which occurred on the
12th Dec, 1847. The temperate and constant
use of his faculties through life preserved their
energy to a remarkable extent in Ins old age.
His amiability and purity of character were as
remarkable as his judicial acquirements.

His son, William Kent, is engaged upon a bio-
graphy, which will hardly fail, by increasing our
knowledge, to inciease still more our respect for
its eminent subject. The materials for our own
article have been mainly derived from the excellent
discourse delivered at the request of the Judiciary
and bar of the city and state, by the Hon. John
Duer, in 1848.

TIIE NEW YORK CONVENTION FOE TnF .ADOPTION OF THE FEDE-
RAL CONSTITUTION — FROM AN ADDRESS BEFOEE THE LAW
ASSOCIATION.

I allude to the convention which assembled at
Poughkeepsie in the summer of 1788, to deliberate
and decide on the adoption of the federal constitu-
tion. The intense interest with which the meeting
of the convention was anticipated and regarded, can

JAMES KENT.

511

hardly be conceived at this day, and much less ade-
quately described. I then resided in that village,
and was enabled and induced to attend the conven-
tion as a spectator, daily aud steadily during the
entire six weeks of its session, and I was of course an
eye and ear witness to everything of a public nature
that was said or done. The convention was com-
posed of sixty-five members, and not one of them
remains a survivor at this day. 'that bright and
golden age of the republic may now be numbered
" with the years beyond the flood," and I am left in
comparative solitude to recall and enjoy the enchant-
ing vision.

The convention combined the talents, experience,
and weight of character, of some of the most distin-
guished men in the state. Most of them had been
tutore 1 in the discussions, services, a:id perils of the
revolution. The principal speakers in favor of the
adoption of the constitution were, Mr. Jay (then
(Secretary for Foreign Affairs), Chancellor Living-
ston, Mr. Duane (the i mayor of this city), Mr. Hari-
son, and Colonel Hamilton. On the other side, and
against the adoption without previous amendments,
were George Clinton (then Governor of the state),
Mr. Lansing (afterwards Chancellor), Mr. Jones
(afterwards Recorder of this city), John Williams
of Washington county, and Gilbert Livingston and
Melancton Smith, delegates from Dutchess. There
was no difficulty in deciding at once on which si le
of the house the superiority in debate existed. Yet
in the ordinary range of the discussions, it was
found that the dignity, candor, and strength of Jay,
the polished address and elegant erudition of Chan-
cellor Livingston, and the sagacity and exhaustless
researches of Hamilton, were met with equal pre-
tensions by their opponents, supported bv the sim-
plicity and u lprete iding good sense of Clinton, the
sound judgment of Jones, the plausible deductions
of Lansing, and the metaphysical mind and embar-
rassing subtleties of Smith. But Colonel Hamilton
maintained the ascendancy on every question ; and
being the only member present who had signed the
constitution, he felt and sustained most intrepidly
the weight of the responsibility which belonged to
him as the leader on the federal side of the ques-
tion. All seemed, as by common consent, to con-
cede to him the burden and the honors of the de-
bate. Mr. Smith was also the most prominent and
responsible speaker on the part of the anti-federal
majority. There was no person on that side to be
compared to him in acute and logical discussion.
He was Hamilton's most persevering and formidable
antagonist. But even Smith was routed in every
contest, and as Mr. Hamilton had been a most active
member of the national convention, and the princi-
pal author of the Federalist, his mind had grown
familiar with the principles and history of federal
governments, and with every topic of debate. He
was prompt, ardent, energetic, and overflowing,
with an exhaustless store of argument and illustra-
tion.

The three principal topics of debate, in which
Mr. Hamilton was most distinguished and most mas-
terly, were (1), on the importance of the union, the
defects of the confederation, and the just principles
of representation. (2.) On the requisite tenure and
stability of the senate. (3.) Un the power of taxa-
tion and the residuary rights of the states. On
each of those subjects he bestowed several speeches,
some of which were employed in refutation and
reply.

He generally spoke with great earnestness and
energy, and with considerable, and Bometimes ve-
hement gesture. His language was clear, nervous,
aud classical He went to the foundation and rea-

son of every doctrine which he examined, and he
brought to the debate a mind richly adorned with
all the learning that was applicable. He never
omitted to meet fairly the discussion, and he was
sure to discover the strength and weakness, the in-
gredients of truth and error, in every proposition he
had to contend with. His candor was magnani-
mous, and rose to a level with his talents. His
temper was spirited, but courteous, amiable, and
generous ; and he frequently made pathetic and
powerful appeals to the good sense and patriotism
of the assembly, and painted vividly the difficulties
and dangers of the crisis, in order to prepare their
minds for a favorable reception of the constitution,
The style aud manner of Smith's speeches was plain,
dry, and syllogistic ; and it behooved his adversary
to understand well the ground on which he stood,
and the principles he advanced, or he might find it
somewhat embarrassing to extricate himself from a
Eubtle web of specious reasoning, unless indeed it
was met by Hamilton's skill and strength, which
nothing could resist. Smith was a speaker of re-
markable simplicity, and his disposition was gentle
and liberal. though I had strong political preju-
dices against Governor Clinton, as the leader of the
party opposed to the constitution, yet during. the
course of the session, I became forcibly struck with
the dignity with which he presided, and with his
unassumii g and modest pretensions as a speaker.
It was impossible not to have respect for such a
character, or for a young man not to be somewhat
overawed in his presence, when it became appaient
from all his conduct, that he possessed great deci-
sion of character, aud a stern inflexibility of pur-
pose.

The arguments urged by Col. Hamilton in the
debates, were substantially the same which he had
before employed in the Federalist. They could not
have been different, for he had already urged all the
leading considerations which led to the plan, and
had guided the judgment and skill of the artists.

In his openij g speech, Mr. Hamilton preliminarily
observed, that it was of the utmost importance that
the convention should be strongly impressed with a
conviction of the necessity of the union of the states.
If they could be entirely satisfied of that great truth,
their minds would then be prepared to admit the
necessity of a government of similar organization
and powers with the scheme of the one before them,
to uphold and preserve that union. It was like the
case of the doctrine of the immortality of the soul,
aud doubts on that subject were one great cause, he
said, of modern infidelity, for if men could be
thoroughly convinced that they had within them
immaterial and immortal spirits, their minds would
be prepared for the ready reception of Christian
truth. After pointing out the radical defects of the
articles of confederation, and vindicating the popu-
lar basis of the proposed system, he declared his
most serious conviction, that the latter was a wise
and genuine specimen of a representative republic ;
and he hoped and trusted that we should find in it
an effectual cure for our actual distresses, and that it
would prove an eminent blessing to us and our pos-
terity. He concluded his first great speech with the
patriot's prayer: " Oh ! save my country, heaven \"
in allusion to the brave Cobham, who felt " his ruling
passion strong in death."

His two speeches on the organization, powers,
and stability of the senate, were regarded at the
time, by the best judges, as the noblest specimens
which the debates in that, or in any other assembly,
ever afforded of the talents and wisdom of the states-
man. They were delivered with a strong desire to
put down a most mischievous aud pernicious propo-

512

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

Bition to amend the constitution, and -which was,
that "no person should be eligible as a senator for
more than six years in any term of twelve years,
and that they should at all times -within the period
of six years be subject to recall by the state legislat-
ures, and to the substitution of others." Mr Hamil-
ton, on that occasion, took broad views of the nature
of man, — his passions, pursuits, interests, prejudices,
duties ; and he drew his deductions from the design
and necessity of government, the settled principles
of policy, and the history and melancholy infirmities
of all free, and especially of all federal governments,
ancient and modern. Instability, a fluctuating
policy, and corrupt and vindictive factions, were
prominent features and practical consequences
in the history of most republican sj'stems, and their
necessary tendency was to weaken the sanctity of
contracts, lessen the security of property, destroy a
proud and just sense of national honour, and finally to
forfeit the respect and confidence of the rest of man-
kind. He contended, therefore, that in all just
policy, we ought not to hesitate to infuse a principle
of stability into the structure of our national go-
vernment, by the creation of a senate, to be com-
paratively small in the number of its members, and
to have them chosen for considerable periods of
time, so as to inspire them with a feeling of inde-
pendence, and a lively sense of character, in the due
discharge of their trust. Upon no other plan, could
the Senate, either in its legislative or executive
character, be able to perform its functions as the
balance-wheel of the machine. In no other way
would that body be able to become the requisite
check to the mischiefs of misguided zeal and fac-
tious policy in the more popular branch, or to the
abuses and misrule of the president, in the exercise
of the treaty and the appointing powers.

During the sitting of the convention, information
was received that rN'ew Hampshire had adopted the
constitution, and she made the ninth state that had
ratified it. That great event wrought at once a
momentous change in the condition of the United
States ; inasmuch as the confederation became there-
by ipso facto dissolved, and the new constitution
had become, or would be when organized, the exist-
ing national government of the nine states which
hud ratified the same. But that fact, solemn and
weighty as it was, did not seem to disturb the tran-
quillity, or shake the purpose, of a majority of the
convention. Mr. Smith and Mr. Lansing both
declared that the event had no influence on their
deliberations. The convention continued its sharp
debates for three weeks longer, and apparently
regardless of that information, until all hopes of an
auspicious issue to the business seemed to be lost.
It was in the midst of that gloomy period, and just
before the clouds began to disperse, and serene skies
to appear and gladden the moral atmosphere of the
place, that Mr. Hamilton made one of his most
pathetic and impassioned addresses. He urged every
motive and consideration that ought to sway the
human mind in such a crisis, fie touched with
exquisite skill every cord of sympathy that could be
made to vibrate in the human breast. Our country,
our honor, our liberties, our firesides, our posterity,
were placed in vivid colors before us. He alluded
to the distresses and national degradation which
dictated the call for a general convention, and he
portrayed in matchless style the characters in that
illustrious assembly, composed of the wisest and
brightest of our American statesmen. To discrimi-
nate largely might be invidious ; but it could not
be so, he said, to select Franldin, revered by the
wise men of Europe, and Washington, crowned with
laurels, and refulgent with glory.

Intelligence was shortly afterwards received, that
Virginia had also adopted the constitution. Mr.
Hamilton read with much sensibility a letter to that
effect, communicated by express from Mr. Madison.
It produced at once a visible change in the disposi-
tion of the house, and led it to think of adopting the
constitution upon certain terms. A resolution to
that effect was before the house, when Mr. Smith
moved that the constitution be ratified upon condi-
tion, that certain powers contained in the instru-
ment should not be exercised until a general con-
vention of the states had been called to propose
amendments. This proposition was discussed for
several days, and under the impression in one part
of the house, that the adoption of the constitution
with that qualification annexed, would readily be
received by the existing Congress. Mr. Hamilton
was strenuous and peremptory in his opinion, that
such a conditional ratification would not and could
not possibly be accepted. He assured the house
that all expectations from such a source would
prove delusive. This opinion gained ground, and
the members generally and gradually assumed a
more conciliatory tone; and all vehemence in debate
seemed to cease as by common consent. Convic-
tions once beginning to operate, were borne along
with increasing force against the stream of preju-
dice. " We did not come here," said Mr. Jay, " to
carry points, or gain party triumphs. We ought
not to expect it, or wish it. We were without a
national government, and on the eve of an untried
era. Everything demanded moderation and con-
cession. The laurels of mere party victory, might
be bedewed with the tears, or stained with the
blood of our fellow-citizens." Mr. Hamilton dis-
claimed all intention of wounding the feelings of
any individual, though he had expressed himself in
the course of the debates in strong language, dic-
tated by strong emotions, for on no subject had his
mind been agitated with more painful concern.
The spirit of the house became liberal and cheer-
ing ; and at last Mr Jones moved to substitute the
■words in fall confidence, in lieu of the words, vpon
condition, in the form of the ratification. He was
supported by Mr. Smith, who had so eminently dis-
tinguished himself, and by Mr. Piatt, then first judge
of the county of Dutchess, who made a few plain
observations in a direct and downright maimer, of
his sense of duty, and of his determination to follow
it, Twelve members came over from the anti-
federal side of the house, and they were sufficient
to constitute the majority which unconditionally
ratified the constitution. I have always considered
the members who made this memorable and
unbought sacrifice of error, prejudice, and party
discipline, on the altar of patriotism and their coun-
'• try's welfare, as entitled to the highest commenda-
j tion. It was quite an heroic effort, to quit such a
j leader as Governor Clinton, though it was to follow
their own convictions. It was understood that
■ several other members were inclined to follow the
same course, but they could not be brought to
: desert the governor, who remained inflexible. Had
1 he consented to vote for the constitution, the rati-
. fication of it would probably have been unanimous.
i As it was, the spirit of conciliation which closed the
labors of that illustrious assembly, was deemed most
auspicious, and as affording a new and instructive
example of wisdom and moderation to mankind.

ABIEL HOLMES.

Abiel Holmes, the author of the American An-
nals, one of the pioneer works of American His-
tory, was born in Woodstock, Conn., a town

ST. JOHN HONEYWOOD.

513

formerly under the jurisdiction of Massachusetts,
December 24, 1763. His father, Dr. David
Holmes, had served as captain with the provincial
forces in the old French war in Canada. Ahiel
graduated at Yalo in 1783, and soon after accepted
the appointment of Tutor in the college, having
first preached a short time to a society in Mid-
way, Georgia. In 1788. he was settled over the
congregation in Midway, where he had formerly
preached, and maintained a happy relation with
them until 1791, when the state of his health
compelled him to remove to the north. In 1790,
he married Mary, daughter of Dr. Ezra Stiles, the
president of Yale College. She died in 1795,
leaving no children.

In 1792, Mr. Holmes was installed as pastor of
the Fir-it Congregational Church in Cambridge,
Mass., and occupied this position until 1832, a
long period of forty years, when the increase of
new theological opinions caused a division of the
society. He retained his connexion with the
"orthodox" portion of the parish, a colleague
having been settled with him, to whom lie soon
resigned his share of the duties, and passed the
remainder of his life peacefully and happily in
Cambridge. His religious and ecclesiastical faith
was that of the Puritans. His position at Cam-
bridge was, therefore, peculiarly difficult and deli-
cate, surrounded as he was with communities
of different faith, and in the immediate vicinity
of an institution at that time almost exclusively
under Unitarian influence. But he was charitable
by nature, and disposed to live peaceably with
those whose faith differed from his own. For a
long course of years he was in the habit of ex-
changing pulpits with the Unitarian clergy of the
neighborhood, and never ceased to be on the most
friendly terms of intercourse with many among
them.

In the year 1800 lie married Sarah, daughter
of the Hon. Oliver Wendell, of Boston.*

In his literary career Dr. Holmes, in 1798,
wrote the life of his father-in-law, President
Stiles, a work of genuine worth and character.
In 1805 he' published his American Annals, a
work in two volumes octavo, containing the out-
lines of American History from 1492 to the pe-
riod of its publication, a work of careful collection
and research; and in 1829 he published a second
edition of the work, enlarged with a continuation
of the record. The American Annals employed
him some ten years in composition, and much
labor was expended on its revision. This was a
labor of love. To verify a doubtful legend ; to
disprove a questionable tradition by new testimo-
ny ; to get at the absolute fact and let this tell its
own story : such labor as this was his highest
literary pleasure. Like a famous observer in
science ho might have adopted the saying of
Rousseau as his motto, " I know that truth is in
things, and not in my mind that judges of them,
and that the loss of myself I mingle with them
the nearer I shall come to the truth." He ob-
served the remark, however, very differently from
the famous egotist who originated it.

* The children of this second marriage were, 1. Mary Jack-
son, married to Usher Pavsons, M.D.; '2. Ann Susan, married
to the Hon. Charles Wontworlb t'pham ; 8. Sarah Lathrop,
who died in childhood; 4. Oliver Wendell, the poet and phx--
sician ; 0. John Holmes of Cambridge.
VOL. I. — 33

In 1817 Dr. Holmes delivered a course of
Lectures on Ecclesiastical History in Harvard
College.

Ho published in the Massachusetts Historical
Collections a Memoir of the French Protestants ;
and a History of the Town of Cambridge.

Besides the works thus enumerated he pub-
lished various sermons. Occasionally, like many
of his clerical contemporaries, he indulged in
verse, not, however, in any more serious efforts
than a slight translation or an occasional hymn.

His fondness for history and antiquarian re-
search was no doubt favored and fostered by his
early relations with his revered father-in-law,
President Stiles. But the author of " The His-
tory of the Judges " joined to his learning a love
of theory leading him at times towards credulity,
which his son-in-law did not inherit. The master
was fond of wide speculations ; the pupil was con-
tent with the humble task of collecting, sifting,
verifying, and classifying the facts of history. To
the same master is to be traced the love of the
Hebrew language, which he always retained.
He often referred to his first lessons received from
the lips of the President himself. He had Greek
and Latin enough for the reading of sacred and
classical books, and so much of French and Spa-
nish as was necessary for the consultation of
historical authority. He had too a scholar's taste
in books. Without being a book collector in the
strict sense, he had a fondness for good editions,
and there were few happier moments than when
he brought home an Elzevir, or a Stephanus, or
a Frobenius, and introduced the venerable new
comer to his somewhat crowded shelves.

In his personal character lie was of a kindly
and genial disposition, and the somewhat severe
forms of belief in which he was bred, and to
which he was faithful through life, never chilled
his social nature.

In the general love and confidence of his
parish and supported by the Christianity which
he had served, he died at Cambridge, June 4,
1837*

ST. JOHN HON"EYWOOD.

St. Jonx Hon'eywood was born in 1764, the son
of an English physician who had settled in Lei-
cester, Mass. In 176G the father, then a surgeon
in the American army, lost his life at Ticonderoga,
leaving his son an orphan and destitute. He was
educated at the expense of a few friends at the
school of Mr. Tisdale, in Lebanon, Conn., and
continued his studies at Yale College, where he
became domesticated in the house of th'e Presi-
dent, the Eev. Dr. Stiles, who always maintained
a high regard for his pupil. He took his degree
in 1782, and passed the two following years as a
teacher in an academy at Schenectady, New York.
He then removed to Albany and studied law in
the office of Peter W. Yates. After having been
admitted to the bar, he removed to Salem, Wash-
ington Co., where he practised his profession
during the remainder of his lite. He was one of
the Presidential electors by whom John Adams
was chosen the successor of Washington. He

* Mass. Hist. Collections, vol. vii. We are indebted for the

Eorsonal reminiscences to a communication from the pen of
»r. Oliver Wendell Holmes.

514

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

married in 1788 a daughter of Col. Mosely of
Westfield, Mass., and died Sept. 1, 1798.

4?72££r/2t?sWZ&

The volume of his poems -would have appeared
in the author's lifetime, but death interrupted
his plan of publication, and the work fell for
biographical notice and editorship into the hands
of his successor, who married his widow, a mat-
ter-of-fact man, who records this circumstance
with coolness, and offers as an apology for the pau-
city of the facts his limited knowledge of the au-
thor; with whom his acquaintance seems to have
been mainly of a posthumous character. Of the
literary habits of Honeywood he records the com-
position of one of his short poems on fifty separate
pieces of paper — which, he trusts, with some uncer-
tainty, have been correctly joined together.

The little volume which contains these poems
was published in New York by T. & J- Swords
in 1801, and was dedicated to Josiah Ogden Hoff-
man, then Attornej'-General of the State. Unim-
portant as a collection of poetry, it is a curious
picture of the closing years of the last century
when Washington declined a re-election to the
Presidency (the subject for several pages of heroic
verse), when Shea rebelled in Massachusetts (cele-
brated in an ironical song), when Europe was
seething with the coming Revolution (a lively
news-monger's ballad), and Citizen Adet went
home to France full of the prestige of the new
republic of the west, duly impressed upon his
mind by a poetical address from St. John Honey-
wood. Then for purely domestic matters the
negroes were celebrating Pinxta, the ladies were
lyiug in in great state, or writing letters not in the
best of English — at least our poet inculcates
Entick in terms which would be superfluous at
the present day, when learning and good sense
are such common things.

Since daily occasion compels us to write,
Read these lines, my dear Clara, and learn to indite,
Here is then the great secret, to this you'll attend,
Write in just the same manner you'd speak to your

friend ;
Avoid all hard words and bombastical strain,
If jour style be but chaste, it can scarce be too

plain,
Many persons who've got a slight tincture of know-
ledge,
Young boarding-school misses, and students from

college,
By high sounding nonsense endeavor to please,
And talk of their bright and their gloomy ideas:
Avoid all this stiffness, this troublesome toil,
And write to your friends in your every day style.

These smoothly written verses, and others more
pointed, show the writer to have possessed a plea-
sant vein of humor. His graver attempts are
somewhat prosaic.

THE SELFISH MAN'S PEAYEE ON TIIE PROSPECT OF WAB.

Again the clouds of battle lour

Willi terror and dismay ;
Protect me, all disposing power,

Iu this disastrous day 1

As in the camp the soldiers learn

To riot, curse and swear,
'Twould give my pious soul concern

To have my boys go there !

Then while my neighbours and their sons

Are called to war aid arms,
Grant that my boys, secure from guns,

May cultivate my faims I

And while with taxes and expense

My kindred are diBtress'd,
0 grant that all my hard-earn'd pence

May slumber iu the chest !

And should the Frenchmen gain the day,

And all'their foes condemn :
Then may I wash my hands, aud say

I ne'er opposed them !

Yet, if by thj- disposing will,
My country gains the cause,

0 may I find a shelter still
In her indulgent laws !

And should she disbelieve my word,

May I upon thee call
To witness I ne'er drew my sword,

Or fir'd a gun at all.

For since from frailty and mistake
]S"o carnal mind is free,

1 wish no active part to take,
But leave the whole to thee I

Though impious pirates on the seas

Our merchants' ships despoil;
Yet shall my spirit rest in ease

Till foes invade the soil.

Then let the fiends of battle rave,

My peaceful vales shall sing;
And oxen, corn, and all I have,

Full thrice their value bring.

0 may my lands yield twenty-fold,

The army to supply ;
May fat contractors, fraught with gold,.

My copious harvests buy I

May continental rags no more

Usurp the place of coin;
But crown my basket and my store

With blessings from the mine.

What though the fig-tree shall not bloom

Or oxen seek the siall ;
What though it be thy righteous doom

That half our youth shall fall :

Yet if thou wilt thy servant bless,

And my posterity,
I'll joy in my own righteousness,

To perpetuity.

TTTE pvese:

Addressed to a Friend.

The. Author was journeying with a friend : for convenience
they pursed, their money. When they parted tliey divided
their money and their purse (which teas of the double con-
struction), each taking one half or it. When he understood
his friend teas a candidate, for matrimony, 7te returnea
the half purse, with the following lines : —

This purse, long sever'd from its mate,
The grateful muse returns to thee;

Tis not oppress'd with golden weight,
Nor yet from cash entirely free.

This trifling sum, in prudent hands,

May raise, in time, a fair estate ;
And, truth to say, its silken bands

Are well-constructed to dilate.

JOSEPH BROWN LADD.

515

Allien I fond purse; what though no more

You hold society with me,
May fortune bless thy master's store,

And cram thy sides with many a fee.

For well I ween the marriage state
Full oft thy succour must require,

With gen'rous food to heap the plate-
To crown the glass and feed the fire.

The parson, sure, will ask his hire
For making one who once were two;

And eke, when seasons may require,
For sprinkling round the holy dew.

The licens'd quack, of solemn face,

Of want and pinching times shall tell;

And take a fee, devoid of grace,

For making sick what late was well.

The merchant next,, with craving airs,
Hopes to receive his bill from you ;
Aud, in sarcastic tone, declares,
" He will discharge the balance due."

The landlord, rough, ungen'rous wight,
Proclaims your year and credit spent;
Then swears, occasions [tress so tight,
" He must expect a higher rent."

The tailor, cloth-curtailing rogue,

His long-stretched bill will oft display :

The lingo-prating pedagogue

Shall greet thee ev'ry quarter-day.

The French friseur shall oft complain
Of thirst, of hunger, heat and cold;

And what would best relieve his pain,
I trust you never need be told.

The simp'ring milliner shall prate
Of caps, of stays and negligees:

Then bode, O! purse impending fate,
Whene'er she whispers, if you please.

The cobler, too, when hunger plies,
At madam's foot will lowly bend ;

Admire its shape and handsome size,

And hopes that you will prove Ida friend.

Then honest John comes in to tell.

He longs to drink your worship's health,

And that, your honour knows full well,
Poor servants are not born to wealth.

Next Doll, with ill-affected blush,
Hints how she soon expects to wed;

That cash don't grow on every bush,
Aud that she late was brought to bed.

Then every black that dwells below

In sable order shall arise ;
First beg they may a Pinxt'ring* go,

Then hint the want of fresh supplies.

Now Master Jack or Dick shall come,
And in discordant whine relate,

How the rude boys have broke his drum,
And stole away his other skate.

Start not, my friend, thy better half

Shall join to bear the burden down:
She screams, and tells you, in a laugh,
" The sweetest China's come to town.

* 'Tis true, we should not run in debt ;
But such rare bargains must not pass :
And Mrs. Mayor lias bought a set,
And so have all the better class.

: Whitsuntide, a holiday for servants and slaves.

" And 0 1 my dear, I cannot bear
To miss the family of West;
The ablest connoisseurs declare,
Of all engravings 'tis the best

" Ten guineas only is the price ;

'Twill do to pay the mouey soon:
It is so elegant and nice

To hang in parlour or saloon.

" A harpsichord, at price still lower,
The auctioneer lias now to sell ;
And little Billey* always swore,
My fingers moved divinely well.

" A singing-bird, of tender age,

From India's groves has lately flown :
'Twill match the robin in the cage ;
And birds should never live alone."

"Stop here," you cry, " O wretch profuse!"
Have patience, friend, I scarce begin:
Proceed, and tell, celestial Muse,
The charges of a lying-in I

The accouthcur, in gratitude,

Must be well paid for every boy;

And surely all would deem it rude,
You treat not such as wish you joy.

Panada, caudle, many a cup;

Choice figs and raisins of the sun ;
And cakes of every sort made up —

Pound cake, wiy, wotfal, cruller, bun:

Imperial, souchong, congo teas,

When gossips come to pay their court ;

But bucks will not take up with these;
Be theirs Madeira, Sherry, Port.

Pins, too, in many a shining row;

Caps, bibs, and shoes of crimson skin;
Small ornaments of wond'rous show,

And robes to wrap the infant in.

A cradle to receive the child

When fortune sends a downy nap:

A pious tiurse, of temper mild,
To hush its cries, and get the pap.

Get many a volume neatly bound,
And give the wanton bairn to rear;

Whistles of shrill unpleasing sound,
And coral sticks, the gums to wear.

And next But stop, nor think to count

Uiinumber'd cares, unnumber'd tilings:

First tell the stars, then the amount
Of the vast cost which wedlock brings.

0 ! who in this unfathom'd pit,

In sober sense, would dare to plunge ;

Bun the mad chance of duns and debts,
To rot in jail — to starve — to spunge.

Far better on his luckless throat

A millstone's pond'rous bulk were hung;

Far better, in unmanly note,
He to Italian ears had sung.

JOSEPH BROWN L.VDD.

Josepti Brown Ladd, the son of William and
Sarah Ladd, was born at Newport, R. I., in 1764.
lie received the rudiments of an English educa-
tion, and at the early age of ten produced a few
verses not without merit. In 1775 his father
removed to a farm at Little Compton, which he
cultivated with the assistance of his sons. This
mode of life was distasteful to the young poet

* A teacher of music.

516

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

and would-be student, who was wont to hide
himself away with his books, and on one occa-
sion constructed a retreat in a thicket of alder
bushes, to which he resorted, with his silent com-
pahions, daily for many months without detec-
tion. At the end of three years his father con-
sented to a change, and placed him in a store ;
but this was still more repugnant to his tastes
than the farm. A printing-office was next tried,
where it was supposed his interest in books would
be satisfied. While he was employed in learning
his new trade, a gentleman who had noticed his
literary readiness, suggested to him to write bal-
lads on certain quack doctors in the town. The
success which followed the production of these
satires so elated him, that he shot at higher
game in the person of the celebrated divine, Dr.
Hopkins, minister at Newport. The doctor did not
relish the proceeding, complained to the father
of his assailant, and the incident led to his with-
drawal from the printing-office. In hi? next
change he was allowed to follow the bent of his
inclination, which was to become a physician,
and was placed in the charge of Dr. Isaac Senter.
This gentleman sympathized with the literary
tastes of his pupil, and rendered him good service
by lending him books, and directing his classical
as well as medical studies. During the four years
thus passed, most of his poems were written.
Many of them were addressed, under the signa-
ture of Arouet, to Amanda, a name by which he
designated a young lady to whom he was
attached. She was a young orphan heiress, and
her guardians are charged, by the writer of the
poet's biography prefixed to the collection of his
works in 1832, with throwing obstacles in the
way of the union for the purpose of keeping the
lucrative management of her estate in their own
hands, as the trust was stipulated to terminate
with the marriage of their ward. The lady
favored him if the guardians did not, and they
were privately engaged.

In 1783, General Greene, the revolutionary
hero, returned to Newport, and becoming ac-
quainted with Ladd, who had just completed his
medical education, recommended him to try his
fortune at the south. In pursuance of the advice,
he removed to Charleston, with letters of intro-
duction from his distinguished friend, and was
soon engaged in extensive practice. Here he
also became a contributor to the public pres«, and

Siblished, among other articles, a criticism on
r. Johnson, in which he exposes many of the
doctor's weak points, a daring literary venture
at that period.

In 1785 he was appointed, by Governor Moul-
trie, fourth of July orator at the second celebra-
tion of the day in Charleston, the. first there, or
in any part, it is said, of the country, having been
observed in 1778 by an address by Dr. Ramsay.
In November, 1786, a political controversy in the
newspapers in which he was engaged, led to a
challenge from his opponent, which he felt forced,
by the false public sentiment prevalent in the
community, to accept. He threw away his fire,
but received a wound from his antagonist which
put an end to his life at the age of twenty-two.

His literary remains were collected by his
sister, Mrs. Elizabeth Haskins, of Rhode Island,
and published, with a sketch of the author's life,

by W. B. Chittenden, in 1832, forty-six years
after his death. They consist of the poems to
Amanda of which we have spoken, and a num-
ber of verses on patriotic and occasional topics.

AN INVOCATION TO THE ALMIGnTT. WRITTEN AT THE AGH
OF TEN YEARS.

My God ! the Father of mankind,
Whose bounty all things share;

Let me thy grace my portion find —
All else beneath thy care.

I ask not titles, wealth, or state,

By joyless hearts possessed ;
Yet may I still be rich and great,

If virtue fill my breast.

Let fervent charity remain

Forever in my breast;
Oh ! let me feel another's pain,

In others' joys be blest.

To charity wdthin my breast,

Let steady faith unite ;
Nor let me from thy law depart,

Nor let me live by sight.

With patience fortify my mind,

To bear each future ill ;
In life and death, alike resigned

To thine unerring will.

ODE TO RETIREMENT.

Hail, sweet retirement ! hail !

Best state of man below ;
To smooth the tide of passions frail,

And bear the soul away from scenery of wo.
When retired from busy noise,
Vexing cares, and troubled joys,
To a mild, serener air,
In the country, we repair;
Calm enjoy the rural scene,
Sportive o'er the meadows green.
When the sun's enlivening ray,
Speaks the genial month of May;
Lo ! his amorous, wanton beams,
Lance on yonder crystal streams ;
In soft dalliance pass the hours,
Kissing dew-drops from the flowers;
While soft music through the grove,
Sweetly tunes the soul to love;
And the hills, harmonious round,
Echo with responsive sound.
There the turtle dove alone;
Makes his soft; melodious moan ;
While from yonder bough 'tis heard.
Sweetly chirps the yellow bird :
There the linnet's downy throat,
Warbles the responsive note;
And to all the neighboring groves,
Robin redbreast tells his loves.

There, Amanda, we might walk,
And of soft endearments talk ;
Or, anon, we'd listen, love,
To the gently cooing dove.
In some sweet embowering shade,
Some fair seat by nature made,
I my love would gently place,
On the tender-woven grass;
Seated by thy lovely side,
Oh ! how great would be my pride:
While my soul should fix on thine —
Oh ! the joy to call thee mine.

For why should doves have more delight,
Than we, my sweet Amanda, might?
And why should larks and linnets be
More happy, lovely maid, than wef

SAMUEL LATHAM MITCHILL

517

There the pride of genius blooms,
There sweet contemplation comes;
Tliere is science, heavenly fair;
Sweet philosophy is there.
With each author valued most,
Ancient glory, modern boast :
There the mind may revel o'er
Doughty deeds of days of yore;
How the mighty warriors stood—
How the field was dyed in blood —
How the shores were heaped with dead—
And the rivers streamed with red — ■
While the heroes' souls on flame,
Urged them on to deathless fame :
Or we view a different age,
Pictured in the historic page ;
Kings descending from a throne —
Tyrants making kingdoms groan —
With each care on state allied,
With all the scenery of pride :
Or perhaps we'll study o'er
Books of philosophic lore ;
Read what Socrates has thought,
And how go 1-like Plato wrote ;
Vieiv the earth with Bacon's eyes,
Or with Newton read the skies ;
See each planetary ball,
One great sun attracting all;
All by gravitation held,
Self-attracted, self-repelled :
We shall cheat away old time,
Passing moments so sublime.

Hail, sweet retirement! hail!
Best state of man below;

To smooth the tide of passions frail,

And bear the soul away from scenery of wo.

WHAT IS HAPPINESS ?

'Tis an empty, fleeting shade,

By imagination made ;

'Tis a bubble, straw, or worse ;

'Tis a baby's hobby horse ;

'Tis a little living, clear ;

'Tis ten thousand pounds a year;

'Tis a title ; 'tis a name ;

'Tis a puff of empty fame,

Fickle as the breezes blow ;

'Tis a lady's yes or no :

And when the description's crowned,

'Tis just no inhere to be found.

SAMUEL LATHAM MITCHILL.
Few men have made a more varied and useful
employment of their abilities and acquirements
than this pioneer in American scientific research.
Samuel L. Mitchill was born in North Hempstead,
Queens County, Long Island, August 20, 1764.
He was the third son of a Quaker farmer, and
would probably have received few of the advan-
tages of early education but for the kindness of
his maternal uncle, Dr. Samuel Latham, of the
same village. He was placed by this relative
under the instruction of I)r. Leonard Cutting, a
graduate of Cambridge ("England), and received a
good classical education. He afterwards studied
medicine with Dr. Latham, and in 1780 removed
to New York, to receive the instructions of Dr.
Bard of that city. In 1783 he went to the cele-
brated school of Edinburgh, to complete his
studies. Here he remained nearly four years, the
contemporary at the University of Thomas Addis
Emmet and Sir James Mackintosh, enjoying the

best intellectual society of the eity. After re-
ceiving his diploma, he made a pedestrian tour
through a part of England with his friend William
Dunlap, and then returned to his native country.
He next devoted some time to legal and politi-
cal study under the direction of Robert Yates,
Chief Justice of the State of New York. In
consequence of this connexion he was appointed
(his first public trust) one of the Commissioners
to treat with the Iroquois for a cession of terri-
tory, and was present at the council held at Fort
Stanwix in 1788. In 1790 he was elected a
representative of his native county of Queens in
the Legislature of the State of New York. Li
1792 he received the appointment of professor of
chemistry, natural history, and philosophy, in
Columbia College. He introduced into his in-
struction, for the first time in the United States,
the new nomenclature of Lavoisier, but with a
dissent from some of the principles of that philo-
sopher. This exception involved him in a con-
troversy with Dr. Priestley, which was conducted
with such courtesy and mutual respect that it led
to the warm personal friendship of the combat-
ants. Dr. Mitchill's next public service was the
establishment, in 1793-4, in connexion with
Chancellor Livingston and Simeon De Witt, of
the Society for the Promotion of Agriculture,
Manufactures, and the Useful Arts. He delivered
the first public address before this body, and in
1796 made his report on the Mineralogy of the
State of New York. This was the first work of
the kind undertaken in the United States, and
secured its author a wide reputation in Europe
as well as his own country. It is published in
the first volume of the Medical Repository, a
periodical which was commenced in 1797 by Dr.

^^>i^>i£^^(^^/c^n/^f .

¥>

Mitchill, in connexion with his friends Drs. Ed-
ward Miller and Elihu H. Smith, and of which
he continued editor for more than sixteen years.

518

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

It was a scientific and literary, as well as medical
periodica], and was published in quarterly num-
bers.

On the 23d of June, 1799, Dr. Mitchill was
married to Mrs. Catharine Cock, daughter of
Samuel Akerly. After this event, by which he
became possessed of an ample fortune, he devoted
himself entirely to scientific and public occupa-
tions.

In 1807, on the organization of the College of
Physicians and Surgeons of the City of New
York, he was appointed its first professor of
chemistry, an- office which his political duties
compelled him to decline, he having been elected
in 1800 a member of the House of Representa-
tives, and in 1804 of the Senate of the United
States. After the expiration of his term, in
1809, he was re-elected to the House. He sub-
sequently accepted a professorship of botany and
materia medica, on the re-organization of the in-
stitution in 1820, and discharged its duties until
1826, when, in consequence of difficulties with
the trustees, the entire body of professors resigned.
In addition to the literary, scientific, and political
labors we have mentioned, Dr. Mitchill was an
active member of most of the learned societies
of Europe and America. Numerous papers by
him are included in their Transactions; and he
was often called upon, at the anniversaries of
those of his own city, to appear as their orator.
His multifarious productions are consequently
scattered over a number of separate publications
and collections of pamphlets, and are somewhat
overshadowed by the reputation of the learned
bodies with which they are connected. They
have fallen, to some extent, into an unmerited
oblivion.

His elaborate History of the Botanical Writers
of America maybe found in the collections of the
New York Historical Society. His valuable
work on the Fishes of New York, the scientific
speciality for which he is particularly held in re-
pute, was printed, with illustrations, in the Tran-
sactions of the New York Literary and Philo-
sophical Society.

In addition to these scientific productions, Dr.
Mitchill was the author of an address delivered
at the old Presbyterian Church in Wall street,
May 12, 1795, before the Tammany Society or
Columbian Order, containing a semi-fanciful,
semi-historical account of the famous Indian chief,
the patron saint of the organization ; and of
funeral discourses in honor of Jefferson, Thomas
Addis Emmet, De Witt Clinton, and Dr. Bard.
In the progress of the discourse on Jefferson, he
has a happy remark on the Declaration of Inde-
pendence : " For sententious brevity, strong ex-
pression, and orderly disposition of the topics, the
reading of it always brings to my mind that in-
comparable performance, the Litany of the
Christian Church. In this, miserable sinners in-
voke the Father of Heaven ; in that, suffering
subjects submit facts to a candid world. In the
latter, the One in Three is entreated to spare from
all evil and mischief those who have been re-
deemed; in the former, a worldly prince, for a
continuance of cruelties, is denounced as a tyrant
and unfit to be the ruler of a free people. In the
Litany, the church supplicates blessings and com-
forts from a being willing to grant them ; in the

Declaration, the nation puts at defiance the power
that neither pities nor forgives."

The Tammany address pretends to furnish a
biography of that worthy, who appears to have
been an Indian St. Patrick. It contains an ora-
tion purporting to be delivered by the chief,
which we annex, with a preliminary passage
explaining the circumstances.

The doctor occasionally addressed a few verses
to his wife, embellished the album of a lady peti-
tioner, or translated some Latin, Greek, or Italian
poem which attracted his fancy. He was a fluent
speaker, possessed a pleasant vein of humor, and
presided over the Sour Krout or addressed the
Turtle Club, associations formed for the indul-
gence of gastronomy and hilarity, with the same
acceptability as the Senate or hall of science.
He was fond of society, and was at all times
ready to receive and answer scientific inquiries.
His suavity was often mistaken for acquiescence.
His hospitality to new ideas as well as new comers
occasionally led him into mistakes ; though his
patient attention to the plans of theorizers was
often construed into and reported as an acqui-
escence in views which he was far from adopting.
The doctor was too prominent an object to escape
the shafts of the wits of the day, and they were
not at all backward in availing themselves of the
opportunity. -He probably enjoyed the jokes of
the Croakers and Fanny, as well as the rest of
the town, and sometimes, as in the case of his
early faith in steam navigation,* had the satisfac-
tion of seeing time turn the laugh on his oppo-
nents.

An idea which Mitchill at one time advocated
with considerable ingenuity, was a new name for
the country. Of this there is a record in a pro-
duction in 1804, attributed to his pen — An Ad-
dress to the Fredes or People of the United States,
on the 28th anniversary of their independence. A
parenthesis on the title-page of this brief pamphlet
further explains the designation. "The modern
and appropriate name of the people of the United
States is Fredes or Fredonians, as the geographi-
cal name of their country is Fredon or Fredonia,
and their relations are expressed by the terms
Fredonian or Fredish." The address is in verse,
and celebrates the blessings enjoyed by America
in the fruits of its Revolution, the establishment
of the Constitution, and the general progress of
civilization, particularly in the extension of light-
houses and the post-office. The idea of Mitchill
was to provide a peculiar designation, a national
name for the people of the United States. Apa-
lachian, Alleghanian, and other terms have been
also projected to meet the same supposed want;
and a few years since there was a debate on the
topic in the New York Historical Society ; but if
ever the matter was seriously thought of it has
quite rapidly been rendered unnecessary by the
growth of the country, in filling up to so great an
extent the geographical limits of the appellation
now universally awarded of American. Mitchill,
who, like father Shandy, had a theory of names,
was ingenious in hitting upon Fredonia, a term
suggestive at once of a generous idea, and of such

* Mitchill was a warm and influential advocate, in the Legis-
lature, in the face of much ridicule and opposition, of the act
passed in 179S. which conferred on Livingston and Fulton the
exclusive right to navigate the waters of Kew York by steam.

SAMUEL LATHAM MITCHILL.

519

readily grammatical adaptation as a noun and ad-
jective in Frede and Fredish.*

One of the social gatherings of the doctor's
day was styled the Krout Club. It was composed
of descendants of the original settlers of the city
of New York, who met together to eat a dinner
" after the maimer of the ancients " of Holland.
Cabbage in various culinary forms was a leading
ingredient of the feast, and it was customary,
after the election of a presiding officer, to crown
him with a cabbage head neatly scooped out, and
place on his shoulders a mantle composed of the
leaves of the same respected esculent. Dr. Hit-
chill accepted an invitation, on one occasion, in
1322, to one of these dinners, and being chosen
Crand Krout, delivered the following address,
while arrayed in the insignia of his office, har-
monizing happily with the sportive character of
the occasion :

This association owes its origin to our venerable
and festive ancestry. The cabbage is its emblem,
and a good symbol it is. The Bourbons displayed
their exalted lily, and the Bouapartes their humble
violet. The pine tree gave character to the money
coined before the revolution in Massachusetts, and
the white rose and red rose distinguished the parties
of York and Lancaster as they formerly existed in
England. The Scotch are proud of their thistle, the
Irish of their shamrock, and the Welsh of their
leek.

The virtues of the cabbage surpass all these, and
are worthy of the highest eulogium. The plant
belongs to the natural family of the antiscorbutics.
It is capable of purifying the blood, and of rectify-
ing the humors. Whether eaten raw or boiled, or
after preparation in our excellent way of Sour
Krout, the article is worthy of particular commenda-
tion. The sherris-sack celebrated by Falstatf is, not-
withstanding its extraordinary virtues, far inferior
to Krout. I recommend to all Scurvy feltbws,
wherever they may be, a course of this sovereign
remedy to make them sound and whole. '

Great exertions are made by gardeners and farm-
ers to cultivate the precious vegetable in large
quantity and of good quality. Their industry is
stimulated by the premiums of patriotic societies.
They do well in granting such premiums. Its nutri-
tious and succulent leaves increase the cow's mea-
sure of milk ; which when mingled with eggs gives
us custards, with isinglass regales us with blane
mange, and when converted into butter ministers to
our taste and luxury in an hundred ways.

Best member in the family of Brasslca ! salu-
brious is the employment and sweet the reward of
rearing thee, of tending thee and preparing thee for
the mouth and the stomach!

Moral, and sober, and industrious are the persons
who are devoted to thee ! Thou impartest strength
to the muscles, sensibility to the nerves, and integri-
ty to the brain. The social principle is safe in thy
keeping. Thy constitution is such that ardent and
intoxicating drink cannot be prepared from thee.
Thou sustainest without exhausting, and invigoratest
without depression. Thy votaries here present give
evidence in their looks and conduct, how admirably

* A year or two later, in 1806, Fessenden, in the notes to his
J/o&oeme.y, has this repudiation of the term: " Fredonia is a
cant phrase, which eerta'n small poets or prosaic scribblers, we
forget which, would have us adopt as an appellation to desig-
nate the United States of America. At a time like this, when
misrule and licentiousness aie me order of the day, there can
be but little propriety in coining new phrases to enrich the vo-
cabulary of sedition.

thou conducest to innocent recreation and to festive
joy. Thy name lias been abused, as if to cabbage
were to pilfer or steal. I repel witli indignation this
attempt to sully thy fame.

Dr. Mitchill also addressed the Turtle Club, an
association of the " solid men " of the city, who
assembled in a grove atHoboken to increase their
solidity by a plentiful repast on the aldermanic
dainty. After a learned, scientific, and classical
dissertation on the testudo, natural, military, and
mythological, he continues : —

With so many excellent and memorable qualities,
it is by no means a circumstance of marvel, that the
name of a feathered favorite should have been trans-
ferred to this amphibious creature. The resident
of the groves, where the leafy foresters staud close
enough to exclude piercing sunshine, and where the
domestic locust trees (robinia), limetrees (tilia), and
tulip trees (liriodendron), stretch out their arms as it
were to welcome those exotics the poplars from the
Po, and the willows from the Euphrates, to become
joint tenants with them, the Love has been obliged
to surrender a part of her title, and by an odd per-
version of language, the Turtle means the cooing
bird of Fredonia, and also the four-footed reptile of
Bahama.

From the extraordinary and multifarious functions
of this oviparous quadruped, a riddle was composed
by the witty Symposius, propounding the question
whether that living existence was a beast, a fish, or
a harp, as you may read in his collection of enigmas.

After a statement of these particulars, I feel more
than ordinary satisfaction in observing that some of
the nations of the south regard the green tortoise as
a sacred object; a peculiar gift of the Great Master
of Breath. Certain of them have proceeded so far
under this persuasion, as to denominate him the i'i.sA
of God, or, in the dialect of the French colonists,
Poisson de Dicu. The correct and honest indigenes
ascribe to the soup, or in other words the decoction
of its flesh, swallowed after a venomous draught has
been received into the stomach, the most astonishing
effects as an antidote or counter poison.

What more shall I say on this head? Why, truly,
that this exquisite preparation surpasses all the other
compounds of the kitchen and the shop. Perhaps
there is no other known that possesses in so eminent
a degree the properties both of food and medicine.
It is an aliment of the most palatable and nutritious
kind ; so elaborated by coction in the cauldron, that
very little digestion in the stomach is necessary. It
assimilates with our nature, and becomes part and
parcel of our living frame more readily than almost
any other substance ; subduing crudities, rendering
the humors bland, and promoting good humor and
hilarity to an extraordinary degree. It begets
amenity and suavity of temper. It diminishes the
proueuess to give and to take offence, and I proclaim
the information to the universe that no quarrel be-
tween the members has ever arisen upon this hal-
lowed spot, rendering a settlement necessary by
single combat.

Nor are its virtues less prominent as a prophylac-
tic, or preventer of disease. Come hither, all ye
lean and tabid sufferers ! Ye who are wasted by
atrophy and emaciation! and ye who are lingering
with hectic fever and king's evil! Approach, I say,
and receive the benefit of a panacea incomparably
better than the boasted balsams which occupy
columns of the gazettes. Invitation is hereby in
like manner given to all who are in jeopardy from
malignant disorders, whether engendered from mor-
bid distemperature within the. system, or through a
sickly commixture of the atmospheric elements, or

520

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

by the introduction of a virus from a foreign place.
Know, ye supporters of imported contagion in the
yellow fever, that the tropical latitudes, which are
accused of sending us the bane, must be allowed the
credit of forwarding likewise the remedy.

It has been regretted by some persons of taste,
that the Tortoise, like the turtle, is not furnished
with wings ; those nimble members, which convert
a child into a Cupid, a horse into a Pegasus, a per-
sonified breeze into a Zephyr, and loose words into
a compact sentence.* The fancy of the poet and
the colouring of the painter ma}', however, supply
this defect. Imagination may thus be strengthened
to conceive how the supporter of men and things
shall soar from the element on which he has floated
time immemorial, and give us a flight through space,
combining the velocity of a meteor with the eccen-
tricity of a comet, or transporting the whole of his
ponderous charge in a way that the ingenious and
inventive Greeks never comprehended, to the region
of perfect beatitude.

The most celebrated of Dr. Mitchill's poetical
productions are his translations of the third and
fifth of the Piscatory Eclogues (five in number)
of Sannazarius, a Neapolitan .pastoral poet 01' the
age of Leo X. De Witt Clinton, in a note to his
address before the Literary and Philosophical So-
ciety, gives the first of these as a " literary curi-
osity " of interest in connexion with the Doctor's
investigations on ichthyology, and follows with the
second, as " procured from Dr. Mitchill by the
editor." The first is a dialogue between Celadon,
Mopsus, Chronus, and Mas, four fishermen, who
extol the charms of their mistresses, Chloris and
Nisa, by similes drawn from their occupation.
In the second, the punishment indicted by an en-
chantress, Herpylis, upon Mceon, a faithless swain
who had deserted a maiden and thus driven her
mad, and the passion of Thelgon for the unpitying
nymph Galatea, are dwelt upon.

Similes like the following hit Mitchill's fancy :-

With weeping dewy wet this spunge appears;
Oh sea-grown spunge imbibe my copious tears;
And as thy thirsty pores the drops inhale,
Ma3''st thou ungrateful Mceon's breast assail."

Revolve, thou wheel, my bands pursue your
race,

And whirl, 0 spindle, with a hurried pace.

The pumice fattens as the waves subside,
That toss'd by winds, convey'd it far and wide;
But how can I, oppress'd by poignant grief,
From empty words and moaning, hope relief?
And all tiie wrongs by graceless Moeon done
Shall I content repay in words alone?

Revolve, thou wheel, my bands pursue your
race,

And whirl, 0 spindle, with a hurried pace.

In the following poems he has also shown his
affection for his favorite sciences.

ELEGY ON A SHELL — TUE NAUTILUS!

I saw thee, beauteous form,
As late I walked the oceanic strand,
And as my curiosity was warm,

I took thee in my hand.
Soon I discovered, a terrific storm,

Which nothing human could command,
Had robbed thee of thy life and east thee on the
sand.

* Ettccl Urzpoci'ra, wlrjged words.

Thou wast a house with many chambers fraught,

Built by a Nautilus or Argonaut,

With fitness, symmetry, and skill,

To suit the owner's taste and sovereign will.

In curves of elegance thy shape appears,
Surpassing art through centuries of years,
By tints and colours brilliant made,
And all, — the finished workman has displayed.

In life thy home was near Manilla's shore,
Where on the bottom groves of coral grow,
And when aweary of thy seat below,

Thee and thy architect the flood uplifted bore.

Then on the surface of the placid wave,
With guiding oars and elevated sail,
Thou didst enjoy the pleasure-breathing gale,

And hi the sea thy healthy body lave.

To thee allied is many a splendid shell,
In wdiich a fair Mollusax used to dwell,
Such as the Harpa, marked with chorded signs,
The Musica, witli imitative lines,
The Cowry, with its spots and figures gay,
The Cone, distinguished by its rich array,
The smooth Volute, that glossy beauty bears,
The prized Scalaria, with its winding stairs,
The Murex, famous for its purple dye,
The Trochua, dressed to captivate the eye,
And Buccinum and Strombus, taught to sound
Their signal notes to every region round.

These sorts and more, through rich museums spread,
Are vacant dwellings, and their tenants dead,
And though there's not an occupant alive,
The well cemented tenements survive.
So man erects in sumptuous mode
A structure proud for his abode,
But knows not, when of life bereft,
Who'll creep within the shell he left.

PYTnAGOBAS AND SAPPHO, OE THE DIAMOND AND TIIE K03E.

Long time ago, 'tis well expressed,

• Pythagoras the seer

This question artfully addressed

To beauteous Sappho's ear :
"When hence thou shalt be forced to flee,

By transmigration's power,
Wouldst thou indeed prefer to be

A jewel or a flower?"

Tlie Lesbian maid these words returne 1
To greet the Snmiaii sage,
"For gems my taste has never burned,
And flowers my choice engsge.

"The glittering stones, though lich a:;d rare,
IS'o animation know,
While vegetables fine and fair
With vital action glow.

"The senseless gem no pleasure moves,
Displayed in fashion's use,
But flowers enjoy their gentle loves,
And progeny produce.

"Then when I shall surmount," she cried,
" Rude dissolution's storm,
Oh ! let me not be petrified,
But wear a living form.

" Those matchless rays the diamond shows,
Witli promptness I decline,

That I may dwell within the rose
And make its blossoms mine."

One of the doctor's literary amnsements was
the preparation of a pamphlet of eight pages,
bearing the title, " Some of the Memorable Events

SAMUEL LATHAM MITCHILL.

521

and Occurrences in the Life of Samuel L. Mitchill,
of New York, from the year 1786 to 1827." It
is a chronological enumeration of one hundred
and ninety-two distinct items of the achievements
and associations of his active career. We select
a portion of the record.

1. Returns from Europe with the diploma of M.D-
from Edinburgh, obtained in 1786 — after having
heen initiated into the mysteries of Free Masonry,
in the Latin Lodge of the Eoman Eagle, by the
famous Joannes Bruno — 1787.

2. Visits Saratoga Springs while surrounded by
the forest, and ascertains experimentally, that the
gas extricated from the water was fixed air, with
the power to extinguish tlame, destroy the life of
breathing animals, <fcc. 1787.

4. Walks with Josiah Ogden Hoffman, "William
Dunlap, Joseph Hunt and others, in the very grand
procession for celebrating the adoption of the Con-
stitution of the United States, under the guidance of
Col. Richard Piatt, directing the place for the Philo-
logical Society— 1788.

5. Attends the Treaty at Fort Schuyler, by which
the Mingos. or Five Nations of Indians, sold the great
Western District to the people of New York, and
subscribed the deed as a witness — 1788. Receives
personal names from the Oneidas and Onondagas.

11. Exerts himself to form a Library in the town
upon Long Island, where he was born, under the
name of the " North Hempstead Library Associa-
tion;" which still subsists and improves — 1791.

17. Exhibits at full length, in a printed Essay, the
actual state of learning in Columbia College — 1794

19. Makes a detailed report to the Agricultural
Society, of his geological and mineralogical observa-
tions during a tour performed at their request, to
the banks of the Hudson for Coal, <fec. — December,
1796 — a performance respectfully quoted by Count
Volney.

20. Member of the Assembly for the City and
County of New-York, witli Messrs. Fairlie, Hunt,
Arcularius, Clinton, Burr, Swartwout, Storm, Robins,
and Warner — April, 1797.

26. Makes the famous motion about the sixth
Levitical commandment, in the House of Assembly
at Albany, requiring citizens to labour six days, as
we'd as refrain from it on the seventh — February,
1798. (See Journal of the House.)

29. Delivers the Anniversary Discourse to the
assembled citizens on the National Festival, in the
Presbyterian Church, Bcekman-street — July 4, 1799.

31. Publishes a chart of Chymical Nomenclature
with an explanatory memoir; in which he contends
that metals in their ductile and malleable state are
compounds of a base with hydrogen (phlogiston) ; as
in their calciform state they consist of a base with
oxygen : and that in several there is an intermediate
condition, in which there is no union either with
hydrogen or oxygen. He extended the same doc-
trine to the greater part of inflammable bodies —
1801.

34. Corresponds with Albert Gallatin, Secretary
of the Treasury, on the project for illuminating the
Light Houses of the United States witli inflammable
air— April 30, 1S02. (5 Med. Rep. p: 463—465.)

56. Translates from the Latin Lancisi's book on
the noxious exhalations of Marshes, at Washington,
during the winter of 1806-7 — afterwards printed in
the Medical Repository.

59. Writes the introduction to the American Edi-
tion of Assalini's Observations on the Plague, Dysen-
tery, and Ophthnlmy of Egypt, published by T. & J.
Swords, at New-York — 1806.

71. Performs with Robert Fulton the first voyage
in a Steam-Boat — August, 1S08.

73. At the request of the College, delivers a public
Eulogy upon Professor Rush, one of the most dis-
tinguished of Fredonian citizens, and his worthy
friend.

76. Visits Upper Canada, and describes the Mine-
ralogy of Niagara Falls — Summer, 1809.

87. Brings up for adoption, by the House of Re-
presentatives, a report favourable to the nascent
nations of Spanish America, and full of good wishes
towards them, in their exertions to become free and
independent — December 11, 1811.

89. Visits West Point, and writes the History of
memorable occurrences there, and of the Military
Academy — May, 1812.

90. Visits his friend George Clinton, during his
last illness, at the seat of government : and after his
death, as Vice-President, acts as a member of the
joint committee of the two Houses of Congress to
superintend his funeral obsequies — 1812.

91. Visits Harper's Ferry, and describes the Geo-
logy of the Scenery where the Potomac and Shenan-
doah have forced their passages through the Blue
Mountain — July 4, 1812.

97. Acts as a Commissioner under the Navy
Department of the United States, for constructing a
Floating Battery, or heavy vessel of war, to defend
the coasts and harbours of the United States : asso-
ciated with Messrs. H. Rutgers, Th. Morris, Oliver
Wolcott, and H. Dearborn, agents ; with R. Fulton
as engineer, and A. & N. Brown as constructors —
1813-14.

102. Labours jointly with his patriotic neighbours,
with mattock and shoveJ, in the trenches, for several
days, to erect fortifications against the enemy —
1814.

103. Acts with Hosack and Williamson in laying
the foundation of a Literary and Philosophical
Society in New-York — 1S15. Reads a detailed nar-
rative of the Earthquakes in the United States, and
in foreign parts, during 1811, '12, and '13. Offers to
the same a description and classification of 166 species
of Fish, chiefly found in the fresh and salt waters
adjacent to the City of New York ; upwards of 40
additional species were described in Bigelow and
Holly's Magazine, and several more in the Journal of
the Philadelphia Academy of Natural Sciences.

106. As a member of a- Committee, joins his
friends in petitioning the Common Council for a
grant of the building in the North Park, for the
purposes of Literature, Science, and Arts.

107. Pronounces a public Lecture in explanation
of Somnium, or Dream, as a state different both
from wakefulness and sleep — November, 1815.

117. Makes an excursion to the region watered
by the Walll.ill, with his friend Silvanus Miller, and
at Chester they and their companions' succeed in
disinterring a mammoth — August, 1817.

118. Joins Captain Partridge, and other friends, in
an excursion to the Neversink Hills, near Sandy
Hook, and aids in correcting a dangerous mistake
in their altitude, which is in reality not half so
great (less than 300 feet) as had been commonly
supposed (600 feet).

122. Brevet from his Excellency De Witt Clinton,
LL.D., Governor of New-York, Captain General, &c.
for the office of Surgeon General to the Militia of
the Commonwealth — August 5, ISIS.

128. Vice-President of the District Convention,
which met at Philadelphia, for preparing a National
Pharmacopoeia, whereof Thomas Parke was Presi-
dent, and Lyman Spaulding Secretary — June 1,
1S19.

131. Acts with Samuel Wood and Garret K.

522

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Lawrence, in recommending to the public the
Willow-leaved Meadow-Sweet, or Spiraea Salici-
folia of North America, as an admirable article for
refreshment and health, and as a substitute for the
tea of China— July, 1819.

147. Receives a splendid Diamond Ring from the
Emperor of all the Russias, brought by Captain
Josiah Barker, through Mr. Pinckney, the American
Charge d' Affaires at St. Petersburgh, pursuant to the
request of the Minister, Count Nesselrode — May 23,
1821.

151. Delivers the Annual Oration to the Phi-
Beta-Kappa Society of Union College, Schenectady
—July 24, 1821.

156. Gives the public introductory Lecture in the
College of Physicians, &c. on the life and writings
of their late President Samuel Bard, by appointment
of the Trustees — November 5, 1821.

168. Pronounces a Philosophical Discourse in St.
Stephen's Chapel, Bowery, to the class formed in
that Congregation for cultivating the Natural and
Physical Sciences ; under the auspices of the Rector,
Dr. Feltus — December 27, 1822.

170. Pronounces a Discourse on the Life and
Writings of Sir Charles Linnseus, before the learned
and fashionable collection of citizens who assembled
at Prince's justly celebrated Botanical Garden in
Flushing, on May 24, 1823, the anniversary of the
illustrious Swede's birth-day.

172. On an invitation from Albany and a mission
from New- York, performs, after the Venetian
example, the ceremony of marrying the Lakes to
the Ocean, at Albany, on the day of the unprece-
dented gathering of the people to witness the scene
of connecting the Western and Northern Canals with
the River Hudson — October 8, 1823.

175. Acts with William Bayard, Charles King,
Charles Wilkes, and a most respectable body of
other gentlemen, in a general Committee to receive
for and remit to the Greeks of the Morea and else-
where, the money contributed voluntarily by the
Citizens of the United States, to aid them in their
efforts to free themselves from the dominion of the
Turks and to establish an independence of their
own — a season of particular excitement among all
ranks — Feb. 7, 1824.

184. Acts with Richard Riker, Jacob Morton, R.
E. Mount, and others, on a central committee for cele-
brating the completion. of the Western Canal ; and in
the vicinity of Sandy Hook, pronounces an address on
the introduction of the Lady of the Lake to the
estate of her spouse the Lord of the Ocean — Nov. 4,
1825.

186. August 29th, delivers the Anniversary Dis-
course to the Horticultural Society, which was pub-
lished by request.

157. September 3, publishes by desire of the
Lyceum, a Catalogue of the Geological Articles and
Organic Remains which he presented to their
Museum, in a pamphlet of forty pages.

189. October 11th, pronounces before the Lyceum,
a funeral discourse, by appointment, on Thomas
Jefferson, one of its honorary members ; which was
printed.

Dr. Mitchill died at his residence in the city of
New York, September 7, 1831. A beautiful
monument was placed over his remains, removed
several years after his death to Greenwood Ceme-
tery, by his widow. The chief portion of his
extensive cabinet of minerals, valued at $10,000,
was presented by the same lady to the Lyceum
of Natural History. His biography was com-
menced and nearly completed by his brother-in-

law Dr. Akerly ;* but still remains in manuscript,
a circumstance to be regretted, as its completion
and publication would have reflected honor on its
author as well as subject.

SPEECH OP TA3IHANT.

As the eeeonomical and political system of our
legislator, were thus progressing to perfection, news
was brought by the young hunters, that a body of
strangers was approaching; that their dress, man-
ners, and language, differed from every thing seen
in those parts before; and that with tokens of peace
and friendship, they waited respectfully at a distance,
until they should be invited to advance. They
had, it was said, presents of great number and value
to offer, and intelligence of an important nature, to
communicate to the chief of the Tammanites.

They were instantly conducted in a plain, but
hospitable manner to the castle: enough of food,
and drink, was set before them ; and the best dress-
ed skins and the cleanest mats were offered them to
repose upon.

They then related the errand on which they
were sent : saying, they were the messengers of
Manco Capac, the great Inca of Peru, and the
descendant of the Smi ; that their Chief in deep
admiration and love for the character of Tammany,
had dispatched them, in order to testify the same,
and intreat the favor of an interview; that their
prince ardently wished to consult him on a form of
government he was about to establish for the Peru-
vian nation ; that the ornaments of gold and silver,
the suits of fine and costly clothing, and various
other natural and artificial productions of their
country, were brought along as a friendly donation;
which they prayed he would vouchsafe to accept ;
— and concluded with informing, that if he could
accommodate their anxious prince in this particular,
Mexico, a castle, nearly equi-distant from both
was pitched upon, on their part, as the place of
meeting.

Tammany was deeply affected with this extraor-
dinary message, but before concluding upon the
journey to the south, he called a general meeting of
his people, and informed them of the honor done
him, by the Inca. He expressed some desire, at first,
to accept the invitation ; but the concern for the
nation, to which he belonged, quickly extinguished
every idea of carrying it into effect, " for as I live,
not for myself," said lie, " but for my people, I must
not sacrifice their welfare, to the gratification of my
individual curiosity."

The Embassy of Manco Capac was about to de-
part, without succeeding in their business, when
upon the suggestion of the considerate old men, and
prudent matrons, that his journey might be attend-
ed with great benefit to mankind, Tammany witli
their consent and approbation, which was at length,
though reluctantly sanctioned, by all the tribes of
the nation, determined with an accompanyment, of
twenty chosen young men, to undertake the journey,
and have a talk with the illustrious Sachem of the
Andes. Previous to his departure, however, he
invited all his people to come together, and range
themselves by tribes, before him. And ns he did
not, like the equivocating Lycurgus, intend to make
them promise to observe his instructions, until his
return, and then go into voluntary exile, and die in
a foreign land; he delivered a few sententious pre-
cepts to each. They were as true and practical as

*Dr. Samuel Akerly (lied at Staten Island July 6, 1846, in
the sixtieth year of his age. lie wrote much on scientific and
medical topics In the journals, and took an active part iu the
humanitarian efforts of his day.

SAMUEL LATHAM MITCHILL

523

ever Athens heard ; and were the result of his wis-
dom, and experience, in drawing useful lessons from
the animals who tenanted the forests. The tribes
rose one by one, as he addressed them. Old Nestor
himself, from whose lips, words of liquid sweetness
fell trickling, was not heard with more attention and
silence, than our American Sage ; nor did Solomon,
in all his glory, when he directed sluggards to learn
the ways of the ant, and be wise, interpret nature in
a more happy maimer:

Children of the first tribe!*

The eagle should be your model. He soars above
the clouds, loves the mountain tops, takes a broad
survey of the country round, and his watch-
fulness in the day time lets nothing escape him.
From him learn to direct your thouglits to elevated
objects, to rise superior to the fogs of prejudice and
passion, to behold in the clear atmosphere of reason
all things in their true light and posture; and never
expose yourselves to be surprized, while the sun
shines in a tit of drowsiness or slumber.
Children of the second tribe !

The tyger affords a useful lesson for you. The ex-
ceeding agility of this creature, the extraordinary
quickness of his sight, and above all, his discriminat-
ing power in the 'lark, teach you to be stirring and
active in your respective callings, to look sharp to
every engagement you enter into; and to let neither
misty days, nor gloomy nights, make you lose sight
of the worthy object of your pursuit.
Children of the third tribe !

You are to pay attention to the good qualities of
the deer. He possesses uncommon readiness of hear-
ing, can judge of sounds at a great distance, and
where danger threatens, and a retreat is advisable,
ean force his passage surprizingly through the thick-
ets, or even make his escape across the lakes and
rivers by swimming.

In like manner, open ye your ears to whatever is
passing; collect the substance of distant rumors;
and learn before danger surrounds your corn-fields
and wigwams, what is going on at a distance. Thus
shall you be forewarned, and prepared against
calamity from abroad ; and if it thickens and
threatens you with irresistible force, you will know
how to avoid, with prudence, what you could not
oppose with success.

Children of the fourth tribe!

There is one quality of the wolf, to which I re-
quest your attention. His wide extent of nostrils,
catches the atoms floating in the air, and gives him
notice of the approach of his prey, or his foe. Thus,
when power grows rank, and like a contagion, sends
abroad its pestilent steams, I see the wolf-like myr-
midons of Tammany, the first to rouse, turn round
their heads, and suuff oppression in every tainted
breeze.

Children of the fifth tribe I

You, my children, are to take useful hints from
the buffaloe. He is one of the strongest animals of
the wilderness; but strong as he is, he loves the
company of his kind, and is not fond of venturing
alone, upon distant excursions. This is wise in the
buffaloe, and wise will it be in you to imitate him.

It will, indeed, be your duty to acquire, by hunt-
ing, swimming, running, and all other manly ex-
ercises, great bodily vigor, and personal strength.
But it will be ridiculous to value yourselves highly
on these ; a fall, a cramp, or a sprain, hut too fre-
quently disables an individual ; and then, if he is

* Tin- Tammany Society is divided into thirteen tribes ; cor-
responding to the number of states in tbe Union, when the
society was instituted; and each tribe bears the name of an
animal according to tbe Indian method.

alone in the woods, he may perish for want of help.
Operate in concert, stand together, support each
other, and you will be a mountain, that nobody can
move; fritter down your strength in divisions, be-
come the sport of parties, let wigwam be divided
against wigwam, you will be an ant-hill, which a
baby can kick over.

Tammany told them, that disharmony would
terminate in their ruin ; and in union consisted their
salvation ; and impressed his people with the truth
of it, as forcibly as ever xEsop inculcated the same
doctrine, by his celebrated fable of the sticks.
Children of the sixth tribe I

That social and valuable creature, the dor/, affords
something for you to profit by. The warmth of his
attachment, the disinterestedness of his friendship,
and the unchangeableness of his fidelity, mark him
as the object of your kindness and imitation. Oh!
my children, I weep for the faithlessness, the false-
hood, and the deceit of man! Do but love each
other with half the warmth, sincerity, and steadi-
ness, with which these your constant hunting com-
panions love you all ; and happiness, comfort, and
joy will make your land their dwelling-place, and
ye shall experience all the pleasure, that human
nature ean bear.

Children of the seventh tribe!

You are to take a pattern from the beaver. His
industry merits your observance. His perseverance
claims your regard. His judgment, in the choice of
a place for him to live in, demands your considera-
tion. Like him, you are to avail yourselves of natural
advantages, and opportunities in all cases ; and to
superadd to these your manual improvements, and
works of art. In the pursuit of your industrious
project, no difficulty should deter, no obstacle dis-
courage you. Forests must be cleared, hills leveled,
rivers turned, to accomplish your plans ; and land
and water be made to afford their joint aid, in pio-
moting your undertaking ; labour and perseverance
overcome every thing ; — for I have heard the old
people say, their ancestors assisted in making the
sun light, and immense as he appears, by collecting
into a heap, all the fire-flies, and glow-worms they
could find ; and the moon, whose light is fainter, and
size smaller, was in like manner formed, by their
gathering into a pile all the fox-fire, or phosphoric
rotten wood, they could procure.
Children of the eighth tribe !

The squirrel, my children, offers somewhat profit-
able to you. It is his practice, as he has a foresight
of winter, to collect acorns, chestnuts, and walnuts,
and carry them in large quantities to .his hole; and
these thus treasured up, supply him with nourish-
ment during the stormy season, when after the fall
of the leaf, it would be dangerous to venture far
abroad. In like manner it becomes you to look for-
ward to old age, the winter of life, and have some
provision ready to help yourselves with, at that
needy time. You cannot labour to equal advantage
every day ; it is therefore your duty to collect some-
thing ahead, and lay it by in store against the pinch-
ing severity of an unproductive season. This you
may enjoy by your fire-sides, while all around you
the frost rends the trees asunder, and the white
powder lies so thick upon the ground, that you can-
not venture out without your snow-shoes^
Cutldren of the ninth tribe!

You are to learn a lesson of caution from ihefox.
He looks well before him as he travels, examines
carefully the ground he treads upon, and takes good
care that his enemies come not on him by surprize.
By reason of his wariness, he is not easily led into
a stratagem, and when entangled, by his contrivance,
is very successful in making his escape. Thus may

524

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

you proceed in your business with circumspection,
examine all tilings around you with prudence, and
never suffer the artifices of the deceiver to entrap
you unawares. Such keen examination will guard
you from difficulties, and if in the course of nature,
you should be, in spite of all this, beset by them,
nothing will more effectually enable you to extricate
yourselves.

Children of the tenth tribe !

The Tortoise, who supports on his back the world
we inhabit, offers a world of instruction to you.
Was it not for his benevolence in keeping afloat on
the immense ocean in which he swims, this land we
inhabit would soon go to the bottom. Ami the dis-
pleasure he feels when men lead lives of idleness
and vice, when they quarrel and injure their neigh-
bours, or neglect their families, has induced him
more than once to dip a part of his shell under the
waters, and drown a set of wretches no longer fit to
live. In other cases, where he wished rather to
terrify than to extirpate, the angry movements of
his body have caused distressful earthquakes, which
have made our vallies to tremble, and have rocked
our mountains from their foundations. Let the
winds blow from what quarter they list, let the
storm and the tempest howl, he withdraws from their
fury, and wraps himself up securely in his impene-
trable coat. His moderation, for he possesses none
of that feverish fretfulness, which shortens life,
secures to him great length of days. His temper-
ance, for he does not waste his vital energy in
frolicks and carousing, gives him an animation so
quick and inherent in every joint and member, that
it is difficult to kill him. If then you wish to at-
tain to long life, and possess sensibility and comfort
while it lasts, imitate the virtues of the tortoise, for
so shall you be protected with armour less vulner-
able than his shell, or your our own shields of bark
and hides, and arrive to good old age without danger
of earthquakes or inundations.

Children of the eleventh tribe !

I recommend to your attention the wholesome
counsel derived to man from the Eel. He was never
known to make a noise or disturbance in the world,
norspeak an ungentle sentence to any living creature.
Slander never proceeded from his mouth, nor does
guile rest under his tongue. He forms his plans in
silence, carries them into effect without tumult, and
glides and slips along through life in a most easy and
gentle course. Are you desirous, my children, of
modest stillness and quiet? Do you wish for the
uuenvied condition of retirement and humility ?
Would you like to live peaceably among men in the
uninterrupted pursuit of your business, without at-
tracting the broad stare of the surrounding crowd?
If such are your desires, learn a lesson of wisdom
from the Eel ; who although he knows neither his
birth nor parentage, but is east an orphan upon
creation, yet shows by his strength and his numbers,
the excellence of the mode of life he has chosen.
Children of the twelfth tribe!

I shall point out for your improvement some ex-
cellent traits of character in the Bear, He is dis-
tinguished for his patient endurance of those incon-
veniences which he finds it impossible to ward off.
When frost and snow, with all their chilling horrors,
surround him in winter, he learns to live with a
smaller degree of heat than he did before ; and by
aid of his furry-skin protects himself as well as he
can from the rigor of the season. When from these
causes his supplies of nourishment are cut off, and
little or nothing is to be obtained to satisfy the
cravings of hunger, he endures with resolution the
calamities which await him, until the foodful season
shall arrive. Thus, when scarcity threatens your

country with famine — when diseases among the
beasts strew your hunting grounds with carcases —
when insects destroy the stalks of your beans, and
worms corrode the roots of your corn — when the
streams refuse their accustomed supplies of fish —
when hurricanes and hail lay waste your plantations
— or when the clouds withhold their stores of rain —
what is to be done ? Why certainly, when every
effort has been tried in vain, and discouraged and
spiritless you lay you down, lay not yourselves down
to die ; but bear with patience and resignation what-
ever necessity imposes upon you, make the allow-
ance of your meal correspond to your stock of pro-
vision ; and if you have but little, contrive with all
your skill to make that little do. Show yourselves
men, for it is adversity that gives scope to great
talents, by enabling you to endure with fortitude
what your best directed efforts have failed to sur-
mount.

Children of the thirteenth tribe !

I call your attention to the order and economy of
the Bee. You observe among these creatures a dis-
cipline not surpassed by anything the woods afford.
The community is like yourselves, divided into
tribes, and each has its allotted employment. Hours
of labor, of refreshment, and of rest are assigned,
and each member is obedient to the summons of
duty. Idlers, vagrants, and embezzlers of the public
property have no toleration there ; and it seems to
be a pretty well established maxim, with but few
exceptions, among them, that he who works not shall
have nothing to eat. Regularity and method per-
vades every department of a government, whose un-
wearied inhabitants in their flights to distant places,
possess the singular secret of extracting honey
from nauseous and fetid blossoms, and of collecting,
without injury to any one, the whole sweets of the
surrounding country, in their own inimitable com-
monwealth.

Borrow from the Bees an idea of arrangement in
business ; of the importance of system to make mat-
ters go on aright, of the advantage accruing from
an accurate division and distribution of labor ; of
the equity causing every one to contribute his share
to the support of the general weal, or be precluded
from participating its benefits and blessings. And
above all, derive from their instructive example,
that alchemy of mind, which by an operation some-
what analogous to the production of nectar from
venom, converts private failings into public advan-
tages, and makes even crimes and vices ultimately
conducive to good.

BEOW^ TJXIVEESITY.
TnE College of Rhode Island had its origin in
the conception and personal exertions of the Rev.
James Manning, a clergyman of the Baptist
faith, a native of New Jersey, and graduate of
Princeton, who visited Newport in 1763, for the
purpose of securing to his brethren the influence
of the Baptists, then in the government, for the
establishment of a learned institution in the in-
terests of their denomination. A meeting of
friends of the undertaking assembled at the house
of Colonel Gardiner, the Deputy Governor; a
plan was proposed, and the work set in pro-
gress. A charter was obtained from the General
Assembly, in 1764, for the college or university,
in the English colony of Rhode Island and Pro-
vidence Plantations, in New England, in Ame-
rica, with a provision that the Trustees and
Fellows should at any time after be at liberty to
give it a more particular name, " in honor of the

BROWN UNIVERSITY.

525

greatest and most distinguished benefactor." It
bore the title of the College of Rhode Island till
1804, when it became designated Brown Univer-
sity. The provisions of the charter gave a pre-
dominance to the Baptist interest in the number
of trustees, and the president is to be of that
denomination, with an unrestricted choice for the
remaining officers; but other religious interest- —
of Quakers, Oongregationalists, and Episcopalians
— are represented in a minority of the trustees:
and it was farther specially enacted "that into
this liberal and Catholic institution shall never
be admitted any religious tests, but, on the con-
trary, all the members shall for ever enjoy full,
free, absolute, and uninterrupted liberty of con-
science." In 1705, Manning was chosen the first
president, and instructed a few pupils at his
resilience at Warren, where the first Commence-
ment was held in 17G9. A local contest for the
seat of the college was terminated the next year by
the selection of Providence. The work of instruc-
tion went on with regularity till the Revolution,
when a gap occurs in the catalogue of Commence-
ments from 1777 to 1782. The college was occu-
pied at this time by the State militia, and as a
French hospital for the troops of Roohambeau.
In 1786, the president was elected to Congress,
where he gave his influence to the establishment
of the Constitution, still retaining his college
office. His death occurred in 1791, in his fifty-
third year. His personal character, says Allen,
was " of a kind and benevolent disposition, social
and com'municative, fitted rather for active life
than for retirement. Though he possessed good
abilities, he was prevented from intense study by
the peculiarity of his constitution. With a digni-
fied and majestic appearance, his address was
manly, familiar, and engaging."*

In 1792 he was succeeded in the presidency by
the Rev. Jonathan Maxcy, who, the year before,
upon the death of Manning, had been chosen Pro-
fessor of Divinity. He was a native of Attle-
borough, Mass., born in 1708, and is memorable
in the annals of American education for having
been president of three colleges, succeeding Ed-
wards at Union, when he left the Rhode Island
institution in 1802, and becoming the first presi-
dent of the college of South Carolina, at Colum-
bia, where he died in 1820. He must have pos-
sessed peculiar qualifications for the office. Judge
Pitman, a graduate of the college in the year
1799, during his administration, in an Alumni
Address,! speaks of him as " a man of great
dignity and grace in his manner and deportment,
with a countenance full of intellectual beauty,"
and recalls his " musical voice, graceful action,
and harmonious periods," accomplishments never
thrown away on a position of this kind.

The Rev. Asa Messer occupied the presidency
for twenty-four years— from 1802 till 1820. He
was a graduate of the college, and had been long
employed in its service as Tutor and Professor of
the Languages and Mathematics. He survived
his final retirement from the college ten years,
when lie died at the age of sixty-seven. The

* Allen's Bioir. Diet, Art. .Tas. Manning.

t Address to the Alumni Association of Brown University,
delivered in Providence on their first anniversary, Sept. D,
1848, by John Pitman.

college flourished in his time, and was greatly
assisted by the very liberal grants of the Hon.

4W

Nicholas Brown.

Nicholas Brown, from whom the institution then
took its present .name. This gentleman, de-
scended from a pious ancestor, who came with
Roger Williams, was born in Providence, April 4,
1709. He was a graduate of the college under
President Manning. He became a member of the
Corporation in 1791, and was punctilious in
attention to its interests. His mercantile life, in
the partnership of Brown and Ives, brought him
great wealth. In 1804, having previously given
a law library, he founded a Professorship of
Oratory and Belles Lettres by a gift of five thou-
sand dollars. In 1823, he erected, at his sole
expense, a second college building, which was
called after the Christian name of his sister, Hope
College. lie presented the college with astrono-
mical apparatus. By his liberality, in 1837,' that
excellent and well furnished library institution,
the Providence Athenaeum, was placed on its
present footing of usefulness to that communitv.

For the library of the university and the erec-
tion of Manning Hall, the building in which it is
now advantageously placed, situated between Uni-
versity Hall and Hope College, Mr. Brown gave
the sum of nearly thirty thousand dollars. He also
gave the land for a third college building, and
for the president's house. His donations by will,
and altogether, amounted to at least one hundred
thousand dollars. This worthy benefactor, who
richly earned the honor of the college name, died
at Providence in the seventy-third year of his
age, Sept. 27, 1841.*

Dr. Wayland succeeded Messer in the presi-
dency in 1827. His administration has been dis-
tinguished by an important reform in the distri-
bution of the college studies, which he has
advocated in several publications with ability.

Francis Wayland was born in 1790, in the city
of Now York, of English parentage. In 1811 he
entered the Junior Class of Union College, and
received his degree in course. He then pursued

* A Discourse in Commemoration or tiie Life and Character
of the Hon. Nicholas Brown, delivered in the Chapel of Brown
University, Nov. 8, 1841, by Francis Wayland, President.

526

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

the study of medicine for three years, and was
licensed as a practitioner. His views, however,
led him to the ministry, and in 1816 he entered
the Theological Seminary at Andover, where he
passed a year under the instruction of the late
Professor Stuart, with whom lie formed a lasting
friendship. Narrow means led Wayland to ac-
cept a tutorship in Union College, a position
which then involved a much larger share of labor
and responsibility than at present, its duties being
extended to nearly every department of study.
He was tutor at Union from 1816 to 1821, and
the latter portion of the time preached to a con-
gregation at Burnt Hills.

The friendship and character of Dr. Nott at
this time greatly influenced Wayland's course,
who has availed himself of an important oppor-
tunity in the delivery of a literary address at the
fiftieth anniversary of the incumbency of the ve-
nerable President of Union, to express his obliga-
tions to one " to whom he owed more than any
other living man." In 1821 he became pastor of
the First Baptist Church in Boston, where he
continued for five years. His pulpit style at this
period, clear and impressive, may be judged of
from his volume of Discourses. One of his pub-
lished sermons of this period on the Moral Dig-
nity of the Missionary Enterprise, an eloquent
production, has had an extraordinary success,
passing through many editions in England and
America. In 1826, the year of his appointment
to the Presidency of Brown University, he was
for a short time Professor of Mathematics and
Natural Philosophy at Union. He entered upon
his duties at Providence in 1827.

The influence of Dr. Wayland's ability and
character was now shown in the new adjustment
and regulation of the college affairs. Its present
materials of books, a library building, and philo-
sophical apparatus, were brought together by the
aid of friends, and the discipline was strengthened
by the new head. The new life of the college
dates from this time. The President taught by
lectures in place of the old text books, and the
public have participated in his efforts within the
college by the publication of his works on Moral
Science, Political Economy, and Intellectual Phi-
losophy. These works have an English as well as
American reputation, and the Moral Science has
been translated into several foreign languages.
To increase the hold of the college upon the
community, Dr. Wayland next proposed a change
iu its working system, by which single studies
might be followed and college honors awarded for
a partial course. He had stated something of his
views on this subject 'in his Address in 1829
before the American Institute of Instruction. In
1842 he published Thoughts upon the Collegiate
System of the United States, which led to much
discussion. At length, in 1850, at the request of
the Corporation of Brown University, lie pre-
sented a report discussing the matter, showing
the defects of the prevailing system, and his plan
for its improvement. He thought the benefits of
the college should be extended beyond the small
class who pursued professional studies, and that
greater thoroughness might be attained in pur-
suing a part than the whole of a course too ex-
tended for the college period. To carry out these
ends, in the new provisions for instruction, one

hundred and thirty thousand dollars were sub-
scribed for. Practically, the change has been
successful. The number of students has been
doubled, and they are drawn from all classes ;*
while the reputation of the college has increased.

Dr. Wayland has also identified himself with a
similar movement in the affairs of his religious
denomination, by his advocacy of lay participa-
tion, and a better adaptation of pulpit training in
the work of the Christian ministry.

In addition to the works of President Way-
land which have been mentioned, are his Letters
on Slavery, addressed to the Rev. Dr. Fuller of
South Carolina, and his Life of the Missionary
Dr. Judson, published in 1853.

As a philosophical writer, Dr. Wayland's style
is marked by its force and clearness. He reduces
his theme to its simplest elements, and builds up
strongly his philosophical structure. He moves
slowly at first, but with increasing momentum to
the end. His reputation as an orator is deservedly
great, and the importance which his personal
character gives to the chair which he occupies,
undoubted. Of his habitual manner in enfolding
the argument of his subject in its rhetorical ap-
peal, of securing the convictions of his hearers
through their moral susceptibilities, we may take
the opening of his high argument for the mission-
ary enterprise.

MATTHEW Xm. 8S. — THE FIELD IS TIIE WORLD.

Philosophers have speculated much concerning a
process of sensation, which has commonly been de-
nominated the emotion of sublimity. Aware that,
like any other simple feeling, it must be incapuble
of definition, they have seldom attempted to define
it ; but, content with remarking the occasions on
which it is excited, have told us that it arises, in
general, from the contemplation of 'whatever is vast
in nature, splendid in intellect, or lofty in morals.
Or, to express the same idea somewhat varied, in the
language of a critic of antiquity, f " that alone is
truly sublime, of which the conception is vast, the
effect irresistible, and the remembrance scarcely if
ever to be erased.1'

But although philosophers only have written
about this emotion, they are far from being the only
men who have felt it. The untutored peasant,
when he has seen the autumnal tempest collecting
between the hills, and, as it advanced, enveloping in
misty obscurity, village and hamlet, forest and mea-
dow, has tasted the sublime in all its reality ; and,

* In the practical management of the college to meet this
change, three degrees are conferred. That of Bachelor of
Arts is given to students who have pursued courses of one
year each, in an Ancient Language, a Modern Language, one iu
Mathematics, one in Rhetoric, one in History, and one in In-
tellectual and Moral Philosophy, with two others to be chosen
from the studies of Natural Philosophy, Chemistry and Phy-
siology, Didactics (a department of instruction in the philoso-
phy and discipline of school-keeping, opened for those who
wish to become professional teachers), Political Economy, and
Geology, or from advanced courses in any of the other depart-
ments. Th" degree of Bachelor of Philosophy requires
similar conditions, omitting the ancient languages: while the
degree of Master of Arts is reserved for those who pursue a
full course of liberal education, to the extent of each of the
Ancient Languages for one year and a half, Mathematics for
one year and a half, one Modern Language for one year, Natu-
ral Philosophy, Rhetoric and English Literature. Chemistry,
and Physiology, History, Intellectual and Moral Philosophy,
each, for one year. The remainiug courses for this degree
must he selected from the courses in Political Economy, Geo-
logy, Didactics, a second Modern Language, or from advanced
courses in an)r of the other departments, — Catalogue of the-
Officers and Students of Brown Uuiv. 185S-54.

T Longinus, sec. viL

BROWN UNIVERSITY.

527

whilst the thunder has rolled and the lightning
flashed around him, has exulted in the view of
nature moving forth in her majesty. The untaught
sailor hoy, listlessly harkening to the idle ripple of
the midnight wave, when on a sudden he has thought
upon the unfathomable abyss beneath him, and the
wide waste of waters around him, and the infinite
expanse above him, has enjoyed to the full the
emotion of sublimity, whilst his inmost soul has
trembled at the vastness of its own conceptions.
But why need I multiply illustrations from nature ?
Who does not recollect the emotion lie has felt,
whilst surveying aught, in the material world, of
terror or of vastness ? ,

And this sensation is not produced by grandeur
in material objects alone. It is also excited on most
of those occasions in which we see man tasking, to
the uttermost, the energies of his intellectual or
moral nature. Through the long lapse of centuries,
who, without emotion, has read of Leontdas and his
three hundred's throwing themselves as a barrier
before the myriads of Xerxes, and contending unto
death for the liberties of Greece!

But we need not turn to classic story to find all
that is great in human action ; we find it in our
own times, and in the history of our own country.
Who is there of us that even in the nursery has not
felt his spirit stir within him, when with child-like
wonder he has listened to the story of Washington?
And although the terms of the narrative were
scarcely intelligible, yet the young soul kindled at
the thought of one man's working out the deliver-
ance of a nation. And as our understanding,
strengthened by age, was at last able to grasp the
detail of this transaction, we saw that our infantile
conceptions had fallen far short of its grandeur. O !
if an American citizen ever exults in the contempla-
tion of all that is sublime in human enterprise, it is
when, bringing to mind the men who first conceived
the idea of this nation's independence, he beholds
them estimating the power of her oppressor, the
resources of her citizens, deciding in their collected
might that this nation should be free, and through
the long years of trial that ensued, never blenching
from their purpose, but freely redeeming the pledge
. which they had given, to consecrate to it, " their
lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor."

Patriots have toil'd. and in their country's cause
Bled nobly, and their deeds, as they deserve,
Receive proud recompense. We srive in charge
Their names to the sweet lyre. The historic mu3e,
Proud of her treasure, marches with it down
To latest times ; and sculpture in her turn
Gives bond, in stone and ever during brass,
To guard them and immortalize her trust. '

It will not be doubted that in such actions as
these, there is much which may be truly called the
moral sublime. If, then, we should attentively con-
sider them, we might perhaps ascertain what must
be the elements of that enterprise, which may lay
claim to this high appellation. It cannot be ex-
pected that on this occasion, we should analyze them
critically. It will, however, we think, be found,
upon examination, that to that enterprise alone has
been awarded the meed of sublimity, of which the
object was vast, the accomplishment arduous, and
the means to be employed simple but efficient.
Were not the object vast, it could not arrest our at-
tention. Were not its accomplishment arduous,
none of the nobler energies of man being tasked in
its execution, we should see nothing to admire.
Were not the means to that accomplishment simple,
our whole conception being vague, the impression
would be feeble. Were they not efficient, the in-

tensest exertion could only terminate in failure and
disgrace.

And here we may remark, that wherever these
elements have combined in any undertaking, public
sentiment has genernlly united in pronouncing it
sublime, and history has recorded its achievements
among the noblest proofs of the dignity of man.
Malice may for a while have frowned, and interest
opposed ; men who could neither grasp what was
vast, nor feel what was morally great, may have
ridiculed. But all this has soon passed away.
Human nature is not to be changed by the opposition
of interest, or the laugh of folly. There is still
enough of dignity in man to respect what is great,
and to venerate what is benevolent. The cause of
man has at last gained the suffrages of man. It has
advanced steadily onward, and left ridicule to won-
der at the impotence of its shaft, and malice to weep
over the ineffieacy of its hate.

And we bless God that it is so. It is cheering to
observe, that amidst so much that is debasing, there
is still something that is ennobling in the character
of man. It is delightful to know, that there are
times when his morally bedimmed eye " beams keen
with honor ;" that there is yet a redeeming spirit
within, which exults in enterprises of great pith and
moment. We love our race the better for every
such fact we discover concerning it, and bow with
more reverence to the dignity of human nature.
We rejoice that, shattered as has been the edifice,
there yet may be discovered, now and then, a mas-
sive pillar, and, here and there, a well turned arch,
which remind us of the symmetry of its former pro-
portions, and the perfection of its original structure.

Having paid this our honest tribute to the dignity
of man, we must pause, to lament over somewhat
which reminds us of any thing other than his
dignity. Whilst the general assertion is true, that
he is awake to all that is sublime in nature, and
much that is sublime in morals, there is reason to
believe that there is a single class of objects, whose
contemplation thrills all heaven with rapture, at
which he can gaze unlimited and unmoved. The
pen of inspiration has recorded, that the cross of
Christ, whose mysteries the angels desire to look
into, was to the tasteful and erudite Greek, foolish-
ness. And we fear that cases very analogous to this
may be witnessed at the present day. But why, my
hearers, should it be so ? Why should so vast a dis-
similarity of moral taste exist between seraphs who
bow before the throne, and men who dwell upon the
footstool? Why is it, that the man, whose soul
swells with ecstaey whilst viewing the innumerable
suns of midnight, feels no emotion of sublimity,
when thinking of their Creator ? Why is it, that an
enterprise of patriotism presents itself to his imagi-
nation beaming with celestial beauty, whilst the
enterprise of redeeming love is without form or
comeliness? Why should the noblest undertaking
of mercy, if it only combine among its essential
elements the distinctive principles of the gospel, be-
come at once stale, flat, and unprofitable? When
there is joy in heaven over one sinner that repentctii,
why is it that the enterprise of proclaiming peace on
earth, and good will to man, fraught, as it would
seem, with more than angelic benignity, should to
many of our fellow-men appear worthy of nothing
better than neglect or obloquy ?

The reason for all this we shall not on this oc-
casion pretend to assign. We have time only to ex-
press our regret that such should be the fact. Con-
fining ourselves therefore to the bearing which this
moral bias has upon the missionary cause, it is with
pain Ave are obliged to believe, that there is a large
and most respectable portion of our fellow-citizens,

528

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Brown University.

for many of whom we entertain every sentiment of
personal esteem, and to whose opinions on most
other subjects we bow with unfeigned deference,
who look with perfect apathy upon the present
system of exertions for evangelizing the heathen ;
and we have been greatly misinformed, if there be
not another, though a very different class, who con-
sider these exertions a subject for ridicule. Perhaps
it may tend somewhat to arouse the apathy of the
one party, as well as to moderate the contempt of
the other, if we can show that this very missionary
cause combines within itself the elements of all that
is sublime in human purpose, nay, combines them in
a loftier perfection than any other enterprise, which
was ever linked with the destinies of man. To
show this, will be our design; and in prosecuting
it, we shall direct your attention to the grandeur

OF THE OBJECT ; the AEDUOUSNESS OF ITS EXECUTION ;

and the nature of the means on which we rely for
success.

When Dr. Samuel Miller published his Retro-
spect of the Eighteenth Century, in 1803, he
remarked, that " there was by no means a general
taste for literature in Rhode Island ;" but this
position is not confirmed by the College annals.
Previously to that time it had educated many
distinguished persons of the state, and taking its
whole career, including the liberality of its home
founders, it has contributed its full quota to the
American records of this kind. Among its early
graduates we read the mimes of Paul Allen, Tris-
tain Burgess, Henry Wheaton, James Tallmadge,
"William Hunter. Two of its old Professors or
Instructors deserve special notice, Dr. Benjamin
"Waterhouse and the lb n. Asher Robbins.

Benjamin "Waterhouse was born in Newport,
Rhode Island. His father, a Presbyterian, adopted
Quakerism, and the son was brought up in the
principles of that sect, which he never closely fol-
lowed. He was a pupil of Dr. FothergiU, in Lon-
don, and received his medical degree at Leyden.
From 1783, for thirty years, he was Professor of
the Theory and Practice of Medicine at Harvard.
From 1782 to 1795, he was a member of the
Board of Fellows of Rhode Wand College, and in
1784 was elected Professor of Natural History.
He delivered at this time, in the state-house at

Providence, the first course of lectures upon that
science ever given in the United States. He was
the author of an octavo volume on the Junius
question, supporting the authorship of Lord Chat-
ham. He died at Cambridge in 1846.

Asher Robbins was tutor from 1783 to 1790.
He was a native of Connecticut, and a graduate
of Tale in 1782. After resigning his tutorship,
during which he had become a thorough proficient
in the classics, he studied law with Attorney-
General Channing, of Newport, and established
himself there in that profession. His reputation
for familiarity with Greek was widely extended
among scholars. He died in February, 1845.

The name of the late Professor William Giles
Goddard is prominent in the annals of the Insti-
tution. He was of an old Connecticut family of
worth and public spirit. His father, William
Goddard, was long connected with the press*
The son was 1 >orn in Rhode Island, and was educated
at Brown University, developing a taste for polite
literature which was not checked by a partial
study of the law. In 1814, he purchased the
Rhode-Island American, a Federal paper at Pro-
vidence, and was its editor for eleven years. In
1S25, he received his appointment as Professor
of Mtiral Philosophy and Metaphysics in the Col-
lege, the style of the Professorship being changed,
in 1834, t'o that of Belles-Lettres. "ill-health
compelled his resignation in 1842. He died sud-
denly, February 16, 1846, at the age of fifty-two.
His published writings, apart from his political
and other newspaper topics, are his Brown Uni-
versity Phi Beta Kappa Address on " The ATalue
of Liberal Studies," his sketch cf the first Presi-
dent Manning, an Address on the Death of Wil-
liam Henry Harrison, and a Discourse on the
Change of the Civil Government of Rhode Island
in 1843.

* He established the first newspaper in Providence, the Ga-
zette, in 176& He was also associated with Parker's Gazctto in
New York, and commenced the publication of the Pennsyl-
vania Chronicle, in Philadelphia, in 1767. In 1773. lie started
the Maryland Journal, which he published till 1799. He was
a Whis in the Eevolution. After the Revolution he retired to
Rhode" Island. He died at Prnvidencoiu 1S17. in his seventy-
eighth year. — Prof. W. Gammell, in Updike's Hist, of Karra-
gansett Church, 156.

JOSIAS LYNDON ARNOLD.

529

Associated with Professor Goddard in the date
of his appointment, in much of his academical ca-
reer, was Professor Romeo Elton, D.D., who was
at the head of the department of ancient lan-
guages and literature. He was a native of Con-
necticut, and became a graduate of the University
in 1812. He was settled for several years as a
clergyman of the Baptist denomination in New-
port, R. I., and in 1825 was appointed to the
professors] lip. Before entering on its duties he
spent two years in Europe, especially in Germany
and Italy. He continued in the college till 1813,
when he resigned, and has since resided in Exe-
ter, England, in retirement from active pursuits.
His published works, besides several sermons, are
Callendcr^s Century Sermon, edited with copious
notes, and biographical sketches; the Works of
President Maxcy, with an Introductory Memoir;
and more recently a Biographical Sketch of Ro-
ger Williams, which was fir.-t published in Eng-
land.

Since 1814 Professor John L. Lincoln has been
at the head of the department, of the Latin lan-
guage and literature. He was born in Boston,
and early trained at its celebrated Latin school.
He became a graduate of the University in 1836,
and after holding the office ofHutor for two years,
passed a considerable period at the universities
of Berlin, Heidelberg, and Halle, in Germany,
and on his return in 1844 was appointed to the
professorship he. now fills. His published works,
in addition to numerous articles in reviews, are
an edition of Selections from Limps Roman His-
tory, with English notes, and an edition of the
Worts of Horace, both of which are extensively
used and in high repute.

Professor William Gammell was a graduate of
the class of 1831, and was soon afterwards ap-
pointed to the Latin tutorship. In 1835 he was
appointed instructor in the department of rheto-
ric, and was promoted to the professorship in
that department in 1836, a post which he con-
tinued to occupy till 1850, when he was appoint-
ed to the professorship of History and Political
Economy, which he now holds. He has published,
besides numerous articles in reviews, an Address
"before the Rhode Island Historical Society on the
occasion of the Opening of its Cabinet; Life of
Roger Williams, first printed in Sparks's Ameri-
can Biography, Second Series; Life of Governor
Samuel Ward, also in Sparks's Second Series;
and a History of American Baptist Missions.

The library of this institution, now a muni-
ficent collection, dates mainly since the Revolu-
tion, at the period immediately following which
its interests were maintained by the gifts and
personal exertions of John Brown, the brother of
Nicholas, whose donations we have mentioned.
Some thirteen hundred volumes were bequeathed
in 1818by an English Baptist clergyman, the Rev.
William Richards, of Lynn, a native of Wales,
who gave his library to the college, after assuring
himself of its liberal constitution. He was the
author of a History of Lynn, in England, a Re-
view of Noble's Cromwell Memoirs, and a Dic-
tionary of Welsh and English. His library, thus
given to the college, contained a number of Welsh
books, many illustrating the History and Anti-
quities of England and Wales, and two or three
hundred bound volumes of rare pamphlets. Con-

voi.. I. — 31

stant donations were now heaped upon the col-
lege shelves from various sources, including a col-
lection of gifts brought by Professor Elton from
Europe. The Hon. Tlieron Metcalf, of Boston,
gave a valuable series of fifty volumes of Ordina-
tion Sermons, which he had specially collected.
In 1853 there were in the library mure than thirty-
j five hundred pamphlets bound and catalogued, an
important provision in public collections often
• neglected. In 1831 Nicholas Brown laid thefoun-
I dation of the present library fund by a gift of ten
! thousand dollars. The institution has now a per-
[ manent fund of twenty-five thousand dollars, the
interest of which, applied to the increase of the
library, has stored it with many of the most costly
and valuable books to be found in the country.
A special collection of the Church Fathers and
writers of the Reformation period was added to
the library in 1847, at an expense of two thou-
sand dollars, obtained at the suggestion of the
Rev. Samuel Osgood. The gathering of Ameri-
can historical materials has also been faithfully
pursued. A liberal policy is pursued in the con-
duct of the library. Reuben Aldridge Guild is
the present librarian (in 1855), having succeeded
Charles C. Jewett, in 1848.*

By the Triennial Catalogue of the University of
1852, it appears that the whole number of gra-
duates to that time was 1784, of whom 1173
were living. Of these 477 pursued divinity, of
whom 325 were living.

JOSIAS LYNDON AENOLD.
Josias Ltndox, the son of Dr. Jonathan Arnold,
was born in Providence in the year 1765. The
family removed soon after to St. Johnsbury, Vt.
Arnold entered Dartmouth College ; on the com-
pletion of his course taught school for a few
months in Plainfield, Conn., and then commenced
the study of the law in Providence. He was ad-
mitted to practice, but instead of pursuing his
profession, accepted the office of tutor at Brown
University. On his father's death in 1792, ho
removed to St. Johnsbury, where he married
Miss Perkinson, March, 1795, and died after a
ten-weeks' illness on the 7th June, 1796.

His poems were collected after his death in a
small volume, with a biographical preface signed
James Burrell, jun. The editor has performed
his duties carelessly, as he has included a poem
entitled The Dying Indian, which is to be found
in Frenean's Poems, ed. 1795, p. 59. The re-
maining contents of the volume consist of trans-
lations and imitations of Horace, one of which is
in the style of Sternhold and Hopkins.

It was published in the "Dartmouth Eagle,"
accompanied by a note.

Mr. Ditmiah, —

/ am an admirer of the simplicity of Sternhold
and Hopkins ; and am happy to find that, even in
tills enlightened age, those venerable bards of an-
tiquity have not only ambitious imitators, but even
formidable rivals. If the following translation has
any claim to excellence in this neat style, you are

* Mr. Jewctt'a Smithsonian Report of the U. S. Public Li-
braries (ls5( ) contains a full notice of the University Libra-
ries, pp. 53-GL See also its history in the preface to its cata-
logue.

530

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

requested to give it a place in your Rill; not so
much for the amusement of your readers, as for a
sample to younn poets.

MARCUS.

Exegi monumenfum, &c.

Lib. 3, Ode 30. HoEiCE.

Of fame a mighty monument

In time erect will I,
Than brass more hard and durable,

Or eke eternity.

Sublimer — 0 far more sublime,

Than pyramids full high,
That stretch their tops, and all upon

Fair Egypt's plain do lie.

Not Boreas, from out the north

Rude rushing all so bold,
Nor rain, nor -wind, that round doth roar,

Nor age that's yet untold :

Nor yet of time, full swift that fliea,
The tootli devour shall never ;

For stand shall this same monument,
Like rocks and mountains, ever.

This pakt of ice survive shall still,

And stay behind for aye ;
The other — Proserpine 1 ween

Right soon will drag away.

These are followed by a number of short
poems descriptive of sceneiy, a humorous ec-
logue, and a few songs. The topics are almost
entirely American, and drawn from the writer's
own observation. They are to be regarded as
the recreations of a youthful scholar, the light in
which their author held them ; as he before
his death contemplated their publication under
the title of the Prelusions of Ali, — an anagram-
matic transposition of his initials.

ODE TO CONNECTICUT P.TVEB.

On thy lov'd banks, sweet river, free
From worldly care and vanity,
I could my every hour confine,
And think true happiness was mine.

Sweet river, in thy gentle stream
Myriads of finny beings swim:
The watchful trout with speckled pride ;
The perch, the dace in silvered pride ;
The princely salmon, sturgeon brave,
And lamprey, emblem of the knave.

Beneath thy banks, thy shades among,
The muses, mistresses of song,
Delight to sit, to tune the lyre,
And fan the heav'n-descended fire.

Here nymphs dwell, fraught with every grace,
The faultless form, the sparkling face,
The generous breast, by virtue ibrm'd,
"With innocence, with friendship warni'd;
Of feelii g5 tender as the dove,
And yielding to the voice of love.

Happiest of all the happy swains
Are those who till thy fertile plains ;
With freedom, peace, and plenty crown'd,
They see the varying year go round.

But, more than all, there Fanny dwells,
For whom, departing from their cells,
The muses wreaths of laurel twine,
And bind around her brows divine ;

For whom the dryads of the woods,
For whom the nereidas of the floods,
Those as for Dian fam'd of old,
These as for Thetis reverence hold;
With whom, if I could live and die,
With joy I'd live, and die with joy,

SONG.

Tnne — "Social Fire."
Of Nancy's charms I fain would sing,
More lovely than the blooming spring,

The nymph of my desire,
Whom heaven grant to cheer my cot,
And make me bless my happy lot,

Around a social fire.

While others barter bliss for gain,
And wear a slavish golden chain,

To wealth I'll not aspire ;
I ask enough to live at ease,
To give the poor — my friends to please,

And keep a social fire.

When sets the sun in western sky,
How pleasing from the world to fly,

And to my cot retire ;
To find me there a cheerful wife,
And hear the children's playful strife,

Around the social fire.
•
Such joys as these he never knows,
Who leads a life of dull repose —

Joys that can never tire ;
Heaven grant me soon this blissful state,
Then will I hail my happy fate,

And bless my social fire.

DAETMOUTn COLLEGE.

TnE founder of this college was Dr. Eleazer
Wheelock, whose name it might more properly
bear than that of the English statesman which is
attached to it. The college grew out of an ear-
lier school, the history of which is peculiar. In
1743, when the B.ev. Mr. Wheelock, a native of
Windham, Connecticut, a descendant of an emi-
nent ecclesiastical family in New England, and a
distinguished student of Yale, where he had taken
the first Berkeley premium, had become settled as
a devoted minister in Lebanon, Ct, he took some
pupils under his charge according to the custom
of the times, among whom was the young Mohe-
gan Indian, Samson Occom. His success in the
education of this native scholar induced him to
form the plan of an Indian Missionary School, to
raise up Indian teachers. Other pupils from the
Delaware tribe came in. The attention of bene-
volent individuals was excited ; and in 1754,
Joshua Moor, a farmer in Maffick!, gave a house
and two acres of laud adjacent to Wheelock's resi-
dence for the purposes of the school, and the in-
stitution, which soon increased the number of its
pupils, became known as Moor's Indian Charity
School. Occom collected funds in England, which
were deposited with a board of trustees, of which
Lord Dartmouth, one of the subscribers, was Pre-
sident. The success of the school in the collec-
tion of pupils induced Dr. Wheelock to seek an-
other location nearer to the native tribes to bo
benefited. Various offers were made him of situa-
tions atAlbany, in Berkshire,Mass.,and elsewhere;
and it was finally determined to establish the
school in the western part of New Hampshire,
Governor Wentworth granted a charter in 1769.

DARTMOUTH COLLEGE.

531

in which the institution was called a college. This
new organization led to opposition from the trus-
tees of the school fund ; but it was found that
the existence of the two could be kept distinct,
though they are now established under the direc-
tion of the same board of trustees. Lord Dart-
mouth gave name to the college to which, from
his interest in the school, he was opposed. Go-
vernor Wentworth was the warm friend of the
new college, which received grants of land, and was
located at Hanover near the Connecticut river.

Eleazer Wheelock.

In 1770, Dr. Wheelock, approaching the age of
sixty, left Lebanon, and commenced his new work
in the wilderness. His family and the students
at first lived in log huts on the clearing. The
Memoirs of Dr. Wheelock give an interesting j
sketch of the novelties of the college life. Upon
a circular area of six acres the pines were felled, and
in all directions covered the ground to the height
of about live feet. One of these was two hun-
dred and seventy feet in height. Paths of com-
munication were cut through them. The lofty
tops of the surrounding forests were often seen
bending before the northern tempest, while the
air below was still and piercing. The snow lay
four feet in depth between four and five months.
The sun was invisible by reason of the trees, un-
til risen many degrees above the horizon. In this
secluded retreat and in these humble dwellings,
this enterprising colon}' passed a long and dreary
winter. The students pursued their studies with
diligence ; contentment and peace were not inter-
rupted, even by nmrmurers.* A two-story col-
lege was erected, and in 1771 four students gra-
duated, one of whom was John Wheelock, son of
the first, and the future President of the College.
Another was Levi Frisbie, father of the poet, and
himself a writer of verses, in some of which he has
celebrated the peculiar circumstances in which his
Alma Mater was founded.

" Forlorn thus youtliful Dartmouth trembling stood,

Surrounded with inhospitable wood :

No silken furs on her soft limbs to spread,

No dome to screen her fair, defenceless head ;

Cn every side she cast her wishful eyes,

* Memoirs of the Eev. E'eazer Wheelock, Founder of Dart-
mouth, by M'GIure and Elijah Parish, 1S11.

Then humbly rnis'd them to the pitying skies.
Thence grace divine beheld her tender care,
And bowed an ear, propitious to her prayer.
Soon chang'd the scene ; the prospect shines more

fair ;
Joy lights all faces with a cheerful air;
The buildings rise, the work appears alive,
Pale fear expires, and languid hopes revive.
Calm solitude, to liberal science kind,
Sheds her soft influence on the studious mind;
Afflictions stand aloof; the heavenly powers
Drop needful blessings in abundant showers.*

After ten years' government of the college the
first president, Wheelock, died in 1779, aged
sixty-eight. He was succeeded in the college
government by his son John Wheelock, who Mas
educated at Hanover, one of the first fruits of the
college, and had been a tutor till the breaking out
of the Revolution, when he led an active military
life with Stark and Gates till his father's death
recalled him from the army. In 1782 he was
sent by the trustees to Europe for the collection
of funds and the promotion of the college inte-
rests, which had not escaped the depression of
the war. He carried with him letters from
Washington, who had known and esteemed him
as a Revolutionary officer, from the French Minis-
ter Luzerne to the Count de Vergennes. Arriv-
ing in France, Dr. Franklin and John Adams
gave him introductions to the Netherlands, where
a considerable sum of money was given by the
Prince of Orange and others. In England he ar-
ranged the interrupted funds of the school-foun-
dation, procured philosophical instruments and
other valuable donations, and on his return to
America, after suffering in a severe storm on the
banks of Newfoundland, was wrecked on Cape
Cod, barely escaping with life to the shore. The
college property coming afterwards was saved.
Dr. Wheelock's exertions were next directed to
the erection of a college edifice by the further
collection of funds and other co-operation, for
which the institution was greatly indebted to
him. He also discharged the duties of professor
of history. After thirty-six years' occupancy of
his position his connexion with the institution
was violently closed.

The college was managed by a bod}' of trus-
tees, created by the charter, who filled vacancies
in their number. In 1815 they drew attention
upon themselves by an act memorable not only
in its immediate but in its ultimate consequences,
as affecting the position of the college and de-
termining a great question of legal and consti-
tutional right. Differences in the college with
the trustees, and questions of religious opinion,
led them in that .year to remove Dr. Wheelock
from the presidency. A large portion of the
public affected to be outraged at the proceed-
ing. Governor William Plummer invited the
attention of the state legislature to the subject,
who, asserting their claim to alter or amend a
charter of which they were the guardians, in

* From a poem " On the Rise and Progress of Moor's Indian
Charity School (now incorporated with Dartmouth College ) its
removal and settlement in Hanover, and the founding a Church
in the same, by one of Dr. Wheelock's pupils, educated in said
school, and now a member of said college, preparing for a mis-
sion anions the Indians." It is printed in the notes to M'C'lnre
and Parish's Memoirs of Wheelock.

532

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Dartmouth College.

1816 passed acts creating a new corporation.
Nine trustees to be appointed by the governor
and council, were added to the old body, the cor-
porate title changed to Dartmouth University,
and the property vested in the new board. The
old tru tees set all this legislation at naught, and
keeping up their organization commenced an ac-
tion for the recovery of the college property. It
was decided against them by Chief-Justice Rich-
ardson in the Superior Court of the state, and
thence carried to the Supreme Court of the Uni-
ted States before Chief-Justice Marshall, wherein
1819 the judgment was reversed, and the great
principle of the inviolability of chartered corpo-
rate property fully established. It was in this
cause that Daniel Webster, at the age of thirty-
five, made the commencement of his great repu-
tation as a constitutional lawyer.* He had be-
come a graduate of the college seventeen years
before, in 1801, and had argued the cause for
the plaintiffs in the highest state court. Mr.
Ticknor has described the effect of his argument
for the rights of the trustees and the college in
the Supreme Court: — " lie opened his cause with
perfect simplicity in the general statement of its
facts, and then went on to unfold the topics of his
argument in a lucid order, which made every posi-
tion sustain every other. The logic and the law
were rendered irresistible. As he advanced, his
heart warmed to the subject and the occa-ion.
Thoughts and feelings that had grown old with
his best affections rose unbidden to his lips. He
remembered that the institution he was defend-
ing was the one where his own youth had been
nurtured; and th 3 moral tenderness and beauty
this gave to the grandeur of his thoughts, the
sort of religious sensibility it imparted to his ur-
gent appeals and demands for the stern fulfilment
of what law and justice required, wrought up the
whole audience to an extraordinary state of ex-
citement.''t Joseph Hopkinson of Philadelphia,
who was engaged on the same side with him,
wrote to President Brown on the decision — " I
would advise you to inscribe over the door of
your institution, founded, by Eleazer Wlieeloch:

* Edward Everett's Biog. Memoir. Webster's Works, i.
ilviii.

t An article by George Ticknor, in the American Quarterly
Eeview for June, 1S81.

refounded by Daxiel Webster."* In this case
Webster was the associate of Jeremiah Smith and
Jeremiah Mason ; opposed to -John Holmes of
Maine, William Pinckney and AVilliam Wirt of
Maryland.

The local agitation which this interference with
the college excited was prodigious. Rival news-
papers waged furious war, the Dartmouth Ga-
zette and the Portsmouth Oracle in behalf of the
college, and the New Hampshire Patriot for the
popular opposition. I Religious and political an-
tipathies lent their aid to the controversy. In
the midst of the difficulties President Wheelock,
who had been restored by the new board of the
university, died within two months after that
event, in April, 1817, at the age of sixty-three.

In 1816, an important pamphlet, of which Dr.
Wheelock furnished the material, appeared, which
was an entrenched garrison of facts and state-
ments for the support of his friends and attacks of
his enemies. It was entitled, "Sketches of the
History of Dartmouth College and Moor's Chari-
ty School, with a particular account of some late

I remarkable proceedings of the Board of Trustees,

j from the year 1779 to the year 1815." It is
given by Allen, who married his daughter, as the

1 composition of Wheelock. J It is well written.
He also published a eulogy on Dr. Smith, the
classical professor of the College, and Allen tells
us that he prepared further a large historical
work, still remaining in manuscript. He was a
laborious student, rising early, and abstemious.

Francis Brown was the regular successor ap-
pointed b}' the Trustees on the removal of Whee-
lock in 1815. He was a native of New Hamp-
shire, born in 1784, a graduate of the College,

; and subsequently pastor of the church in North
Yarmouth, Maine. Succeeding Wheelock in the
presidency of Dartmouth, he carried the College
by his exertions successfully through its difficult
period of conflict. His serious illness followed
close upon the decision of the important college
question. He travelled for his health, but shortly
returned to die at Hanover, July .27, 1820. He

] left a few published discourses, among which were

S a defence of Calvin and an Address on Music, de-
livered before the Handel Society of Dartmouth
College in 1809.

Dr. Brown was succeeded by the Rev. Daniel
Dana, who retained the office but one year, when
the Rev. Bennet Tyler succeeded, and, upon his
resignation in 182S, the present incumbent, the
Rev. Nathan Lord, received the appointment.

The Triennial Catalogue of 1852, and the
Catalogue of Officers and Students for the Acade-
mical year 1854-5, exhibit the Institution in a
flourishing condition as to the extent of studies

I pursued, and the number of students availing
themselves of the .iberal advantages presented.
The College comprises a faculty of Arts and
Medicine, a separate course of Scientific Instruc-

* Life of President Brown, bv the T.ev. Henry Wood. Am.
Quar. Keg. vii. 183.

t History of New Hampshire, from its discovery in 1G14 to
the passage uf the Toleration Act in 1&19, by Georire Barstow.
2dcd. 1S58.

+ Biog. Diet., article John Wheelock. Any one who wishes

' to pursue this angry discussion may find abundant materials in

i a 'Candid Analytical Review of ihe Sketches," an answer, by

Josiah Dunham, to the. "Vindication'' of the Trustees, amorjg

the pamphlets of the times.

SAMUEL LOW.

533

tion, while Moor's school, still remnins a distinct
and independent corporation, furnishing an Acade-
mical department. The Professorships of the
Greek and Latin Languages and Literature are
respectively held hy the Rev. John N. Putnam
and E. D. Sanborn. Lectures are delivered to
the Senior Class by the President, on the studies
of the year ; by Professor Ira Young on Natural
Philosophy and Astronomy to the Juniors, by
Professor Oliver Payson Hubbard, M.D., on Che-
mistry and Geology to the Seniors, and on Mi-
neralogy to the Juniors; by Professor Clement
Long, D.D., on Intellectual Philosophy to the
Senior-, by Professor Samuel Oilman Brown, D.D.,
on Rhetoric and Belles Lettres to the Seniors and
Juniors, by Professor Edwin David Sanborn on
History to the Sophomores, by Professor Daniel
James Noy.es, D.D., on Theology and Moral Phi-
losophy to the Seniors and Juniors ; by Pro-
fessor E. D. Peaslee, M.D., on Anatomy and
Physiology to the Seniors. The Hon. Joel Parker
holds the chair of Medical Jurisprudence to the
Faculty. The Rev. Dr. Roswell Shurtleff, who
was Professor of Moral Philosophy from 1827 to
1838, has since that time reached Emeritus.
The Rev. Charles B. Haddock was Professor of
Rhetoric from 1819 to 1838, and afterwards of
Intellectual Philosophy and Political Economy.
He lias since held a foreign appointment from
1851 to 1833, as Charge d' Affaires at Lisbon.
In 1840 he published a Collection of Addresses
and Miscellaneous Writings. Dr. Oliver Wendall
Holmes was Professor of Anatomy and Physiology
from 1838 to 1840. The Chandler Scientific
School was founded b}T a bequest of Abiel Chan-
dler, late of Walpole, N. II., and formerly of Bos-
ton, Mass., who gave fifty thousand dollars to be
invested, and the income applied to " the establish-
ment and support of a permanent department or
school of instruction in the College, in the prac-
tical and useful arts of life, comprised chiefly in
the branches of Mechanics and Civil Engineer-
ing, the Invention and Manufacture of Machinery,
Carpentry, Masonry, Architecture and Drawing,
the Investigation of the Properties and Uses of
the Materials employed in the Arts, the Modern
Languages and English Literature, together with
Book-keeping, and such other brandies of know-
ledge as may best qualify young persons for the
duties and employments of active life." These
studies are embraced in a regular course of three
years, and the scholars pursuing them are entitled
to a degree of Bachelor in Science.

The various libraries connected with the Col-
lege have an aggregate of more than thirty
thousand volumes. By the enumeration of the
Catalogue, it appears that the whole number of
the alumni in 1852 was 2,71!', of whom l,fi!>7
were then living. Six hundred and eight} -four
of these bad become Ministers of the Gospel.

SAMUEL LOW.
From the concluding couplet of one of the au-
thor's poem*, dated December 11, 1785 —

" Yes, twice ten years ago to-morrow night,

Began to breathe the rhyming, moon-struck wight " —

we may place the date of his birth December 12,
1705.

His poems were published, as usual, by sub-
scription, in two thin volume-, by T. & J.-Swords,
in 1800. They include, his preface informs us,
" nearly the whole of his poetic writings." The

*

y>

collection opens with an ode on the death of
General Washington, which was recited by Hodg-
kinson in the New York Theatre, January 8,
1800. It contains a number of other poems ad-
dressed to Washington, and several patriotic
effusions on the fourth of July and the adoption
of the constitution. Themes of a private and
familiar, as well as a public nature, attracted his
ready muse. "A Glass of Wine," and " A Cigar,"
are honored like Anna, Portia, Fraternus, and
others, with a sonnet a-piece ; while the births,
marriages, and deaths of his family and friends
are commemorated more at length. A few hu-
morous trifles towards the close of the second
volume bear the title of "Juvenile Levities."
The most elaborate effort of the collection is a
descriptive poem of some length on Winter. The
picture of the cottage fireside is pleasing.

TIIE WINTER FIRESIDE.

While uproar now incessant reigns without,
While Winter pours his ruffian blasts about,
Columbia's peasants trim their ample fires,
And through their dwellings genial heat transpires;
In yonder cot, whence smoky columns rise,
The rustic group, secure from stormy skies,
Their ev'ning hours in tranquil ease employ,
And rural pastime 'wakes their souls to joy;
A social crescent round the fire they form,
Whose vivid blaze at once can cheer and warm ;
Beneficence and simple truth are there,
And there content and innocence repair;
The surly mastiff" by his master stands,
And wistful begs a morsel at his hands ;
Around the room her tricks grimalkin tries;
The crackling faggot up the chimney flies;
The cricket chirrups blithesome in the hearth,
And all conspire to heighten harmless mirth,
The roof, that pond'rous heaps of snow sustains,
Now loudly cracking, of the storm complains:
They hear the tempest rage, but reckless hear ;
Its piercing blast they neither feel nor fear ;
la words uncouth they tell their rustic tales,
Soon o'er the list'ning throng the charm prevails ;
Of goblins dire some talk, while others hear
With woud'ring approbation, mix'd with fear ;
Imagination's terrors o'er them creep,
And banish from their eyes encroaching sleep :
In social converse fleet their winter nights,
Or the brisk dance, or jocund song delights ;
Columbia's rural daughters join the strain,
Or lead the dance, with each her fav'rite swain ;
The quaint old ballad prompts some son'rous voice,
While sires and matrons silently rejoice :
Or if some wit or humorist be there,
Or Humor's murderer, or Wit's despair,
A elam'rous laugh applauds his poor pretence ;
Grimace is humor there, and triteness sense.
By Science uninform'd, and unrefin'd
By aught of taste that guides the cultured mind,
The mimic's Proteus power, that can adapt

534

CYCLOPiEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Itself to all things, with resemblance apt ;

The sprightly jest ; the applicable thought ;

And irony, with hidden satire fraught ;

The ludicrous burlesque that laughter moves ;

The attic flash of wit that genius loves ;

The ready repartee; the well-timed pun ; —

All these their feelings and their sense outrun :

Such brilliant sallies have no power to please,

Perceptions unappropriate to these ;

But, tho' their faculties 'gainst these rebel,

The coarse attempt at wit they relish well ;

The common-place remark, and vulgar joke,

Delight them more than if a Garrick spoke :

In such rude ignorance perhaps more blest

Than if fastidious taste their minds possess'd ;

They know not what the critic's raptures mean,

But neither do they know the critic's spleen;

Disgust, and pride, and envy gnaw his breast,

But they, at least, are negatively blest ;

For apathy, stupidity, and phlegm,

And sensual good, are happiness to them ;

"With daily toil and nightly e:> e content,

Thus Winter glides, aad thus their lives are spent.

OK A SPRING OF WATER IS KINGS COUNTY, LONG ISLAND.

"When parch'd by thirst, and faint with heat,

I make this fav'rite spot my seat,

And see, beneath the willow's shade,

This limpid spring, this sweet cascade,

"Which through a million pores of earth

Refines and filtrates ere its birth,

In gentle currents pour along,

The green and flow'ry meads among ;

And carry my delighted gaze

Where'er its course meand'ring strays,

And see it kissing, as it flows,

Each shrub that here luxuriant grows.

Each od'rous plant of varied green, —

0. how delicious is the scene !

When o'er the fount I eager bend,

And hear the gurgling sound ascend, ■

And see the pearly globules rise,

My ears are charm'd, regal'd mine eyes;

But when, my burning thirst to slake,

I Nature's wholesome bev'rage take,

Far more refreshing is the draught

Than that by Bacchanalians quaff 'd:

No liquid fire, of man the bane,

That yields us joy which ends in pain,

Can thus revive and charm each sense,

Or such salubrious gifts dispense :

Not juice from luscious grapes expressed

Can yield so sweet, so pure a zest ;

For, though the rich potation please,

It prostrates mind, and sows disease.

Then shun, oh, man ! the specious' good,

Dash from your lips the purple flood,

Nor let its fires inflame your blood ;

Escape from such fallacious joys,

From frantic mirth and brutal noise ;

From Circe's incantations flee,

And taste unmix'd delight with me;*

Here draw supplies of strength for age.

And here your fev'rish thirst assuage.

Like Kais* were you doom'd to roam
Far, far from Leila and your home ;
(Arabia's Nightingale was he,
His incense-breathing Rose was she.)
Ah ! if like him in desert lands,
You trod forlorn on burning sands,
And breath'd Arabia's torrid air,
And found nor shade nor fountain there ;

* See D'lsraeli's romance of Mejnoun and Leila.

Your wasting frame with fever fir'd,
Increas'd by ev'ry breath respir'd;
O'er your scorch'd head a brazen sky ;
Around no spot to bless your eye
"With verdure cooling shade or stream,
(Obnoxious to the solar beam)
Your arid tongue consum'd by thirst,
Your heart by hopeless love necurs'd, —
How would you pant, and long, and mourn
For this sweet Spring which now j'ou scorn I

But should benignant Genii bear,
From sandy wastes, and stagnant air,
Your haggard form, by Famine worn,
"Which heat hath blasted, flints have torn,
To this blest spot, where Phoebus' beam
Nor shrivels plants nor dries the stream ;
If, by a miracle, convey'd
Beneath this lovely willow's shade,
You heard this rill, — romantic sound 1
In soothing murmurs purl around;
And look'd and gaz'd with raptur'd eyes
On all t'ii.gs cir led by 'he skies ■
And felt what cooling influence brings
The zephyr on its balmy wings;
And what refrigerating power
Is in the soft, pellucid shower,
"Which falls so sweetly, gently here.
That ev'n the sight can cool and cheer, —
O ! what a Paradise of bliss
A scene delectable like this
Would open to the ravish'd view
Of such a dying wretch as you !
'Twould all your languid powers revive,
And bid exhausted Nature live !

Beneath a scorching vertie sun,
A fearful distance still to run,
What would the harass' d seaman give,
Could he to such a spot arrive !
Oft does the famish' d suff' rer dream
Of such a spot, with such a stream ;
And oft the draught which he- desires
From his unsated lip retires ;
He 'wakes to longings more intense,
His veins are fir'd, disturb'd his sense ;
He 'wakes to fev'rish thirst a prey,
And joyless ploughs the briny way.

Marcissa, innocent as fair,
Of this translucent Spring beware ;
For when, your ardent thirst to slake,
You stoop the temp'rate draught to take,
This mirror may attract desire,
And water may engender fire ;
For in that mirror you may view
A form as beautiful as you ;
That form, already passing fair,
Will shine with added beauty there;
In it the clear cerulean sky
With brighter azure charms the eye,
And the light fleece which floats in air,
Is lovelier when reflected there :
Then lest (like erst an am'rous swain)
You love your beauteous self in vain,
And for that lovely image sigh
"Which in the crystal fount you spy,
Admire not those reflected charms,
Nor vainly strive to fill your arms
"With the fair shadow you would miss,
But seek for safer, purer bliss ;
Less fleeting, more attractive too, — ■
Admire the mind which dwells in you.

JOHN S. J. GARDINER.

John Sylvester Jonx Gardiner, tho Rector of
Trinity Church in Boston, the author of nume-

JOHN SYLVESTER JOHN GARDINER

535

rous published discourses, and the imputed writer
of the political-poetical tract of the Jacobiniad,
was born of American parentage in South Wales, at
Haverford West, in 1765. His father, John Gardi-
ner, the son of Dr. Sylvester Gardiner, was a native
of Boston, who waj sent to be educated in England,
and who studied law at the Temple. In London
he became the intimate of Churchill the satirist,
and the acquaintance of Lord Mansfield. His
participation in the liberal measures of the day
as junior counsel in the Wilkes ease, marked his
future political principles. Having married in
Wales, he left Great Britain in 1766, with the
appointment of attorney-general to the island of
St. Christopher, remaining in the West Indies
till after the Revolution, when, in 1783, he removed
to Boston. Hedelivered a Fourth of July Oration
in 1785 for the town authorities of Boston. He
next settled at Pownalboro, in Maine, whence he
was sent to the Legislature of Massachusetts.

In 1702, he delivered a speech in the Massa-
chusetts House of Representatives, on the subject
of the Report of the Committee appointed to con-
sider the Expediency of repealing the law against
Theatrical Exhibitions within this Common-
wealth, in which he maintained with spirit, good
humor, and a considerable array of learning, the
rights of the stage. He was assisted in his read-
ing on the subject by Thaddeus Mason Harris
and others, and his numerous quotations extend
over Greek and Roman literature as well as the
recent English poetry. A pa-sage will show the
ardor with which he entered upon the matter.

"The illiberal, unmanly, and despotic act, which
now prohibits theatrical exhibitions among us, to me,
sir, appears to be the brutal, monstrous spawn of a
sour, morose, malignant, and truly benighted super-
stition, which, with her impenetrable fogs, hath but
too long begloomed and disgraced this rising coun-
try ! — a country by nature intended for the produc-
tion and cultivation of sound reason, and of an
enlightened, manly freedom ! From the same
detestable, canting, hypoeritic spirit was generated
that abominable Hutchinsonian warden act, which
hath twice, in my time, been reprobated by the
House of Representatives, who passed two several
bills for its repeal; although, it seems, it could not
be given up by certain Simon Pures, the sanctified
zealots of former senates. It is to be lamented that
this hypoeritic, unconstitutional act is still permit-
ted to disgrace our statute book ; while every man
who has duly investigated the sacred principles
of civil liberty contemns, and, with the enlightened
town of Boston, abhors, and pays not the smallest
respect, the least attention, to tins abominable
impotent act. Notwithstanding Boston annually
refuses to choose the tyrannical wardens, I would
ask, where, under the sun, are there on the Sabbath
day, a more decent, orderly people than the inhabit-
ants of this great commercial sea-faring town, who
thus continue to treat with due contempt that
hypoeritic nefaiious act."*'

* The law dated from 'he year 1750. Gardiner, assisted by
Dr. Jarvis, to whom he gave the epithet of "the towering
Bald Eagle of the Boston seat," was unsuccessful in his advo-
cacy of the petition. T*'e law remained in force. Samuel
Adams and Benjamin Austin opposed the repeal. The latter,
says Dnnlap. quoting Dramatic Reminiscences in the New
England Magazine, wrote a series of essays to prove that
Shakespeare had no genius. William TndOT and Charles
Jarvis supported stage exhibitions. In 1792. the matter was
circumvented by an exhibition room which introdueed the
lower ra k of theatrical performances. The next year the law
was repealed. — Duulap's Am. Theatre, ch. xj.

To this speech was appended " A Dissertation
on the Ancient Poetry of the Romans; with
Incidental Observations on certain Superstitions,"
dec.

Gardiner was drowned off Cape Ann, in a
storm, Oct. 1793, when he was on his way to
the General Court of Massachusetts, leaving the
reputation of a man of energy as a politician and
speaker.

His son had been taken in his childhood to
Boston for education. On the breaking out of
the Revolution lie returned to his father in the
West Indies, and was sent at the age of eleven to
England, where he passed six years under the
instruction of Dr. Parr. He rejoined his father,
and shortly proceeded with him to Boston. At
first he directed his attention to the law, but soon
attached himself to divinity, receiving his ordina-
tion in 1787 from Bishop Provoost at New York.
He began preaching at Beaufort, S. C. In 1792
he was appointed assistant minister of Trinity
Church on the Greene foundation, and in 1805, on
the death of Bishop Parker, became Rector, —
relinquishing at this time the charge of a gram-
mar-school which he had conducted on an exact
and critical model in the studies of Latin and
Greek, in which he was a proficient.

His religious tenets thus differed from those of
his father, who had been instrumental in effecting
the change of the English liturgy in the Book of
Common Prayer in King's Chapel, by omitting the
allusions to the Trinity. Dr. Gardiner, the divina
was a staunch advocate of Episcopacy, and a zeal-
ous Federalist, warm in his attachment to England.
His numerous published Discourses always fur-
nish indications of his acumen, extensive reading,
and independent judgment. He was a good
hater of the French school of politicians of his
day, of which proof may be found in his dis-
courses as well as in the satire of the Jacobiniad.
The latter was communicated in a series of num-
bers to the Federal Orrery. Under cover of a
review of a pretended poem, " The Jacobiniad," of
which extracts were furnished, the liberal clubs
of Boston, with their members, were sharply
satirized. The papers were afterwards collected
together and published with several vigorous
etchings of spirit — probably the best things of
the kind which had then appeared in the country.*

In a Fast Day Sermon at Trinity Church, in
1808, Gardiner thus expressed his view of the
relations of the country towards France and
England.

Though submissive and even servile to France, to
Great. Britain we are eager to display our hatred
and hurl our defiance. The American eagle, though
meek as a dove before the Gallic cock, yet to the
British lion will present the "terrors of his beak,
the lightnings of his eye," and the strength of bis

* Remarks on the Jacobiniad : revised and corrected by the
author ; and embellished with caricatures. Part First.
Well may they dread the Muse's fatal skill : —
Well may they tremble, when she draw* lie;- qui'l;
Her magic quill, that, like Ithuriel's spear,
Reveals the cloven hoof, or lengthened ear;
Gives fools and demagogues their natural shapes;
Makes Austins crocodiles — and Vinals, rpes;
Drass the vile Clubbist from his dark abode,
Tilfall the demon starts up from the toad.
Printed at Eoston, by E. W. Weld and W. Grccnough, 1795.
8vo. pp. 54

y?,e

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

talons. Every petty dispute which may happen
between an American captain and a British officer
is magnified into a national insult. The land of our
fathers, whence is derived the best blood of the na-
tion, the country to which, we are chiefly indebted
for our laws and knowledge, is stigmatized as a
nest of pirates, plunderers, and assassins. We
entice away her seamen, the very sinews of her
power; we refuse to restore them on applica-
tion; we issue hostile proclamations; we inter-
dict her ships of war from the common rites of hos-
pitality ; we pass non-importation acts ; we lay
embai goes ; we refuse to ratify a treaty in which
she had made great concessions to us ; we dismiss
her envoy of peace, who came purposely to apolo-
gize for an act unauthorized by her government ;
we commit every act of hostility against her pro-
portioned to our means and situation. Observe the
contrast between the two nations, and our strange
conduct. France robs us, and we love her ; Britain
courts us, and we hate her. France is hostile, Bri-
tain friendly. 'With France we have a treaty, with
Britain none. France is fighting for the subjugation
of the world, Britain for its independence, France
is contending for her own aggrandizement, Britain
for her salvation. If France is victorious we are
slaves ; if Britain proves victorious we remain free.
France is a land of slaver}' ; Britain of freedom.
The insults and injuries we receive from France are
unpardonable, and the immediate acts of her go-
vernment ; the insults and injuries we receive from
Britain are not authorized by her government, and
ore often provoked by the rudeness and ill-manners
of our own people. France makes actual war upon
us, and yet we court her. We make actual war on
Britain, and yet she tries every expedient to conci-
liate us.

He took a similar view of the distrust of Eng-
land on another Fast Day Sermon in 1810.

Of his Church views an idea may be gathered
from a sermon which he delivered in behalf of a
Prayer-Book Society, at Trinity Church, in 1S1G.

Even the Church of Scotland, before the Reforma-
tion the most bigoted of all Christian societies, used
a form of prayer; nor was it laid aside till Knox
and other reformers, as they pleased to call them-
selves, began to persecute those who dissented from
them, and levelled or disfigured the finest churches
of the north. Their hatred to the Catholic religion
was so violent that they determined to retain no-
thing that in the smallest degree resembled it; to
discard equally what was blameable and what was
excellent ; and among other things, to annihilate
forms of prayer, and to address the Deity in their
own indecent and extemporaneous effusions. Poli-
tical prejudices against England cooperated with
their b:gotry, and Scotland was covered with con-
venticles, in which were delivered extempore ha-
rangues, that contained a strange mixture of poli-
tics and theology. Their polities inculcated rebel-
lion, and their theology clothed God with the attri-
butes of the Devil. It is, however, but candid to
remark, that these follies and blasphemies gradually
ceased ; and at the present day the Scottish church
is eminently distinguished for rational piety, libe-
rality of sentiment, and extent of learning. It has
not, however, resumed a form of prayer, but still
retains the custom of extemporary addresses, which
began in enthusiasm and has been preserved by
prejudice. It is, indeed, wonderful, that men of
sense and candor will not adopt a form of prayer,
the superiority of which the liberal and enlight-
ened are ever ready to acknowledge. Its advan-

tages are numerous and striking; it promotes, in"
a high degree, the honor of Almighty God ; it is
more expressive of reverence, and devotion, it
preserves an impressive solemnity and decorum; it
is at once dignified and simple: in a word, it as far
surpasses extemporary prayer as the sober dignity
and chaste eloquence of the learned divine excels
the indecent freaks and senseless rant of the itine-
rant and unlettered enthusiast.

His occasional discourses, as his sermon before
the Mass. Humane Society, and his address before
the members of the Mass. Charitable Fire Soci-
ety, in 1803, with his sermon before the mem-
bers of the Boston Female Asylum, in 1809,
show a similar energy and freedom of style. In
the last he urges a profounder systerh of female
education. " There must be something wrong," he
says," in the present system of female education.
It is far too superficial. It is almost exclusively
directed to the improvement of the person and
address. I should wish for something more
substantial. * * * Only lay a solid foundation,
and you may raise on it a superstructure as airy
and fantastical as yon please." He commends
the Latin grammar as " the shortest road to the
knowledge of universal grammar and to the at-
tainment of every modern language."

There is a story told of Gardiner on the break-
ing out of the war with England, to which he
was violently opposed, having taken for his text,
in allusion to Madison, a portion of the sentence
of Mark x. 41 : They began to be much displeased
icith James*

Gardiner was one of the original founders of
the Boston Alhcnwum, and a frequent contributor
to the Monthly Anthology.

Of Gardiner's poetic talent there is an instance
preserved by Mr. Loring, in the verses sung in
King's Chapel, July 6, 1808, after the delivery of
the Eulogy of Samuel Dexter, over the remains
of Fisher Ames.

As, when dark clouds obscure the dawn,

The day-star's lustre disappears,
So Ames beheld our natal morn,

And left desponding friends in tears.

Soon as the distant cannon's roar,

Announced that morn's returning ray,

* Gardiner, like his father, had a sympathy for the stage, if we
may attach any importance to an anecdote related in Dunlap's
Life of George Frederick Cooke. The clergyman went to fee
the actor perform, and the great tragedian, nattered with the
attention, thought it necessary to return the compliment by
going to hear the divine preach. Cooke was not exactly in
condition for religious services, but he went. " He had," says
Dunlap, '' at the previous dinner-party, made an engagement
with Mr. Bernard to go and hear Mr. Gardiner preach. "and he
most heroically kept to the intention. He got np, not very
different in bodily estate from what he was when he was
tumbled into bed, except with better command of limb.
While sitting under the hands of his hairdresser, Mr. Price
came in. "What! up already!'' "Do you know. Price,
I am going to church!" "To church:" " Yes, I am going
to hear Parson Gardiner. He's the only one of thorn that
has done me the honor to come and see the play, and I'll do
him the honor of going to hear him preach. Sam, give me
some hot brandy toddy." The hairdresser and honest Sam,
having performed their respective offices, and a large glass of
stiff brandy toddy having been swallowed as a restorative, he
attended upon his friend Bernard, as gay as one-and-twenty,
to Mr. Gardiner's church. Here. Mr. Cooke, notwithstanding
the preacher's eloquence and his own efforts to the contrary,
fell asleep, to the no little annoyance of his companion, and
the amusement of those near him. and awoke in time to
walk very decently out of the church, with the rest of the con-
gregation.— Irtmldp's Life of Cooler ch. xxvii.

WILLIAM DUNLAP.

He fear'd its early hopes were o'er,
And flew to everlasting day.

0 drop thy mantle, sainted shade,

On some surviving patriot name,
Who, great by thy example made,

May yet retrieve a nation's fame !

The manly genius, ardent thought,

The love of truth and wit refined.
The eloquence that wonders wrought,

And flash'd its light on every mind.
These gifts were thine, immortal Ames!

Of motive pure, of life sublime ;
Their loss our flowing sorrow claims, —

Their praise survives the wreck of time.

Dr. Gardiner died at Harrowgate, England, on
a tour for his health, July 29, 1830, at the age of
sixty-five.*

WILLIAM DUNLAP.
The father of William Dunlap was an Irishman,
and came to this country as an officer in the Eng-
lish army sent out to attack Quebec. He was
wounded in the memorable engagement, and after
the war resigned his commission and settled in
Perth Amboy, New Jersey, where his only son
was born, February 19, 1766. The child's earli-
est instructor was a benevolent old bachelor by
the name of Thomas Bartow, who lived in a
pleasant cottage surrounded on three sides by a
garden filled with choice fruits, and well stocked
within with books and print-:, to all which the kind
old gentleman allowed his boy-friend free access,
taking great delight in teaching him the story of
the Iliad, HJneid, and Paradise Lost, by the pic-
tures in the old editions of Pope, Dryden, and
Milton. This pleasant intercourse was broken up
by no lessan event than the American Revolution;
the quiet old gentleman, a Royalist, retiring in-
land to Bethlehem, Pa., when the British men-of-
war made their appearance in New York bay at
the outset of the contest. After the landing of
the British on Staten Island, the Dunlap family
removed to the village of Piscatawa on the Rari-
tan, where they remained from 1775 to 1777, the
father siding with the Royalists. In 1777, they
removed to New York, and William was sent to
school. In June, 1778, when on a visit to Mr.
Elliott's country seat, afterwards the original
Sailor's Snug Harbor, " while playing with the
boys after dinner, he was struck by a bit of wood
and deprived of his right eye. The medical treat-
ment which ensued put a stop to any further re-
gular schooling. When after several months he
was allowed to use his remaining eye, he devoted
himself to drawing, to which he had early mani-
fested an inclination. In 1784, he was sent to
London to study under West, where he remained
about three years, passing most of the time, as he
candidly confesses, " in unprofitable idleness." In
1786, he made a pedestrian tour with Dr. Samuel
L. Mitcliill, who had just received his diploma at
Edinburgh, to Oxford. On his return, be settled
in New York ; married Elizabeth, daughter of
Benjamin Woolsey; and wrote a play which was j
accepted by the managers of the American Com- I

*Lorina's Boston Orators, iri8-72, 203. Buckingham's
Newspaper Reminiscences, ii. 223. Qnincy's History of the
Boston Athenu?um, and Memoir oi" Gardiner.

pany, Hallam and Henry, but owing to green-
room difficulties in the distribution of the parts
its oft postponed production never took place.
While the matter was in suspense, he wrote a se-
cond five act comedy, entitled The Father, in
which he was fortunate enough to "fit" the lead-
ing actors with parts, and the piece was brought
out September 7th, 1789.

The Father, afterwards published with the title
of The Father of an Only Child, is the best of
Dunlap's plays. The piece is of the sentimental
school, and the humor closely resembles that of
the productions of Oohnan the younger, and Mor-
ton. It was, however, written before the produc-
tions of these dramatists ; and the author seems
entitled to the originality he claims for his Tattle,
a rattling gossip who will bear a not unfavorable
comparison with his brother practitioner, Ollapod.
The scenes in which he is introduced are excellent.
We give a portion.

SCENE FROM THE COMEDY, " TIIE FATHER OF AN ONLT CniLD."

Present, liuspoti, Racket, Tattle, Mrs. Backet.
Enter Tattle.

Tat. Oh Racket, my dear fellow, how d'ye do ?

Rack, (asid) Ho, another infernal coxcomb!

Tat. What's the matter? You don't seem well
How d'ye do, ma'am? (To Rusport) Your servant,
sir. Racket, you have not introduced me to this gen-
tleman.

Rack. Captain Rusport, this is my friend, doctor
Tittle.

Tat. Yes, sir. Tattle ; Terebrate Tattle, M.D.

Rack. Doctor, this is captain Rusport, just arrived
in the last packet from Halifax.

Tat. How d'ye do, sir ? I'm very glad to see you
indeed. Very fine potatoes in Halifax. Racket!
this way. Here. Just come from abroad! You'll
recommend me.

Rack. If he should want a physician, I certainly

will (half aside) in the full hope that you will

poison him.

Tat. Thank you; thank you. Servant, ma'am.
Fine weather, ha? A little rainy, but that's good

538

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

for the country. (To Rusport) A fine season for
coughs and colds, sir. O Racket! my dear fellow,
I had forgot that I heard of your accideut. No great
harm done, I perceive. What a tremendous fall
you must have had ! Precipitated from the scaffold-
ing of a three story house, and brought with your
os parietale in contact with the pavement, while
your heels were suspended ill the air, by being en-
tangled in a mason's ladder.

Rack. Pooh, Pooh ! I tumbled from a cow's back,
and broke my nose.

Tat. Is that all? Why, I heard So, so, only

a contusion on the pons ?iasi. Ay, ay. I was called
up to a curious ease last evening.

Rack. Then I'm off. ( While Tattle is speaking,
Racket goes out ; and Rusport and Mrs. Racket re-
tire behind, laughing.)

Tat. Very curious case indeed. I had just finish-
ed my studies for the evening, smoked out my last
cigar, and got comfortably in bed. Pretty late. Very
dark. Monstrous dark. Cursed cold. Monstrous
cold, indeed, for the season. Very often the case
with us of the faeult}'. Called up at all times and
seasons. Used to be so when I was a student in Pa-
ris. Called up one night to a dancing-master, who
had his skull most elegantly fractured, his leg most
beautifully broke, and the finest dislocation of the
shoulder I ever witnessed. I soon put the shoulder
in sfate to draw the bow again, and his leg to caper
to the tune of it. As for the head, you know a
dancing-master's head, ma'am, (looking round) head
— head — Oh! there you are, are you? I beg your
pardon, I declare I thought you were by me. So
you see, madam, as I was saying, I was called up last

night to witness the most curious case (follows

them, talking) The bone of the right thigh ■

Re-enter Racket.

Rack. So, the doctor is at it still.

Tat. I'm glad you've come to hear it, Racket. The
bone of the right thigh — (Racket turns aicay) — The
bone of the right thigh, ma'arn — (she turns off) —
The bone of the right thigh, captaii.

Rusp. Ay, you must have gained great credit by
that cure, doctor.

Tat. Sir! What? 0, you mean the dancing-
master ! I can assure you, sir, I am sought for. I
have a pretty practice, considering the partiality
the people of this country have to old women's pre-
scriptions: hoar-hound, cabbage-leaves, robin-run-
away, dandy-grey-russet, and the like. A young
man of ever so liberal and scientific an education
can scarcely make himself known.

Mrs. Rack. But you have made yourself known,
doctor.

Tat. Why yes, ma'am. I found there were but
two methods of establishing a reputation, made use
of by our physicians; so, for fear of taking the
wrong, I took both.

Mrs. Rack. And what are they, doctor?

Tat. Writing for the newspapers, or challenging
and caning all the rest of the faculty.

Rack. These are methods of attaining notoriety.

Mrs. Rack. And notoriety, let me tell you, is often
the passport to wealth.

********

Rusp. Ha, ha ha! He is a queerity, by all that's
quizzish !

Rack. He is an insufferable bore.

Mrs. Rack. O no. I think he's very amusing,
now and then.

Rusp. He is a traveller, I think you say.

Rack. He has traversed France, Italy, and Ger-
many in pursuit of science.

3frs. Rack. But Science travelled faster than he

did, and cruelly eluded hi3 pursuit. Poor doctor I
The few ideas he has are always travelling post, and
generally upon cross roads. His head is like New
York on May-day, all the furniture wandering.

Re-enter Tattle.

Tat. Racket, I forgot to tell you

Mrs. Rack. Could not you find my sister?

Tat. I want to tell you, madam, of a monstrous
mollification

Rack. Pooh, pooh! Nonsense! Is Caroline at
home ?

Tat. Who ? 0 ! ah !— I had forgot. I don't know.
I'll tell you — I had ascended about half, perhaps two
thirds of the stair-case — ease — Did I tell you of the
case of the

Rack. Kay, stick to the stair-case.

Tat. No. I must descend. I happened to think,
without any apparent train of associated ideas lead-
ing to the thought, of an affair that happened last
night — nay you must listen — it's worth hearing. It's
quite likely that 1 told you some time ago of my
having emploj-ed a professor of the mechanical part
of painting to delineate my name upon ablack board
to put over my door. By the bye, it's a very mis-
taken notion, that the effluvia arising from the pig-
ments used in this branch of painting

Rack. Nay, nay, the sign. It was painted and put
over your door.

Tat. And looked very well too, didn't it ? Very
well, I'll assure you, captain. Terebrate Tattle, M. D.
Large gold characters; well and legibly designated.
This striking the organ of vision, or rather being im-
pressed on the retina in an inverted position, like the
figures in a camera obscura, and thence conveyed to
the mind, denoted 1113* place of residence. An inge-
nious device, and it answered my purpose. I got a
case of polypusses by it immediately.

Rusp. Pray, sir, what kind of instruments are they?

Tat. Nay, sir, polypusses are

Rack. Kay, but, doctor, the sign.

Tat. Ay. Right ! good ! So, sir, it was displayed,
to the ornament of the street, and the edification of
the passengers. Well, sir, last night, — last night, sir,
somebody or other took it down, — took it down,
sir, and nailed it over a duck-coop. " Terebrate Tat-
tle," say the gold letters ; " Quack, quack, quack,"
say the ducks. 'Twas illiberal, cursed illiberal ! —
What a beautiful fracture of the os femoris I saw

this morning ! The upper portion of the bone

********

Re-enter Tattle.

Tat. So. Racket, as I was saying

Rack, (disengaging himself) Infernal puppy !

Tat. The upper portion of the bone being very
much shattered, I had recourse to-

Rack. Excuse me. [Exit.

Tat. So, miss Susannah, the os femoris — the upper
portion of the os femoris.

Sus. None of sich names to me, Mr. Doctor I I
don't understand being called names, so I don't. Ox
feminine and feminine ox! You think I don't know
your meaning! It shows your breeding, so it does.
Feminine ox! La souls! [Exit.

Tat. Astonishing ignorance! Now she under-
stands no more of anatomy than I do of making a
custard. And these people will not be taught. You
might as well attempt to pour ipecacuanha down
their throats, as science into their ears. Well, I'll
publish this case of the fractured os femoris. If no-
body will hear it, perhaps somebody will rend it;
and there is much magic in print. Curious art.
Yes, I'll send it to the editor of the American Maga-
zine, and at least he and his printers must read it

[Exit.

WILLIAM DUNLAP.

A benevolent old officer, a lively wife who re-
forms a dissipated husband, Platoon a servant,
very closely after the model of Corporal Trim,
Susannah a simple-minded Audrey, Jacob a
German servant, and Rusport a showy British
officer, who turns out to be an impostor, furnished
the remainder of the varied and well sustained
dramatis persons. The piece was successful, and
ww followed by an Interlude entitled Darby's
Return. This was written for Wignell, the actor,
who was a great favorite in the character of Dar-
by in the " Poor Soldier," to which it formed a
sequel ; Darby, after various adventures in the
United States and Europe, returning to Ireland.
Washington, the author informs us, was present
at one of the representations.

The remembrance of this performance is rendered
pleasing from the recollection of the pleasure evinc-
ed by the first president of the tl. States, the immor-
tal Washington, who attended its representation.
The eyes of the audience were frequently bent on liis
countenance, and to watch the emotions produced
by any particular passage upon him was the simul-
taneous employment of all. When Wignell, as Dar-
by, recounts what had befallen him in America, in
New York, at the adoption of the Federal Constitu-
tion, and the inauguration of the president, the in-
terest expressed by the audience in the looks and
the changes of countenance of this great man became'
intense. He smiled at these lines alluding to the
change in the government —

There ton, I saw gome mighty pretty shows ;
A revolution, without blood or blows,
For, as I understood the cunning elves,
The people all revolted from theinsolves.

Put at the lines —

A man who fought to free the land from wo,
Like m<\ had left his farm, a soldiering to go,
But having gain'd his point, he had, lilcome,
Keturn'd his own potaloe ground to see.
But there he could not rest. With one accord
He's call'd to be a kind of — not a lord —
I don't know what, he's not a great man sure,
For poor men love him just as he were poor.
They love him like a father, or u brother.

DERMOT.
As we poor Irishmen love one another,
the president looked serious ; and when Kathleen
asked —

How look'd he, Darby ? .Was he short or tall?

his countenance showed embarrassment, from the ex-
pectation of one of those eulogiums which he had
been obliged to hear on many public occasions, and
Which must doubtless have been a severe trial to his
feelings; but Darby's answer that he had not seen
him, because he had mistaken a man " all lace and
glitter, botherum and shine" for him until all the
show had passed, relieved the hero from apprehen-
sion of further personality, and he indulged in that
which was with him extremely rare, a hearty laugh.

_ These successes, of course, brought the drama-
tist in close relations with the theatre. Other
pieces, tragic and comic, from bis pen were pro-
duced ; he appeared once upon the stage himself,
and in 1796 became an associate with Dallam
and Ilodgkinson in the management of the John
Street Theatre. On the 28th of January, 1798,
the company was transferred to the new'ly com-
pleted Park Theatre, suon after which Dunlap be-
came sole manager. On the 30th of March his
five act tragedy in blank verse on Andre was

produced with success. He kept the theatre well
supplied with other pieces from bis own pen,
mostly translations, making a great hit in a ver-
sion of Kotzebue's Stranger; and appears to have
conducted his business with spirit and intelli-
gence. The result was, however, disastrous, as on
the 22d of February, 1805, he closed the theatre a
bankrupt. In addition to this misfortune, he was
"a debtor to the United States as a security for
the marshal of New Jersey! w'10 was a defaulter."
During his management he bad kept his hand in
as an artist to some extent by painting " some
small sketchy likenesses" of Dr. Eliliti II. Smith,
C. B. Brown, and other literary associates of the
Friendly Club ; and he now devoted himself for
a number of years to his original profession. His
paintings were chiefly portraits. In 1800, he
again became connected as assistant manager with
a salary at the Park theatre, and so remained un-
til 1811. In 1812, he published the Memoirs of
the great " Star," George Frederick Cooke; a work
which, from his intimacy with the actor, he was
well prepared to write, and commenced a maga-
zine entitled the Recorder, which had but a brief
career. The numbers were collected into a vo-
lume with the title, " A Record Literary and Po-
litical of Five Months in the Year 1813 ; by Wil-
liam Dunlap and others." He also wrote a life
of his friend Charles Brockden Brown, accompa-
nied by a selection from his literary remains, which
he says, in apology for its unmethodical arrange-
ment, was made by Paid Allen of Baltimore, and
in part printed before the work was placed i.n his
hands. In 1814, he received the appointment of
Assistant Paymaster-General of the New York
State militia from Daniel I). Tompkins, a favor
which he attributes to the good offices of Wash-
ington Irving, then one of the general's aides.
This he held until the close of the year 1816,
when he resumed the brush. In his fifty-fifth,
year he painted a picture 18 by 12 feet, after tho
printed descriptions of West's " Christ Rejected,"
which was exhibited in most of the cities and
towns of the Un' ted States with success. On the
5th of May, 1828, he opened to the public an ori-
ginal painting 18 by 14 of "Calvary." This ho
also carried to various parts of the United States.
In the winter of 1831 and '2, he delivered in New
York two lectures on the fine arts. In 1833, his
History of the American Theatre was published,
and on the 28th of February following he received
the well deserved honor of a complimentary bene-
fit at the Park Theatre, which placed the hand-
some sum of twenty-five hundred dollars in his
pocket. His History of the Arts of Design in
the United States was published by subscription
in 1834. It forms two octavo volumes, and con-
tains full biographical notices of all the artists in
every department of design in the oountry,abounds
in anecdote as well as information collected with
great pains from original sources, which cannot
be found elsewhere, and is tho most valuable of the
author's productions.

In 1836, he published a novel entitled Tliirty
Years Ago ; or the Memoirs of a Water Drinker,
which he dedicated to "all Temperance Societies."
He introduces in it many of his old recollections
of New York, bringing in the moral of his story
in the disastrous convivial habits of George Fre-
derick Cooke, whoso conversation is the main

540

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

theme of the book. The old Park Theatre and
its group of actors figure largely -with the no-
tices of the main personages of the city. Dunlap
delighted to trace its historic scenes, and has pur-
sued this theme agreeably in these volumes in his
chapter on the Battery ; and a description of the
Inauguration of Washington at Federal Hall, in a
dinner party conversation. Among the incidents
of Cooke's life, the hoaxing duel with Cooper at
Cato's is described with humorous effect by Dun-
lap, who enters with gusto into the grand style of
his favorite subject, whose life he had written in
a graver measure.

In 1837, his History of New York for Schools
appeared in two duodecimo volumes. This lit-
tle book is written in the form of a dialogue be-
tween an uncle and his nephews. It is mainly taken
up with the city, and contains notices of the men
distinguished in art and literature as well as state
affairs, who have graced its annals. The pictur-
esque incidents of the Revolution are minutely and
vividly .depicted, and an additional historical va-
lue is given to the work by several well executed
wood-cuts of old houses, and other interesting lo-
calities. The look closes with the inauguration
of Washington.

His success in this effort probably induced one
of a more elaborate character on the same topic.
His History of New Netherlands, Province of
New York, and State of New York, appeared in
two octavo volumes in 1839. It is a work of in-
dustry and re.-earch, and contains a valuable ap-
pendix, occupying half of the second volume, in
which he has collected a number of curious facts
relating to manners and customs. It closes at the
same period with his previous history.

Dunlap died soon after the completion of this
work, September 28, 1839.

A NIGHT ON THE HUDSON RIVER WITH CIIARLES MATHEWS.

FROM THE HISTORY OF THE AMERICAN THEAffRE.

It was in the month of April, in the year 1823,
that I embarked with two hundred and fifty others,
in the steamboat Chancellor Livingston, for Albany.
After the bustle of leave-takii g, and the various
ceremonies and multifarious acts of hurried business
which daily take place on the departure of one of
these self-moving hotels from the city of Kew York,
I had leisure to look around me, with the intention
of finding some acquaintance as a companion, or at
least to satisfy my curiosity as to who were on
board.

I had seen many faces known to me when I first
entered tlie boat, but they had vanished: all ap-
peared, at first, strange. I soon, however, observed
James Fennimore Cooper, the justly-celebrated no-
velist, in conversation with Dr. Francis. The last-
mentioned gentleman I had long known, but with
the first my acquaintance was of recent date. We
had occasionally met at the bookstore of Wiley, his
publisher ; but it was not until after the circum-
stance I am now recording that an intimacy took
place, which has been to me a source of very great
pleasure.

I soon after noted a man of extraordinary appear-
ance, who moved rapidly about the deck, and occa-
sionally joined the gentlemen above named. His
age might be forty ; his figure tall, thin, and mus-
cular ; one leg was shorter than the other, which,
although it occasioned a halt in his gait, did not im-
pede his activity ; his features were extremely irre-

gular, yet his physiognomy was intelligent, and his
eyes remarkably searching and expressive. I had
never seen Mathews, either in private or public,
nor do 1 recollect that I had at that time ever seen
any representation of him, or heard his person
described; but I instantly concluded that this was
no other than the celebrated mimic and player.
Doubtless his dress and manner, which were evi-
dently English, and that peculiarity which still
marks some of the votaries of the histrionic art,
helped me to this conclusion. I say, " still marks ;"
for I remember the time when the distinction was
so gross that a child would say, " There goes a play-
actor."

The afternoon was uncommonly fine for our cli-
mate in the cold month of April. The passengers
generally kept the deck. We had not gone far on
our voyage before the author of The Spy (for he
was then chiefly known by that fascinating work)
accosted me nearly thus : — " I understand from Ma-
thews that you and he have never met. He is on
board, and has expressed a wish to be introduced to
you. Have you seen him off the stage ln
" No — nor on."

" Is it possible ! There he stands with Francis."
" I have been noticing that figure, and had come
to a conclusion that it was Mathews."

" His figure is odd enough, to be sure. I suppose
you know that his lameness and the deficiency in
the regular symmetry of his face are owing to his
being thrown from a gig, and very much injured by
the fall ; but these defects are not seen on the stage,
or are turned to good account by his skill in his
profession."

Part of this passed as we approached the subject
of the dialogue, and I soon made acquaintance with
Charles Mathews. He introduced the subject of
George Frederick Cooke and his Memoirs, compli-
mented the author of them, and of course made
himself agreeable. Fennimore was very attentive
to me, and appeared to wish my gratification by a
display of tlie talents of Mathews, who, as the
novelist afterwards told me, was at his suggestion
making a voyage to Albany, that he might see
something more of America and American manners
than are to be found in a seaport town.

The figure and manner of the actor were suffi-
ciently uncommon to attract the attention of a
throng of men usually employed in active business,
but here placed in a situation which, of all others,
calls for something to while away time ; but when
) some who traced the likeness between the actor
on the deck of the steamboat and the actor on
the stage of the theatre, buzzed it about that this
was the mirth-inspiring Mathews, curiosity showed
itself in as many modes as there were varieties of
character in the motley crowd around him.

This very natural and powerful propensity, which
every person who exposes himself, or herself, upon
a public stage, to the gaze of the mixed multitude,
wishes ardently to excite, was, under the present
peculiar circumstances of time, place, and leisure,
expressed in a manner rather annoying to the hero
of the sock, who would now have willingly appeared
in the character of a private gentleman.

There are individuals who can generally overcome
this difficulty by dint of character, talent, or per-
sonal appearance ; but in the case before us there
was nothing sufficiently dignified to repress the
clownish propensities of such among the crowd as
were clowns, and they were not a few.

The passengers in the Chancellor Livingston find-
ing themselves on the same boards with the cele-
brated Mathews, and at liberty to gaze without
j paying for it, at the man who had delighted them

WILLIAM DUNLAP.

511

on the stage, gratified their curiosity without much
ceremony; and whenever Mathews was perceived
to be stationary, and, with his usual animation,
amusing his immediate companions, the watchful
loungers closed around by degrees, and according to
character, feeling, or education, became distant or
nearer auditors and admirers of the wondrous man.

One clown, in particular, followed the object of
his very sincere admiration with a pertinacity which
deserved a better return than it met. He was to
Mathews a perfect Monsieur Tonson, and his appear-
ance seemed to excite the same feelings. The novelist
and physician pointed out to me the impertinent
curiosity of this admirer of the actor, and we all
took some portion of mischievous delight in observ-
ing the irritability of Mathews. It increased to a,
ludicrous degree when Mathews found that no effort
or change of place could exclude his tormentor from
his sight; and when, after having made an effort to
avoid him, he, on turning his head, saw Monsieur
Tonson fixed as a statue, again listening in motion-
less admiration to his honeyed words; the actor
would suddenly change from the animated relation
of story or anecdote, with which he had been enter-
taining his companions, to the outpouring of a
rhapsody of incoherent nonsense, uttered with in-
credible volubility : without altering his former
manner, he would rattle off something like, " Snr-
danapalus Heliogabalus Faustina and Kitty Fisher
with their fourteen children Cecrops Moses Ariadne
Robinson Crusoe Ximrod Captain Cooke Bonaparte
and Jack the Giant-Killer had a long confab with
Nebuchndonozer Sir Walter Raleigh and the pope
on the best mode of making caraway comfits." But
he found that this only made his admirer listen
more intently, and open his eyes and mouth more
widely and earnestly. As happens with many other
orators, the more unintelligible his nonsense, the
greater was the admiration of the auditor.

We had but one regular meal on the passage, a
very plentiful supper, at about seven o'clock, with
tea and coffee. We had embarked at 5 P. M., and
arrived at Albany by suurising. The meal was not
suited to the habits of Mr. Mathews, and he was i
offended by both the matter and manner of it; but
when the preparations for sleeping took place, and !
he found that the whole company, females excepted, !
must seek rest in the same cabin, some in berths and |
others accommodated with mattresses on the floor,
his feelings revolted, and he protested against taking
rest on such terms.

To this feeling I am indebted for a night of much
amusement; I should be unjust if I did not add, and
some instruction. I had secured a mattress on the
floor of one of the cabins, and should have dully
slept away at least part of the night, but that Fen-
nimore Cooper gave me intimation of Mathews's '
wisli to sit up, and of his (Cooper's) success in obtain-
ing the captain's cabin on the deck of the vessel,
where Mathews, Francis, and himself had deter-
mined to enjoy a supper, whiskey-punch, and such
convivial pleasure as could be extracted from such
circumstances, and such a meeting. I was invited
to make one, and readily accepted the invitation.

Seated in the captain's cabin, and freed from all
annoyance, Mathews became, as usual, the fiddle of |
the company; and story, anecdote, imitation, and
song poured from him with the rapidity and bril-
liancy of the stars which burst from a rocket on a
rejoicing night. To make himself still more agree-
able to the senior, he introduced the memoirs of ,
George Frederick, with that flattery which is deli-
cious to all men, and peculiarly so to an author.
"The story of Cooke and Mrs. Burns," he added,
" you havo told remarkably well, and when I have

introduced it in my ' Youthful Days' I have always
taken your words ; but Tom Cooper from whom, as
I understand, you had it, forgot the termination of
the story', — the real denouement, — which makes it
infinitely more dramatic."

All joined in the request that Mathews would
tell the story in his own way, and he, nothing loath,
began : —

" I was a raw recruit in the Thespian corps, and
it was my first campaign in Dublin. Chance made
me a fellow-lodger with Cooke, at the house of Mis-
tress Burns. 1 had looked at the great actor with
an awful reverence, but had not yet been honoured
by any notice from him.

" In getting up Maeklin's Love a la Mode, I had
been cast for Beau Mordecai, and assuredly a more
unfit representative of the little Jew can scarcely he
imagined. As tall as I now am, I had then all the
rawboned awkwardness of a hobbletehoy, and no
knowledge of the world or of the stage. But Mr.
Cooke must be shown to the Dublin public as Sir
Arehj', and there was no other Mordecai to be had.
I was, however, perfect in the words ; and if I mur-
dered the Jew, I did it impartially ; I murdered
him ' every inch.'

" After the farce, I tarried, as you Yankees say, a
considerable time at the theatre, rather choosing to
linger among the almost expiring dipped candles of
the dressing-rooms thai) to seek, through rnist and
mud, my lofty but comfortless abode in Mrs. Burns's
garret ; but the property-man gave me my cue to
depart, by putting out the lights ; and I was slowly
mounting to my bed, when, as I passed the room of
the great man, I saw him (the door being open) sit-
ting with a jug before him, indulging after the
labours of the evening. I was stealing by, and had
already one foot on the flight of stairs which led to
my exalted apartment, when I was arrested by a
loud, high-pitched voice, crying, ' Come hither,
young man.' I could scarcely believe my senses : I
hesitated. ' Come in,' was repeated. I advanced.
' Shut the door, and sit down.' I obeyed. He
assumed an air of courtesy, and calling upon Mis-
tress Burns for another tumbler, filled for himself
and me. ' You will be so kind, my good Mistress
Burns, as to bring another pitcher of whiskey -punch
in honour of our young friend.' ' To be sure and
I will, Mr. Cooke.' The punch was brought, and a
hot supper, an unusual luxury then to me. After
supper, the veteran, quite refreshed and at ease,
chatted incessantly of plays and players, — lashing
some, commending others, — while I, delighted to be
thus honoured, listened and laughed; thus playing
naturally and sincerely the part of a most agreeable
companion. After the third jug of punch, I was
sufficiently inspired to ask a few questions, and even
to praise the acting of the veteran.

" ' To use your own words, as I have often before
done,' said Mathews, addressing himself to the bio-
grapher, ' one jug of whiskey-punch followed the
other,' and Cooke began to advise his young com-
panion how to conduct himself on the real and on
the mimic scene of life. ' You are young, and want
a friend to guide you. Talent you have; but talent
without prudence is worthless, and may be per-
nicious. Take my word for it, there is nothing can
place a man at the head of Ids profession but industry
and sobriety. Mistress Burns ! — shun ebriety as you
would shun destruction. Mistress Burns! another
jug of whiskey-punch, Mistress Burns.'

" ' Oh, Mister Cooke — '

" ' You make it so g>od, Mistress Burns ; another

jug-'

" ' Yes, Mister Cooke.'

" ' In our profession, my young friend, dissipation

542

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

is the bane of hundreds ; " villanous company" — low
company leads to drinking ; and the precious time
is lost which should have been employed in gaining
that knowledge which alone can make men respect-
able. Ah ! thank you, Mistress Burns : this has the
true Ilibernia smack ?' "

" ' You may say that, Mister Cooke.' "

It is needless to remind the reader, that with the
aid of Mathews's powers of imitation, sometimes
called ventriloquism in this humbugging world, all
this and much more would be extremely pleasant,
and the more especially as the company had re-
peated supplies of the same inspiring beverage from
the steward, and almost as good, certainly as strong,
as that of Mistress Burns's.

Mathews went on to describe the progress of
Cooke's intoxication, during which his protests
against drunkenness became stronger with each
glass. He then undertook to instruct the tyro in
the histrionic art, and especially in the manner of ex-
hibiting the passions. Here it would be vain to
endeavour to follow Mathews: Cooke's grimaces
and voice, — while his physical powers, under the
government of whiskey, rebelled at every effort
against the intention of the lecturer, — were depicted
by the mimic in a manner beyond the conception of
even those who have seen the public exhibition of
his talents: here all was unrestrained gig and fun,
and the painting truly con amove, and glowing from
heart and glass.

" It must be remembered," continued Mr. Ma-
thews, " that I was but a boy, and Cooke in the full
vigour of manhood, with strength of limb and voice
Herculean. I had the highest reverence for his
talents, and literally stood in awe of him ; so that
when he made his horrible faces, and called upon
me to name the passion he had depicted, I was truly
frightened, — overwhelmed with the dread of offend-
ing him, and utterly at a loss to distinguish one gri-
mace from another, except as one was more and
another most savnge and disgusting.

" ' Sow, sir — observe — what's that?'

" ' Revenge — '

" ' Revenge, you booby ! Pity ! pity !'

" Then, after making another hideous contortion
of countenance, he cries,

" 'What is that, sir?'

" ' Yery fine, sir; very fine, indeed.'

" ' But what is it, sir ?'

" Forced to answer, and utterly unable to guess
the meaning of the distorted face which he then
again thrust before me, I stammered out,

" ' Anger, sir.'

" 'Anger !'

" ' Yes, sir ; anger, to be sure.'

" ' To be sure you are a blockhead! Look again,
sir look nsrain ! It's fear, sir — fear. You play I
you a play l. '

Mathews then exhibited the face of Cooke, as
he distorted it to express the tender passion, — a
composition of Satanic malignity and the brutal
leering of a drunken satyr, — and imitating Cooke's
most discordant voice, cried,

". ' There, sir ; that's love.'

" This," continued Matthews, " was more than I
could bear: even my fears could not restrain my
laughter : I roared. He stared at first ; but imme-
diately assuming a most furious aspect, he cried,

" ' What do you laugh at, sir ! Is George Frede-
rick Cooke to be made a laughing-stock for a booby I
What, sir !'

" Luckily, at that moment Mrs. Burns stood with
the door partly opened, and another jug in her
hands. ' You must pardon me, sir,' I said, with a
quickness which must have been the inspiration of

whiskey, ' but you happened to turn your soft and
languishing look' towards the door just as Mrs. Burns
opened it, and I could not but think of the dangerous
eifect of such a look upon her sex's softness.'

" He laughed ; and embracing the jug as the good
woman put it down, he looked at Mrs. Burns, and
with some humour endeavoured to sing. How happy
could I be with cither, were t' oilier dear charmer
away, but with a voice which defies art and nature
for a comparison.

" Mrs. Burns now protested against any more
punch ; but after some time agreed, upon Cooke's
solemn promise to be satisfied with one more jug, to
bring it.

" ' But remember your honour, Mister Cooke ;
and that is the jewel of a jontleman ; and sure you
have pledged it to me, 5-ou have.'

" ' I have, my good Mistress Burns ; and it is
" the immediate jewel of the soul," as you say.'

" ' I said no such thing ; but I'll be as good as my
word; and one more jug you shall have, and the
divil a bit more, jewe or no jewel.'

" I was heartily tired by this time, and placed mo
hope on Mrs. Burns's resolution. The last jug came,
and was finished ; and I wished him good night.

" ' Not yet, my dear boy.'

" ' It's very late, sir.'

" ' Early, early : one jug more.'

" ' Mrs. Burns will not let us have it, sir.'

" 'She will not I I'll show you that presently !'"

Then followed a fine specimen of imitation ; Ma-
thews, as Cooke, calling upon Mrs. Burns (who was
in the room below, and in bed), and then giving her
answers, as coming up through the floor, in the man-
ner called ventriloquism.

" ' Mistress Burns ! Do you hear, Mistress
Burns ?'

" ' Indeed and I do, Mister Cooke.'

" ' Bring me another jug of whiskey-punch, Mis-
tress Burns !' .

" ' Indeed and I won't, Mister Cooke I"

" ' You won't ?'

" ' Indeed and indeed so I won't.'

" ' Do you hear that, Mistress Burns ?' (smashing
the jug on the floor).

" ' Indeed and I do, and you'll be sorry for it to-
morrow.' "

He then regularly took the chairs, one by one,
and broke them on the floor immediately over Mrs.
Burns's head, after every crash crying, " Do you
hear that, Mistress Burns ?" and she as regularly
answering, " Indeed and I do, Mr. Cooke." He next
opened the window, and threw the looking-glass
into the street.

" I stood," continued Mathews, ■' in a state of
stupid amazement during this scene ; but now at-
tempted to make my escape, edging towards the
door, and making a long stride to gain the garret
stairs.

" ' Come back, sir ! Where are you going V

" ' To bed, sir.'

" 'To bed, sir! What, sir! desert me! I com-
mand you to remain, on }'our allegiance ! Desert
me in time of war I Traitor !'

" I now determined to make resistance ; and feel-
I ing pot-valiant, looked big, and boldly answered,

" ' I will not be commanded ! I will go to bed !'

" ' Aha !' cried the madman, in his highest key,
! ' Aha ! do you rebel ? Caitiff ! wretch ! mur-
! derer !'

" He advanced upon me, and I shrank to nothing
before his flashing eye. ' Murderer !' and he seized
me by the collar with Herculean grip, ' You will
go ! I will send you to the place you are fittest for!
Murderer, I'll drag you to your doom 1 I'll give

WILLIAM DUNLAP.

5.43

you up to Fate ! Come along, caitiff !' and he
dragged me to the open window, vociferating,
' Watch ! watch ! murder ! murder !' in his highest
and loudest key.

" Immediately the rattles were heard approaching
in all directions, and a crowd instantly collected.
He continued vociferating, ' Watch ! watch ! mur-
der!' until the rattles and exclamations of the watch-
men almost drowned his stentorian voice.

" * What's the matter ? who's kilt ? who's mur-
dered ? Where's the murderer ?'

" ' Silence !' screamed Cooke, ' hear me !' All
became hushed. Then holding me up to the win-
dow, the raving tragedian audibly addressed the
crowd : — ' In the name of Charles Macklin, I charge
this culprit, Charles Mathews, with the most foul,
cruel, deliberate, and unnatural murder of the un-
fortunate Jew, Beau Mordecai, in the farce of Love
a la Mode.' Then pulling down the window, he
cried, ' Now go to bed, you booby ! go to bed ! go
to bed! go to bed !' "

The steamboat party remained together until near
morning, and then retired to rest. Let it not be
supposed that they imitated the folly of the hero of
the above tale because whiskey-punch has been
mentioned. The evening, or night, was one of real
interchange of mind, heightened by the peculiar
powers and habits of the very extraordinary his-
trionic artist who gave this instance of Cooke's
eccentric and pernicious propensities.

A SCENE WITH COOKE AND COOPER AT CATO'S — FROM THE ME-
MOIRS OF A WATER-DRINKER.

Who has not heard of Cato Alexander's f Not to
know 'l Cato's," is not to know the world. At least
bo it was thought twenty-five or thirty years ago.
But as all our readers are not supposed to be ac-
quainted with the world, we must point out the
situation, and describe the localities of — Cato's — that
our tale may be duly understood, and its incidents
appreciated.

Between four and five miles north-east from the
building called in New York the City Hall, in front
of which we first met our readers, and introduced
them to our hero, and other personages of note, 3Tet
to be made more intimately known — between four
and five miles from this building, on the west side of
the old Boston-road, stands this celebrated tavern,
owned and kept by Cato Alexander, and called, from
the landlord, " Cato's."

Cato, the keeper of a road tavern ! Alexander the
bearer of gin toddy to a whiskered shop-boy on a
Sunday! Cato — Alexander — what awful names!
How full of associations ! each singly denoti g the
conqueror of self, or the conqueror of the world;
now united to designate a servant of vicious and
pampered appetites!

Do not let us be mistaken. Cato of Cato's was no
worse a man than the tens of thousands with whiter
faces, who administer to the pride, passions, and
vices of the multitude. He was neither more nor
less than the keeper of an eating and drinking-house;
one whose lawful trade is to tempt to excess, and
who may legally live by administering poison.

It would puzzle any but a philosopher to find a
reason for that preference " Cato's" lias enjoyed for
many years overall the many receptacles of idleness
and intemperance which stand invitingly open on
the roads and avenues leading to and from our moral
and religious city. We, being a philosopher, have
found it,' and can communicate. It is preferred to
other houses of refuge from temperance, that are
known under the appellation of retreats, (such as
" Citizen's Retrent," " Fireman's Retreat," " Mecha-
nic's Retreat," " Old Countryman's Retreat," and a

hundred other retreats from public notice, or domes-
tic duties,) not because its situation has more of rural
retirement — for it stands full in view of the traveller
or way-farer. It is not a retreat from noise, for that
resounds within ; nor from dusl^, for that it invites
and receives from every wheel and hoof that pnsses.
It is not preferred because it enjoys or gives its vi-
sitors better or more extensive prospects than its
rivals, for it commands no view but of the dirty high-
road, a cabbage-garden, a horse-shed, and a sign-
post ; nor is 'it chosen for that the breezes of either
land or sea bear health or refreshment to its admir-
ers ; for the land rises on every side, barring every
wind that blows from visiting it too roughly. Nei-
ther is it the spacious apartments or elegant furni-
ture that gives it preference, for its inmates are
cabined, cribbed, and confined in cells like acorn-
cups, compared with the halls and saloons of the
town hotels and gambling-houses. But, Mrs. Catois
a notable cook. The " cibin is convenient." There
are none but black faces belonging to the establish-
ment. We feel that we are " right worshipful." All
around is subserviency. Desdemona saw Othello's
visage in his mind ; it is, to some, pleasing to see the
badge of subserviency in the visage.

■#■ i£ ^ vt 96 ■£ -ift &

Leave we the company of thought-drown ers, and
meet them again by-aud-by. Some hours had pass-
ed. Spiffard had tired of the noise of the table,
wearied with flashes of merriment not inspired by
wit, but by wine; not the genuine and healthy pro-
geny of the reasoning faculty when indulging in
sportive recreation, but the mere empty ebullition
of excited animal spirits, without the guidance or
control of reason. He had walked up and down the
road in search of a pleasant place for retirement, but
finding none, seated himself upon a bench under a
building erected for the reception of water drinkers,
— it was the horse-shed in front of the house. The
tavern lias a piazza, but the noise of the revel-
lers made it almost as disagreeable as the smoke-in-
cumbered dining-room. The tumult increased so as
to reach the place of refuge he had chosen. Dis-
cordant sounds commingled in confusion, the mono-
tony of which was broken by the high, harsh,
screeching and croaking of Cooke's notes of inebria-
tion.

"I'm your man, sir! — a dead shot, sir! George
Frederick is the name to eovi a yankee!"

The whole party now issued to the piazza, and af-
ter a preliminary discussion of the mode in which
wounded honour was to be cured by the duello, (a
discussion of which Spiffard only heard pieces or
snatches of sentences, as " ten paces — five paces, — ■
yankee actor, — dead shot," they descended, and took
a station between the tavern and the horse-shed.

It now appeared that Cooke and Cooper were to
be pitted, not as actors, but as duellists. The seconds
were busy loading the pistols, (an implement of
death or amusement always kept in readiness at Ca-
to's.) Cooke became silent and dignified, only show-
ing by increased energy in his step, (not always pro-
perly applied.) and increased colour in his face, the
increase of his ebriety. His antagonist was all po-
liteness— the established etiquette with those who
meet to murder. The seconds and witnesses display-
ed to the eye of the water-drinker, or any other ra-
tional animal, that they were all so far blinded them-
selves, that they could notsee how plainly they were
exposing their supposedly deep-hidden hoax to any
clear-sighted spectator.

The word was given. The two tragedians fired at
the same moment, or nearly so. Cooke's second took
advantage of the smoke and noise to thrust a stick
through his principal's coat, to produce a bullet-hole.

544

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

at the same time he threw his left arm around
him, as if for support, crying, "He has hit you,
sir."

But Cooke was in one of those half-mad, half-cun-
ning paroxysms, which enabled him to act as the
subject of the hoax, while he in reality hoaxed the
hoaxers; and enjoyed all the pleasure of acting the
part of the dupe, with the assurance of duping those
who thought they were playing upon him. He was
assuming the madman, and sufficiently mad to enjoy
all the pleasure which " only madmen know." Pre-
tending to believe that he was hit by his opponent's
ball, lie, with a force which only madness could give,
threw out his left arm, and hurled his officiously de-
signing second several paces from him, reeling until
the eow-yard (the court-yard of the establishment)
received him at fall length. As the smoke evaporat-
ed, Cooper was seen extended in mock agonies ; his
second and others of the party, leaning over him in
pretended mourning.

"Mr. Cooke, your ball has passed through the
lungs of poor Cooper, I'm afraid. The surgeon is
examining the wound. There is little hope — "

"None, sirrl I never miss. He is the tenth. I
am sorry for him." He stalked up to the pretended
hurt man with due gravity. This was a precious
opportunity for the veteran to mingle sarcasm and
mock regrets, and to pay the hoaxers in their own
coin, stampt anew in the mint of his brains, and he
did not let it escape him.

"Poor Tom, poor ' Tom's acold!' I'm sorry for
him. I'm sorry that his farthing-eamlle-life was ex-
tinguished by my hand, although he deserved death
from none more. ' This even-handed justice com-
mends the ingredients of our murderous pistols to
our own breasts. I warned him of my unerring aim ;
but the ' thief will seek the halter.' How do you
find his wound, sirr ?"

" I am examining it, sir; I am torturing him."

" It is no more than he has done to hundreds of
hearers."

" I am afraid, sir, he will never play again."

"Then by murdering him honourably, I have pre-
vented many dishonourable murders. Shade of
Shakespeare, applaud me I He will never again
murder Macbeth instead of Duncan, or throttle
Othello instead of Desdemona. I am a second Ma-
homet overthrowing idolatry ! The wooden god of
the Yankee-doodles lies prostrate! Fie, George
Frederick, to triumph over a block. Farewell, poor
Tom! poor enough." This was said over his shoul-
der. " 1 could have better spared a better actor —
but let that pass, while we pass to our pious medita-
tions. Who takes order for the funeral ? Bear the
body in !" When sober none did more justice to bis
rival's merit, although now so scurrilously unjust.

" He revives, sir. There is hope yet," said the
surgeon.

" Then may the poets mourn."

While the pretended dead duellist was removed
into the house, Cooke's second approached him, ex-
claiming, " The horses are ready, sir ; we must

fly-", .

" We, sir! when I fly or creep, I choose my com-
pany. George Frederick Cooke never flies from
danger. Fly, sir! if the idol of Yankee-land lives,
there is nothing to apprehend from his worshippers,
nothing to fly from, except when he acts; and if he
dies, and by p/y hand, I have honoured him,, and
benefited the world." So saying, the hero strutted
most sturdily to the steps of the piazza, where, feel-
ing the difficulty of ascent, he recollected his wound
called for assistance, and was supported to the table,
at which sat, like another Banquo, the man whose
fall he triumphed over.

ALEXANDER WILSON.
Alexander, Wilson, the first to claim the title
of the American Ornithologist, was born at
Paisley, Scotland, July 6, 1766. His parents
were persons in humble but respectable circum-
stances, and their anticipations for their son
seem to have looked forward to a, time, as ex-
pressed in his own words,

AVhen, clad in sable gown, with solemn air,
The walls of God's own house Bhould echo back
his prayer.

The death of his mother, when he was ten
years old, and the re-marriage of his father not
long after, probably prevented the execution of
this plan. July 31, 1773, he was apprenticed to
a weaver, and an entry on the indenture, dated
" Agst, 1782," records in verse the expiration of
his time :—

Be't kent to a' the warld in rhime,
That wi' right mickle wark an' toil,

For three lang years I've ser't my time,
Whiles feasted wi' the hazel oil.

He continued working at the loom for four
years longer, varying his labors, as during his
novitiate, with various attempts at poetry. One
of the couplets shows the restiveness of his active
mind and body, under his sedentary and mono-
tonous employment : —

Good gods! shall a mortal with legs,
So low uncomplaining be brought.

About the close of this period he was at work for
William Duncan, his brother-in-law, under whom
he had served his apprenticeship. Duncan deter-
mined to make a venture as a pedlar, and Wilson,
considering that occupation a much more appro-
priate one for a "mortal with legs," accompanied
him. Three years of his life were employed in
this manner, during which he visited various
portions of Scotland, digressing from his route
to all places of literary or romantic interest
which lay within reasonable distance. His op-
portunities of observation increased his taste for
writing, by furnishing him with ample material
to work upon ; and we find him, in 1789, making
a contract with Mr. John Neilson, a Paisley
printer, for an edition of his poems. He added
a number of prospectuses to the varied contents
of his pack, and set off afresh with purposes
pleasantly recorded in a journal which he kept of
his tour.

As youth is the most, favourable time to establish
a man's good fortune in the world, and as his success
in life depends, in a great measure, on his prudent
endeavours, and unwearied perseverance, I have
resolved to make one bold push for the united inte-
rests of pack and poems. Nor can any one justly
blame me for it, since experience has now convinced
me, that the merit I am possessed of (which is cer-
tainly considerable) might lie for ever. buried in
obscurity, without such an attempt. I have, there-
fore, fitted up a proper budget, consisting of silks,
muslins, prints, ifcc. for the accommodation of those
good people who may prove my customers, — a suffi-
cient quantity of proposals for my poetical friends;
and, to prevent those tedious harangues, which
otherwise I would be obliged to deliver at every
threshold, I have, according to the custom of the
most polite pedlars, committed the contents of my

ALEXANDER 'WILSON'.

545

pack to a handbill, though in a style somewhat re-
mote from any I have yet seen.

ADVERTISEMENT EXTRAORDINARY.

Fair ladies, I pray, for one moment to stay,

Until with submission I tell you,
What muslins so curious, for uses so various,

A poet has here brought to sell you.

Here's handkerchiefs charming ; book-muslins like
ermine.

Brocaded, striped, corded, and cheek'd ;
Sweet Venus, they say, on Cupid's birth-day,

In British-made muslins was deck'd.

If these can't content ye, here's muslins in plenty,

From one shilling up to a dozen,
That Juno might wear, and more beauteous appear,

When she means the old Thunderer to cozen.

Here are fine jaconets, of numberless sets,

With spotted and sprigged festoons;
And lovely tambours, with elegant flowers,

For bonnets, cloaks, aprons, or gowns.

Now, ye Fair, if ye choose any piece to peruse,

With pleasure I'll instantly shew it:
If the Pedlar should fail to be favor'd with sale,

Then I hope you'll encourage the Poet.

Though the subscription part of the enterprise
was a failure, the book was printed in July,
1700, and the author again made his roimds to
deliver copies to the few subscribers he had ob-
tained, and sell to some of the many who were
not. Poetry is said to be a drug on a publisher's
shelves, and can only be an active commodity of
a pedlar's pack when its proprietor is on foot.
The second tour produced a disgust to the. busi-
ness, and he abandoned it for the loom at Paisley.
That had not been long in motion before he
heard of a proposed discussion at an Edinburgh
debating society, composed of a portion of the
city literati, as to "whether have the exertions
of Allan Ramsay or Robert Fergusson done more
honor to Scottish poetry?" He borrowed the
poems of the latter poet, worked hard by day to
earn the means to travel to Edinburgh, and by
night at a poem, The Laurel Disputed, which ho
read at the time and place of the discussion,
before the assembled "Forum." The audience
did not agree with him in his preference of Fer-
gnsson, but the merits of the performance gained
him friends — among others, Dr. Anderson, for
whose periodical of the Bee he became a contri-
butor.

Before leaving town he recited two other
poems, Rab and Ringan, and The Loss o' the
Pack, and published with his friend Ebenezer
Picken, who had taken the part of Ramsay in
blank verse, a pamphlet, entitled The Laurel
Disputed; or, the Merits of Allan Ramsay and
Robert Fergusson Contrasted, in Two Poetical
Essays, by E. Picken and A. Wilson. On return-
ing to Paisley, when his funds were exhausted,
his Edinburgh success induced him to bring out
a second edition of his poems. The volume, with
the title, Poems, Humorous, Satirical, and Serious,
was issued immediately, and the author again
attempted to be his own bookseller, and again
failed.

In 1792, his poem of Watty and Meg was pub-
lished anonymously. It met with very great
success — one hundred thousand copies being sold

vol.. i. — 35

within a few weeks — and received the high honor
of being attributed to Burns. This was a great
gratification to the author, who entertained a
high regard for the great poet, and had pre-
viously made his acquaintance by a letter which
he wrote to Burns on the first publication of his
poems, in which he objected to some on the score
of immorality. Burns replied he was so used to
such communications that he usually paid no
attention to them ; but that as Wilson showed
himself to be a good poet, he would, in this in-
stance, vindicate himself. Wilson afterwards
visited Burns at Ayrshire.

A dispute arising between the manufacturers
and weavers of Paisley, Wilson, in the interest of
j the latter, wrote several satirical poems against
the former, which were handed around in MS.
One of these, The Shark, or Long Mills Detected,
he sent in manuscript to the person it attacked,
with an offer to suppress it iorjire guineas. For
this he was prosecuted, and on conviction sent to
jail for a few days, and to burn his poem in pub-
lic. The latter portion of his sentence was put
in execution on the sixth of February, 1793. In
consideration to his feeling*, no public notice was
given, and the act was witnessed only by the
chance passers-by. The poem had already been
secretly printed after the commencement of the
prosecution, in the preceding May.* This occur-
rence was, no doubt, one of the causes of his
emigration to America. The others were his
sympathy with the democratic spirit of the early
days of the French Revolution, which caused
him to be suspected by the authorities, the hope-
lessness of bettering his condition in the old
world, and the alluring prospect of political and
pecuniary independence held out by tire new.
After living for four months at the rate of a shil-
ling a week, he saved money enough to pay for
his passage, walked to Port Patrick, sailed to
Belfast, and thence embarked as a deck passen-
ger for America.

He landed at Newcastle, Delaware, July 14,
1794, and proceeded forthwith to Philadelphia,
distant thirty-three miles, on foot, shooting on the
way a bird of the red-headed woodpecker species,
the commencement of his ornithological pursuits.
On his arrival at the city, he worked for a time
at copperplate printing with one of his country-
men, and afterwards tried his old avocations of
weaving and peddling. These were abandoned
in 1794 for school-keeping. He commenoed this
portion of his career near Frankford, which he
soon abandoned for a better position at Miles-
town, Pa., where he remained until the com-
mencement of the next century, diligently em-
ployed in repairing the deficiencies of his own
education,. as well as laying the foundations of
that of the children in his charge. He also
indoctrinated himself in American politics, deli-
vered an oration On the Power and Value of
National Liberty, and wrote the song, Jefferson
and Liberty, about this period.

* A few years before his death Wilson sent for his brother
David to join him in America. David brought with him
copies of these satires, which he had collected with some
trouble, and presented them to his brother. The author, how-
ever, at once threw them in the fire, saying: "These were the
follies of youth; and had I taken my srood old: father's advioe,
tbey never would have seen the light?'

546

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

In 1802 he took charge of a seminary near
Gray's Ferry, on the Schuylkill, four miles from
Philadelphia. This brought him into communi-
cation with two valuable friends, 'William Bar-
tram the naturalist, and Lawson the eno-raver.
His leisure hours were now devoted to the pur-
suit to which he was becoming more and more
attached — that of Ornithology.

I sometimes smile (he writes to Bartram) to think,
that while others are immersed in deep schemes of
speculation and aggrandizement, in building towns
and purchasing plantations, I am entranced in con-
templation over the plumage of a lark, or gazing
like a despairing lover on the lineaments of an owl.
While others are hoarding up their bags of money,
without the power of enjoying it, I am collecting,
without injuring my conscience, or wounding my
peace of mind, those beautiful specimens of Nature's
works that are for ever pleasing. I have had live
crows, hawks, n,nd owls ; opossums, squirrels, snakes,
lizards, <fcc, so that my room has sometimes re-
minded me of Noah's ark ; but Xoah had a wife in
one corner of it, and, in this particular, our parallel
does not altogether tally.

I receive every subject of natural history that is
brought to me ; and, though they do not march into
my ark from all quarters, as they did into that of
our great ancestor, yet I find means, by the distri-
bution of a few fivepenny bits, to make them find
the way fast enough. A boy, not long ago, brought
me a large basketful of crows. I expect his next
load will be bull frogs, if I don't soon issue orders
to the contrary. One of my boys caught a mouse in
school, a few days ago, and directly marched up to
me with his prisoner. 1 set about" drawing it that
same evening ; and all the while the pantings of its
little heart shewed it to be in the most extreme
agonies of fear. I had intended to kill it, in order
to fix it in the claws of a stuffed owl ; but, happen-
ing to spill a few drops of water near where it was
tied, it lapped it up with such eagerness, and looked
in my face with such an eye of supplicating terror, as
perfectly overcame me. I immediat ely untied it, and
restored it to life and liberty. The agonies of a
prisoner at the stake, while the fire and instruments

of torment are preparing, could not be more severe
than the sufferings of that poor mouse ; and, insigni-
ficant as the object was, I felt at that moment the
sweet sensations that mercy leaves on the mind when
she triumphs over cruelty.

A letter written a little after, in June, 1803,
shows that the amateur amusement was about
becoming the engrossing occupation of his life.
Addressing a friend at Paisley, he says : " Close
application to the duties of my profession, which
I have followed since November, 1795, has deeply
injured my constitution ; the more so, that my
rambling disposition was the worse calculated of
any one's in the world for the austere regularity
of a teacher's life. I have had many pursuits
since I left Scotland — mathematics, the German
language, rniMC, drawing, &e., and I am now
about to make a collection of all our finest birds."
The labors to which he refers had been undergone
to supply, not only his own simple wants, but
also those of a nephew, who with his family had
settled on a farm, of which Wilson and the
nephew wore joint owners, in the state of New
York. One of his various occupations had been
to contribute a number of poems, among others
his Solitary Tutor, to Charles Brockden Brown's
Literary Magazine.

Iu October, 1S04, Wilson, with two friends,
made a pedestrian tour to the Falls of Niagara.
Winter overtook them on their return, in Novem-
ber, near Cayuga Lake. One of his companions
tarried with his relatives until the spring, and the
other availed himself of a less fatiguing mode of
transportation than that afforded by his legs ; but
Wilson trudged on with his gun through the
snow " mid-leg deep," and arrived home in the
beginning of December, after a journey of 1257
miles, and an absence of 59 days. One result of
the trip was his poem of The Foresters, pub-
lished in the Port Folio; another to confirm him
in the resolution he had taken. He says, in a
letter to Bartram : —

So far am I from being satisfied with what I have
seen, or discouraged by the fatigues which every
traveller must submit to, that I feel more eager than
ever to commence some more extensive expedition,
where scenes and subjects, entirely new and gene-
rally unknown, might reward my curiosity ; and
where, perhaps, my humble acquisitions might add
something to the stores of knowledge. For all the
hazards and privations incident to such an undertak-
ing, I feel confident in my own spirit and resolution.
With no family to enchain my affections; no ties
but those of friendship ; with the most ardent love
to my adopted country ; with a constitution which
hardens amidst fatigues ; and with a disposition
sociable and open, which can find itself at home by
an Indian fire in the depth of the woods, as well as
in the best apartment of the civilized ; for these,
and some other reasons that invite me away, I am
determined to become a traveller.

Wrilson now employed his leisure hours in per-
fecting himself in drawing and coloring. He
also practised the art of etching, and endeavored
to engage his friend Lawson* in his projected

* Alexander Law=on was born at Lanark, Scotland, in 1773.
At the age of sixteen he removed to Manchester. He early
developed a taste for his futnre pursuit, commencing, after fill-
ing bis copy-books with sketches, by engraving on smooth
pennies with the point of a knife. He next employed a black-

ALEXANDER WILSON.

547

publication on American Ornithology, but with-
out success. Obstacles did not, however, change
his purpose.- He declared his intention to go on,
though the effort cost him his life. 'k If so," he
said, " I shall at least leave a small beacon to
point out where I perished." He wrote to Jef-
ferson in 1806, requesting employment in the ex-
peditions fitting out for the survey of the western
territory. No reply was received to the applica-
tion ;* but private enterprise was now about to
furnish the means for the execution of his long
cherished project. William Bradford, the pub-
lisher, of Philadelphia, engaged Wilson to super-
intend a new edition of Reel's Cyclopaedia, which
he was desirous of issuing. The liberal salary
which he paid enabled his editor to abandon the
drudgery of school-keeping, and devote himself
to this work, which progressed so well in his
hands that the publisher agreed to undertake the
Ornithology. He worked so unremittingly in
preparing for the press that his health began to
fail. As a relaxation, he undertook a pedestrian
excursion through Pennsylvania in August, 1807,
from which he returned with new vigor to the
desk.

The first of the nine volumes contemplated was
published in September, 1808, the edition consist-
ing of only two hundred copies. The plates
were engraved by Lawson. In the same month,
the author set out for the eastward to procure
subscribers. His letters record the various modes
of reception he encountered.

I have (he writes) purposely avoided saying
any tiling, either good or bad, on the encourage-
ment I have met with. I shall only say, that among
the many thousands that have examined my book —
and among these were men of the first character for
taste and literature — I have heard nothing but ex-
pressions of the highest admiration and esteem. If
1 have been mistaken in publishing a work too good
for the country, it. is a fault not likely to be soon
repcate 1, and will pretty severely correct itself.
But, whatever may be tiie result of these matters, I
shall not sit down with folded hands, whilst any
thing can be done to carry my point, since God helps
them who help themselves. I am fixing corres-
pondents in every corner of these northern regions,
like so many pickets and out-posts ; so that scarcely
a wen or lit shall be able to pass along from York
to Canada but I shall gut intelligence of it.

*********
T spent nearly the whole of Saturday in New-
ark, where my bonk attracted as many starers as a
bear or a mammoth would have done ; and I arrived

smith to imkc him a graver from his description of the tool,
and amused himself as lie drank his ale of an evening, io orna-
menting the pewter tankard. Thirty-six years after his re-
moval to the United States, he heard a traveller speak of hav-
ing been shown this tankard by the innkeeper of the house he
then frequented. At the aire of twenty he emigrated to Ame-
rica, and established himself in Philadelphia. His plates for
Wilson form his chief work.

* '■ How often," says Audubon, speaking of his own recep-
tion at Washington, " did I think of the error committed by
Wilson, when, instead of going to Washington and presenting
himself to President Jefferson, he forwarded his application
through an uncertain medium. He, like myself, would doubt-
less have been received with favor, and obtained his desire.
How often have 1 thought of the impression his piercing eye
■would have made on the discriminating and learned President,
to whom, in half the time necessary for reading a letter, he
might have said six times as much as it contained. But, alas 1
"Wilson, instead of presenting himself, sent a substitute, which
it seems was not received by the President, and which, there-
fore, could not have answered the intended end.""

in New York the same evening. The next day, I
wrote a number of letters, enclosing copies of the
prospectus to different gentlemen in town. In the
afternoon of Tuesday, I took my book, and waited
on each of those gentlemen to whom I had written
the preceding day. Among these I found some
friends, but more admirers. The professors of Co-
lumbia College expressed much esteem for my per-
formance. The professor of languages, being a
Scotchman, and also a Wilson, seemed to feel all the
pride of national partiality so common to his country-
men; and would have done me any favour in his
power. I spent the whole of this week traversing
the streets, from one particular house to another,
till, I believe, I became almost as well known as the
public crier, or the clerk of the market, for I could
frequently perceive gentlemen point me out to
others, as I passed with my book under my arm.

On reaching' Hartford, I waited on Mr. G. a
member of Congress, who recommended me to seve-
ral others, particularly Mr. W., a gentleman of taste
and fortune, who was extremely obliging. The pub-
lisher of a newspaper here expressed the highest
admiration of the work, and has since paid many
handsome compliments to it in his publication, as
three other editors did in New York. This is a species
of currency that will neither purchase plates, nor
pay the printer ; but, nevertheless, it is gratifying
to the vanity of an author, — when nothing better
can be got.

I travelled on through New Hampshire, stopping
at every place where I was likely to do any busi-
ness ; and went as far east as Portland, in Maine,
where I staid three days; and, the supreme court
being then sitting, I had an opportunity of seeing
and conversing with people from the remotest boun-
daries of the United States in this quarter, and re-
ceived much interesting information from them with
regard to the birds that frequent these northern
regions. From Portland, I directed my course
across the country, among dreary, savage glens, and
mountains covered with pines and hemlocks, amid
whose black and half burnt trunks, the everlasting
rocks and stones, that cover this country, "grinned
horribly." One hundred and fifty-seven miles
brought me to Dartmouth College, New Hampshire,
on the Vermont line. Here I paid my addresses to
the reverend fathers of literature, and met with a
kind and obliging reception. Dr. Wheelock, the
President, made me eat at his table, and the profes-
sors vied with each other to oblige me.

I expect to be in Albany in five days; and, if
the legislature be sitting, I shall be detained perhaps
three days there. In eight days more, I hope to be
in Philadelphia. I have laboured with the zeal of
a knight-errant, in exhibiting this book of mine,
wherever I went, travelling with it, like a beggar
with his bantling, from town to town, and from one
country to another. I have been loaded with
praises, with compliments, and kindnesses, — shaken
almost to pieces in stage coaches ; I have wandered
among strangers, hearing the same O's and Ah's, and
telling the same story, a thousand times over: and
for what ? Ay, that's it! You are very anxious to
know, and you shall know the whole when I reach
Philadelphia.

During the winter he continued his tour south-
ward.

In Annapolis I passed my book through both
houses of the legislature ; the wise men of Maryland
stared and gaped, from bench to bench ; but, having
never heard of such a thing as one hundred and
twenty dollars for a book, the ai/cs for subscribing
were none ; and so it was unanimously determined

548

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

in the negative. Nowise discouraged by this sage
decision, I pursued my route through the' tobacco
fields, sloughs, and swamps of this illiterate comer
of the State to "Washington, distant thirty-eight
miles ; and in my way opened fifty-live gates. I
was forewarned that I should meet with many of
these embarrassments, and I opened twenty-two of
them with all the patience and philosophy I could
muster ; but when 1 still found them coining thicker
and faster, my patience and philosophy both aban-
doned me, and I saluted every new gate (which
obliged me to plunge into the mud to open it) with
perhaps less Christian resignation than I ought to
have done. The negroes there are very numerous,
and must wretchedly clad : their whole covering, in
many instances, assumes the appearance of neither
coat" waistcoat, nor breeches, but a motley mass of
coarse, dirty woollen rags, of various colours,
gathered up about them. When I stopped at some
of the negro huts to inquire the road, both men and
women huddled up their filthy bundles of rags
around them, with both arms, in order to cover their
nakedness, and came out, very civilly, to shew me
the way.

I mentioned to you in my last, that the streets
of Norfolk were in a most disgraceful state ; but I
was informed, that, some time before, they had been
much worse ; that at one time, the news-carrier de-
livered his papers from a boat, which he poled along
through the mire ; and that a party of sailors, hav-
ing nothing better to do, actually launched a ship's
long boat, into the streets, rowing along with four
oars through the mud, while one stood at the bow,
heaving the lead, and singing out the depth.

The general features of North Carolina, where I
crossed it, are immense, solitary pine savannas,
through which the road winds among stagnant
ponds, swarming with alligators, dark, sluggish i
creeks, of the colour of brandy, over which are
thrown high wooden bridges, without railings, and (
so crazy and rotten, as not only to alarm one's horse, I
but also the rider, and to make it a matter of thanks-
giving with both, when they get fairly over, without
going through ; enormous cypress swamps, which,
to a stranger, have a striking, desolate, and ruinous
appearance. Picture to yourself a forest of pro-
digious trees, rising, as thick as they can grow, from
a vast, fiat, and impenetrable morass, covered for ten j
feet from the ground with reeds. The leafless limbs j
of the cypresses are clothed with an extraordinary !
kind of moss, (Tillandsia Uhneoides,) from two to ten
feet long, in such quantities that fifty men might
conceal themselves in one tree. Nothing in this
country struck me with such surprise as the prospect
of several thousand acres of such timber, loaded, as
it were, with many million tons of tow, waving in
the wind. I attempted to penetrate several of these
6wamps with my gun, in search of something new ;
but, except in some chance places, I found it al-
together impracticable. 1 coasted along their bor-
ders, how ever, in many places, and was surprised at
the great profusion of evergreens, of numberless
sorts, and a variety of berries that I knew nothing
of. Here I found multitudes of birds, that never
wintered with us in Pennsylvania, living in abun-
dance.

From Wilmington I rode through solitary pine
savannas and cypress swamps as before, sometimes
thirty miles without seeing a hut or human being.
On arriving at the "Waekamaw, Pedee, and Black
River, I made long zigzags among the rich nabobs,
who live on their rice plantations, amidst large vil-
lages of negro huts. One of these gentlemen told
me that he had " something better than six hundred
head of blacks !"

Returning with a few subscribers, three hundred
additional copies were struck off. Volume II.
appeared in January, 1810, and the author, having
seen it through the press, set out on a tour down
the Ohio and Mississippi in quest of new mate-
rials and new subscribers. After consultation at
Pittsburgh, he decided to make the descent of the
river in a small open skiff, a mode which, though
perilous, recommended itself on the score of eco-
nomy and freedom of action. He embarked alone
on the 24th of February, and writes to his friend,
Lawson —

My stock of provisions consisted of some biscuit
and cheese, and a bottle of cordial, presented me by
a gentleman of Pittsburg ; my gun, trunk, and great
coat occupied one end of the boat ; I had a small tin,
occasionally to bale her, and to take my beverage
from the Ohio with ; and, bidding adieu to the
smoky confines of Pitt, I launched into the stream,
and soon winded away among the hills that every
where enclose this noble river. The weather was
warm and serene, and the river, like a mirror, except
where floating masses of ice spotted its surface, and
which required some care to steer clear of; hut
these, to my surprise, in less than a day's sailing,
totally disappeared. Far from being concerned at
my new situation, I felt my heart expand with joy
at the novelties which surrounded me ; I listened
with pleasure to the whistling of the red bird on the
banks as I passed, and contemplated the forest
scenery, as it receded, with increasing delight. The
smoke of the numerous sugar camps, rising lazily
among the mountains, gave great effect to the vary-
ing landscape ; and the grotesque log cabins, that
here and there opened from the woods, were
diminished into mere dog-houses by the sublimity
of the impending mountains. If you suppose to
yourself two parallel ranges of forest-covered hills,
whose irregular summits are seldom more than three
or four miles apart, winding through an immense
extent of country, and enclosing a river half a mile
wide, which alternately washes the steep declivity
on one side, and leaves a rich, forest-clad bottom on
the other, of a mile or so in breadth, you will have
a pretty correct idea of the appearance of the Ohio.
The banks of these rich flats are from twenty to
sixty and eighty feet high ; and even these last were
within a few feet of being overflowed in December,
1808.

I' now stripped with alacrity to my new avoca-
tion. The current went about two and a half miles
an hour, and I added about three and a half miles
more to the boat's way with my oars.

I rowed twenty odd miles the first spell, and
found I should be able to stand it perfectly well.
About an hour after night, I put up at a miserable
cabin, fifty-two miles from Pittsburg, where I slept
on what I supposed to be corn stalks, or something
worse ; so, preferring the smooth bosom of the Ohio
to this brush heap, I got up long before day, and.
being under no apprehension of losing my way, I
again pushed out into the stream. The landscape
on each side lay in one mass of shade ; but the gran-
deur of the projecting headlands and vanishing
points, or lines, was charmingly reflected in the
smooth glassy surface below. I could only discover
when I was passing a clearing by the crowing of
cocks, and now and then, in more solitary places,
the big-horned owl made a most hideous hollowing,
that echoed among the mountains. In this lonesome
manner, with full leisure for observation and reflec-
tion, exposed to hardships all day, and hard berths
all night, to storms of rain, hail, and snow, — for it
froze severely almost every night, — I persevered,

ALEXANDER WILSON.

549

from the 21th of February to Sunday evening,
March 17, when I moored my skiff safely in Bear
Grass Creek, at therapids of the Ohio, after a voy-
age of seven hundred and twenty miles.

It was during: this descent of the Ohio that he
wrote the poem of the Pilgrim. From Louisville
he made his way to Nashville, and thence through
the Indian country to Natchez.

A pleasant incident of his journey was his
treatment by" a planter named Dunbar, residing
near Nashville, who, hearing that he was in the
vicinity, addressed him the following letter : —

Sir, — It is very unfortunate that I should be so
much indisposed as to be confined to my bed-room ;
nevertheless, I cannot give up the idea of having
the pleasure of seeing you, as soon as you find it
convenient. The perusal of your first volume of
Ornithology, lent me by General Wilkinson, lias pro-
duced in me a very great desire of making your
acquaintance.

1 understand from my boy, that you propose
going, in a few days, to New Orleans, where you
will see some small cabinets of natural history that
may interest you. But, as I presume it is your in-
tention to prosecute your inquiries into the interior
of our country, this cannot be done better than from
my house as your head-quarters, where every thing
wdl be made convenient to your wishes. My house
stands literally in the forest, and your beautiful
orioles, with other elegant birds, are our court-yard
companions.

The bearer attends you with a couple of horses,
on the supposition that it may be convenient for
you to visit us to-day ; otherwise, he shall wait on
you any other day that you shall appoint.
I am respectfully, die.

William Dunbar.

Forest, 26th Hay, 1S10.

Wilson accepted the invitation, and found the
reality fully equal to the promise. He returned
to Philadelphia on the second of August, after a
seven mouths' tour, during which he had ex-
pended only four hundred and fifty dollars.

Several amusing incidents, as might naturally
be expected, occurred during these and several
other canvassing tours at a later period, for sub-
scriptions of $120 each. Not only were private
collectors rare in those days, but public libraries
were few and generally poor. At Haverhill, NIL,
he was arrested in 1812 as a spy from Canada,
taking sketches for the use of an anticipated
British invasion, and brought before a magistrate,
by whom he was promptly released. In 1812,
lie was made a member of the American Philo-
sophical Society. He resided for a great portion
of this and the previous year with his friend, Mr.
Bartram, at the Botanic Garden, and at this con-
genial and delightful residence made rapid pro-
gress in his work. The seventh volume was
published in the early part of 1813. The author's
anxiety to complete his work induced him, in
consequence of the difficulty of finding competent
artists lo color his plates, to undertake the work
himself, in addition to his usual severe literary
labors, which were crowded so far into the
night as to deprive him of his necessary rest.
The unavoidable result was impaired health. His
friends remonstrated, but his reply, was, " Life is
short, and without exertion nothing can be per-
formed." In his last letter, written about this |

time, to Paisley, he says, " T am, myself, far from
being in good health. Intense application to
study has hurt me much. My eighth volume is
now in the press, and will be published in No-
vember. One volume more will complete the
whole." The last sentence shows the object on
which his heart was fixed. Until that " :>no
volume" was out of the printer's hands, there
was no hope of any relaxation of his labor.
While his health was thus impaired by sedentary
toil, it is said that he chanced one day to notice
a bird of some rare species, of winch he had long
"been in search. He snatched his gun, ran out,
and swam a river in pursuit of his prey, which
he secured, but caught a cold which led to a dy-
sentery. Whether this incident, which is related
on the authority of " one of Wilson's American
friends, who visited Scotland some years ago," in
the life prefixed to the reprint of the Ornithology
in Constable's Miscellany, is. authentic or not, it is
certain that Wilson was attacked by dysentery,
which, notwithstanding the efforts. of the best
physicians of the country, caused his death on
the 23d of August, 1813. His remains were in-
terred, with great respect, in the Swedish burial-
ground, Southwark. During his health he had
expressed a wish that he might be buried " where
the birds might sing over his grave." Had this
wish been known to the friends who superin-
tended his funeral it would have been more fully
complied with, than by a grave within city
limits.

The eighth volume was nearly through the
press when the author's death occurred. The
remaining portion was edited by his friend,
George Ord, who wrote the letter-press of the
ninth and last volume. Both appeared in 1814,
with the illustrations, which had all been prepared
under Wilson's supervision, prior to his death.
Mr. Ord had been Wilson's 'assistant in several
of his rambles, anil was well qualified to complete
his work. He accompanied the volume with a
life of its author.

In 1825, Mr. Ord prepared a new edilion of the
last three volumes of the Ornithology, and, in
1828, four supplementary volumes by Charles
Lucieu Bonaparte, Prince of Canino, were pub-
lished, the first of which was prepared for the
press by John D. Godman, and the three last by
William Cooper. The entire work was reprinted
in 1831, in four volumes of Constable's Miscel-
lany, with a life of the author by W. M. Ilethe-
riugton.

The poems of Wilson reflect his sympathies,
his sensibilities, his love of humorous observation
among men ; as his prose, with its quick lively
step and minute discrimination, so freshly pictures
the animal world. In his humor and feeling
Wilson, as a poet, belongs to the family of Burns.
He addresses his friends in verse with the old
loving feeling of Scottish brotherhood, has his
song for love and beauty, and his similar choice
of subject in ludicrous tale or ballad, with a
smarting sense of wrong and poverty; while an
early observation, in natural history, and his pur-
suit of descriptive poetry, belong .especially to
Wilson the naturalist. In Scotland he- described
the Disconsolate Wren, the beauties of Lochwin-
nock, and the wonderful young scholar Ringan ;
as, in America, he afterwards wrote his verses on

550

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

the Blue Bird, sketched the Pennsylvania!! scenery
of the Foresters, and celebrated the Solitary
Tutor on the Schuylkill.

In that fine descriptive poem of the Foresters,
in which he describes an October journey through
Pennsylvania, and across the Alleghanies from
Philadelphia to Niagara, the reader may have a
true enjoyment of his poetic tastes and of his
ardent love of nature and adventure. The three
travellers, Wilson, his friend, and nephew, set
forth on foot, well provided with knapsack and
fowling-piece, and with a stock of youth and good
humor, to overcome the difficulties of the way.
The poet, who became thoroughly endenizened in
America, has this opening appeal for the themes
of American song, with a generously overdone
compliment to Humphreys.

To Europe's shores renowned in deathless song,
Must all the honours of the bard belong ?
And rural Poetry's enchanting strain
Be only heard beyond the Atlantic main ?
What though profuse in many a patriot's praise,
We boast a Barlow's soul-exalting lays ;
An Humphreys, blessed with Homer's nervous glow ;
And freedom's friend and champion in Freneau ;
Yet Nature's charms that bloom so lovely here,
Unbailed arrive, unheeded disappear ;
While bare bleak heaths, and brooks"of half a mile
Can rouse the thousand bards of Britain's isle.
There scarce a stream creeps down its narrow bed,
There scarce a hillock lifts its little head,
Or humble hamlet peeps their glades among
But lives and murmurs in immortal song;
Our western world, with all its matchless floods,
Our vast transparent lakes and boundless woods,
Stamped with the traits of majesty sublime,
Unhonoured weep the silent lapse of time,
Spread their wild grandeur to the unconscious skv,
In sweetest seasons pass unheeded by;
While scaree one Muse returns the songs the}' gave,
Or seeks to 6natch their glories from the grave.

The rural descriptions are highly felicitous, as
in this sketch of the farm scenery of Bucks and
the boor of Northampton.

Thus half the day
O'er hill and dale our stretching journey lay,
Through fertile Bucks,* where lofty barns abound,
For wheat, fair Quakers, eggs, and fruit renowned ;
Full fields, snug tenements, and fences neat,
Wide spreading walnuts drooping o'er each gate ;
The spring-house peeping from enclustering trees,
Gay gardens filled with herbs, and roots and bees,
Where quinces, pears, and clustering grapes were

seen,
With ponderous calabashes bung between ;
While orchards, loaded, bending o'er the grass,
Invite to taste and cheer us as we pass.
But these too soon give place to prospects drear,
As o'er Northampton's! barren heights we steer;
Bleak bind of stones, deep swamps, and pigmy

woods,
Where the poor Swabian o'er his drudgerv broods ;
Toils hard ; and when the heats of harvest burn,

* The County of Bucks, in Pennsylvania, is a rich, well-cul-
tivated tract of country, containing nearly half a million of
acres, and upwards of 8u,()00 inhabitants.

t Northampton is an oblong hilly county, adjoining that of
Bucks. It is crossed nearly at right angles by that remarkable
range of the Allegany known by the name of the Blue Eidge
or Blue Mountain, which presents the appearance of an im-
mense rampart, extending farther than the eye can reach, with
an almost uniform height of summit.

Gleans from the rocks his pittance in return.

Yet though so cursed his soil, his sheaves so few,

All-conquering Industry still bears him through;

Averse to change, pleased patiently to plod

The same dull round his honest father trod.

Behold his low roofed hut tin yonder green,

There no gay front or proud piazza's seen ;

Let wealthy fools their precious hoards disburse,

No whim can tempt him to untie his purse.

A moss-grown penthouse shades his narrow door,

One window joins with patches covered o'er;

Around the garden numerous hives are ranged,

And pendant gourds to fading yellow changed.

Sheds, smoke-bouse, hog pens, crowd the miry yard.

Where endless yells from growling pigs are heard.

Approach this humble hut; look in, nor fear;

Say, could Ambition find one comfort here?

Yet sweet Content e'en here is sometimes found,

Turning the wheel, or slumbering by its sound.

No mirrors dazzle, no rich beds appear,

Wide wasting Fashion never entered here.

Those plates of pewter, ranged along the frame,

In ancient days from distant Teuchlaud came.

That oaken table, so uncouth and low,

Stood where it stands some sixty years ago.

In this arm chair where Hans delights to snore,

His great-grandfather nodded long before.

Thus glows his greasy stove throughout the year,

The torrid zone for. ever rages here.

Here, when the shades of weary evening fall,

Sits Hans, the lord and sovereign of all ;

Das Neue Callender* from the nail unhooks,

His dark brows solemn and morose his looks ;

Beside his lamp, with spectacles on nose,

To-morrow's weather seeks, its rains or snows,

The moon's eventful signs, th' auspicious hour

To plant the downward root or rising flower;

Of witch-confounding doctors tells the tale,

Sips his metheglin, or his cider stale.

All other joys for which he ever sighs

His dear loved saur-eraut or his pipe supplies.

With the schoolmaster, the honor of his pur-
suits and his inglorious trials, Wilson always had
a keen sympathy. He has introduced in this
poem an appeal which deserves to be printed for
gratuitous circulation in every village or school
district in the country.

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

Of all professions that this world has known,
From clowns and cobblers upwards to the throne;
From the grave architect of Greece and Rome,
Down to the framer of a farthing broom,
The worst for care and undeserved abuse,
The first in real dignity and use,
(If skilled to teach, and diligent to rule)
Is the learned master of a little school,
Not he who guides the legs, or skills the clown
To square his fist, and knock his fellow down ;
Not he who shows the still more barbarous art
To parry thrusts, and pierce the unguarded heart ;
But that good man, who, faithful to his charge,
Still toils the opening reason to enlarge ;
And leads the growing mind, through every stage,
From humble A, B, C, to God's own page ;
From black, rough pothooks, horrid to tile sight,
To fairest lines that float o'er purest wddte ;
From Numeration, through an opening way,
Till dark Annuities seem clear as dav ;
Pours o'er the mind a flood of mental light,
Expands its wings, and gives it powers for flight,

* The New Almanac.

ALEXANDER WILSON.

551

Till earth's remotest bound, and heaven's bright train
He trace, weigh, measure, picture, and explain.

If such his toils, sure honour and regard.
And wealth and fame shall be his dear reward;
Sure every tongue will utter forth his praise,
And blessings gild the evening of his days!
Yes — blest indeed, by cold ungrateful scorn,
With study pale, by daily crosses worn,
Despised by those who to his labour owe
All that they read, and almost all they know.
Condemned, each tedious day, such cares to bear
As well might drive e'en Patience to despair ;
The partial parent's taunt — the idler dull —
Tile blockhead's dark impenetrable scull —
The endless round of A, B, C's whole train,
Repeated o'er ten thousand times in vain,
Placed on a point, the object of each sneer,
His faults enlarge, his merits disappear ;
If mild — " Our lazy master loves his ease,
The boys at school do anything they please."
If rigid — " He's a cross hard-hearted wretch,
He drives the children stupid with his birch.
My child, with gentle means, will mind a breath ;
But frowns and flogging frighten him to death."
Do as lie will his conduct is arraigned,.
And dear the little that he gets is gained;
E'en that is given him, on the quarter day,
With looks that call it — money thrown away.
Just Heaven ! who knows the unremitting care
And deep solicitude that teachers share,
If such their fate, by thy divine control,
0 give them health and fortitude of soul!
Souls that disdain the murderous tongue of Fame,
And strength to make the sturdiest of them tame;
Grant this, ye powers! to dominies distrest,
Their sharp-tailed hickories will do the rest.

In contrast with the Dutch boor of Northamp-
ton we may present the pleasing sketch of hospi-
tality on. the Susquehanna, with its eloquent tri-
bute to the genius of the scene.

AT nOME ON THE SUSQUEnANNA.

Now up green banks, through level fields of grass,
With heavy hearts the fatal spot we pass
Where Indian rage prevailed, by murder fired,
And warriors brave by savage hands expired;
Where bloody Butler's iron-hearted crew,
Doomed to the flames the weak submitting few;
While screams of horror pierced the midnight wood,*
And the dire axe drank deep of human blood,
Obscured with mud, and drenched with soaking rain,
Through pools of splashing mire we drove amain ;
Night darke dug round us; when in luckj' hour.
Led by its light we readied a cottage door.
There welcomed in we blest our happy lot,
And all the drudgery of the day forgot.
A noble fire its blazing front displa3Ted,
Clean shelves of pewter dazzling round arrayed,
Where rows of ruddy apples, ranged with care,
With grateful fragrance filled the balmy air;
Our bard (chief orator in times like these,)
Though frank, yet diffident, and fond to please,
In broken German joked with all around,
Told who we were, from whence and whither bound;

* The massacre here alluded to took place after the battle of
3d July, 1778. which was fought near this spot. The small
body of American troops were commanded by that brave, hu-
mane, and intelligent officer, Colonel Butler; the tories and
savages were headed by another Colonel Butler, of a very dif-
ferent description. Were I disposed to harrow up the feelings
of the reader, I might here enlarge on the particulars of this
horrible affair ; but I choose to decline it. Those who wish to
see a detail of the whole are referred to the Philadelphia Uni-
versal Magazine for March 20, 1707, p. 391).

The cottage group a ready opening made,
And " welcome friends," the little Dutchman said.
Well pleased our guns and knapsacks we resigned,
The adjoining pump, or running stream to find;
There washed our boots, and entering, took our seat,
Stript to the trowsers in the glowing heat.
The mindful matron spread her table near.
Smoking with meat, and tilled with plenteous cheer ;
And supper o'er, brought forth and handed round
A massy .bowl with mellow apples crowned;
For all our wants a mother's care exprest,
And pressed us oft, and picked us out the best ;
But Duncan smiled, and slyly seemed to seek
More tempting fruit in Susan's glowing cheek,
Where such sweet innocence and meekness lay
As fairly stole our pilot's heart away.
He tried each art the evening to prolong.
And cheered the passing moments with a song,
So sadly tender, with such feeling raised,
That all but Susan with profusion praised ;
She from his glance oft turned her glistening eye.
And paid in tears and many a stifled sigh.

Thus passed the evening charmingly away,
Each pleased and pleasing, innocent and gay,
Till early bed-time summoned us to part,
And Susan's glances spoke her captive heart.

Swift flew the night, in soundest sleep enjoyed,
By dawn we start and find all hands employed;
The wheel, the cards, by fire-light buzzing go;
The careful Inother kneads her massy dough;
Even little Mary at her needle sits,
And while she nurses pussy, nicely knits.
Our generous friends their courtesy bestowed,
Refused all price, and pointed out the road ;
With kindest wishes bade us all farewell ;
What Susau felt, the rising tear could tell.

Blest Hospitality! the poor man's pride,
The stranger's guardian, comforter, and guide,
Whose cheering voice and sympathetic eye,
Even angels honour as they hover nigh ;
Confined (in mercy to our wandering race)
To no one country, people, age, or place;
But for the homeless and the exiled lives,
And smiles the sweeter still the more she gives.
O if on earth one spot I e'er can claim,
One humble dwelling, even without a name,
Do thou, blest spirit! be my partner there,
With sons of woe our little all to share ;
Beside our fire the pilgrim's looks to see,
That swim in moisture as he thinks on thee;
To hear his titles of wild woods wandering through ;
His ardent blessings as he bids adieu ;
Then let the selfish hug their gold divine !
Ten thousand dearer pleasures shall be mine.

The whole of this poem, with its humorous
contrasts of the privations and enjoyments of tho
travellers, and ifs truthful pictures of nature and
local scenery, is in a very happy vein. If the
poet's genius is incapable of adding new glories
to Niagara, at the close of the poem, it must pay
that act of submission in its inferiority to the
great sublime.

RAB AND KINGAN. — A TALE.

Pelivcrcd by the author in the Pantheon, Edinburgh, in a
debate on the question — "Whether is Diffidence, or tho Al-
lurements of Pleasure, the greatest bar to the Progress in
Knowledge ?"

introduction;
Hech ! but it's awfu' like to rise up here,
Where sic a sight o' learned folks' pows appear I
Sae mony piercing een a' fixed on ane,
Is maist enough to freeze me to a stane !

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CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

But it's a mercy — mony thanks to fate,
Pedlars are poor, but unco seldom blate.
(Speaking to the President.)

This question, sir, has been right well disputed,
And meikle weel-a-wat's been said about it:
Ciiiels, that precisely to the point can speak,
And gallop o'er lang blauds of kittle Greek,
Ha'e seut frae ilka side their sharp opinion,
And peeled it up as ane wad peel an ingon.*

I winna plague you lang wi' my poor spale,
But only crave your patience to a tale :
By which yell ken on whatna side I'm stannin'.
As I perceive your hindmost minute's rinuin'.

THE TALE.

There lived in Fife, an auld, stout, worldly chiel,
Wha's stomach kend nae fare but milk and meal ;
A wife he had, I think they ea'd her Bell,
And twa big sous, ainaist as heigh's himsel'.
Rab was a gleg, smart cock, with powdered pash ;
Ringan, a slow, feared, bashfu', simple hash.

Baith to the college gaed. At first spruce Rab,
At Greek and Latin, grew a very dab :
He beat a' roundabout him, fair and clean,
And ilk ane courted him to be their frien';
Frae house to house they harled him to dinner,
But cursed poor Ringau for a hum-drum sinner.

Rab talked now in sic a lofty strain,
As though braid Scotland had been a' his ain :
He ca'd the kirk the church, the yirth the globe,
And changed his name, forsooth, frae Rab to Bob.
Whare'er ye met him, flourishing his rung,
The haill discourse was murdered wi' his tongue.
On friends and faes wi' impudence he set,
And rammed his nose in everything he met.

The college now, to Rab, grew douf and dull,
He scorned wi' books to stupify his skull :
But whirled to plays and balls, and sic like places,
And roared awa' at fairs and kintra races:
bent hame for siller frae his mother Bell,
And eaft a horse, and rade a race himsel' ;
Drank night and day, and syne, when mortal fa',
Rowed on the floor, and snored like ony sow;
Lost a' his siller wi' some g;imbling sparks,
And pawed, for punch, his Bible and his sarks ;
'fill, driven at last to own he had eneugh,
Gaed hame a' rags to haud his father's plough.

Poor hum-drum Ringan played anither part,
For Ringan wanted neither wit nor art:
Of mony a far-aff place he kent the gate ;
Was deep, deep learned, but uneo, uneo blate.
He kend how mony mile 'twas to the moon,
How mony rake wad lave the ocean toom;
Where a' the swallows gaed in time of snaw ;
What gal's the thunders roar, and tempests blaw;
Where lumps o' siller grow aneath the gran',
How a' this yirth rows round about the sun;
In short, on books sae meikle time he spent,
Ye cou'dna speak o' aught, but Ringan kent.

Sae meikle learning wi' sae little pride,
Soon gained the love o' a' the kintra side;
And Death, at that time, happening to nip aff
The parish minister — a poor dull calf,
Ringan was sought — he cou'dna' say them nnv,
And there he's preaching at this very day.

MORAL,

Now, Mr. President, I think 'tis plain,
That youthfu' diffidence is certain gain.

* The question had been spoken upon both sides before this
tale was recited, which was the last opinion given on the de-
bate.

I Instead of blocking up the road to knowledge,
; It guides alike, in commerce or at college;
j Struggles the bursts of passion to controul,
Feeds all the finer feelings of the soul ;
Defies the deep laid stratagems of guile,
And gives even innocence a sweeter smile;
Ennobles all the little worth we have,
And shields our virtue even to the grave.

How vast the difTrenee, then, between the twain,
Since pleasure ever is pursued by pain.
Pleasure's a syren, with inviting arms,
Sweet is her voice and powerful are her charms ;
Lured by her call we tread her flowery ground,
I Joy wings our steps and music warbles round;
Lulled in her arms we lose the flying hours,
And lie embosomed 'midst her blooming bowers,
Till — armed with death, she watches our undoing,
Stabs while she sings, and triumphs in our ruin.

CONNEL AND FLORA. — A 80NG.

Dark lowers the night o'er the wide stormy maij,
Till mild rosy morning rise cheerful again ;
Alas ! morn returns to revisit our shore ;
But Connel returns to his Flora no more !

For see on yon mountain, the dark cloud of death,
O'er Connel's lone cottage, lies low on thelieath;
] While bloody and pale, on a far distant shore,
He lies to return to his Flora no more.

Ye light fleeting spirits that glide o'er yon steep,
O would ye but waft me across the wild deep;
j There fearless I'd mix in the battle's loud roar,
1 I'd die with my Connel, and leave him no more !

AUCHTEF.TOOL.

Tune — " One bottle 'more."
From the village of Lessly, with a head full of gle?,
And my pack on my shoulders, I rambled out free;
Resolved that same evening, as Luna was full,
To lodge ten miles distant, in old AuchtertooL

Through many a lone cottage and farm-house I

steered,
Took their money, and off with my budget I sheered ;
The road I explored out without form or rule,
Still asking the nearest to old AuchtertooL

A clown I accosted, inquiring the road,
He stared like an idiot, then roared out " Gude G-d,
Gin ye're gaun there for quarters ye're surely a fool.
For there's nought but starvation in old AuchtertooL"

Unminding his nonsense, my march I pursued,
Till I came to a hill top, where joyful I viewed,
Surrounded witli mountains, and many a white poci,
The small smoky village of old AuchtertooL

At length I arrived at the edge of the town,
As Phoebus behind a high mountain went down;
The clouds gathered dreary, and weather blew foul,
And I hugged myself safe now in old AuchtertooL

An inn I inquired out, a lodging desired.
But the landlady's pertness seemed instantly fired ;
For she saucy replied, as she sat carding wool,
" I ne'er keep sic lodgers in auld AuchtertooL"

With scorn I soon left her to live on her pride,
But asking, was told there was none else beside,
Except an old weaver who now kept a school,
And these were the whole that were in AuchtertooL

To his mnnsion I scampered, and rnpt at the door,
He op'd, but as soon as I dared to implore,
He shut it like thunder, and uttered a howl,
That rung through each corner of old AuchtertooL

Provoked now to fury, the dominie I curst.
And offered to cudgel the wretch, if he durst;

ALEXANDER WILSON.

553

But the door lie fast bolted, though Boreas blew cool,
And left me all friendless in old Auchtertool.

Deprived of all shelter, through darkness I trod,
Till I came to a ruined old house by the road ;
Here the night I will spend, and, inspired by the OW;,
I'll send up some prayers for old Auchtertool.

THE BLUE BIRD. — FBOM THE ORNITHOLOGY.

The pleasing manners, and sociable disposition of
this little bird, entitle him to particular notice. As
one of the first messengers of spring, bringing the
charming tidings to our very doors, he bears his own
recommendation always along with him, and meets
with a hearty welcome from every body.

Though generally accounted a bird of passage, yet,
eo early as the middle of February, if the weather be
open, he usually makes his appearance about his old
haunts, the barn, orchard, and fence posts. Storms
and deep snows sometimes succeeding, he disappears
for a time ; but about the middle of March is again
seen, accompanied by his mate, visiting the box in
the garden, or the hole in the old apple tree, the
cradle of some generations of his ancestors. " When
he first begins his amours," says a curious and cor-
rect observer, " it is pleasing to behold his courtship,
his solicitude to please and to secure the favour of
his beloved female. He uses the tenderest expres-
sipns, sits close by her, caresses and sings to her his
most endearing warblings. When seated together,
if he espies an insect delicious to her taste, he takes
it up, flies with it to her, spreads his wing over her,
and puts it in her month."* If a rival makes his
appearance, (for they are ardent in their loves,) he
quits her in a moment, attacks and pursues the in-
truder as he shifts from place to place, in tones that
bespeak the jealousy of his affection, conducts him,
with many reproofs, beyond the extremities of his ter-
ritory, and returns to warble out his transports of
triumph beside his beloved mate. The preliminaries
being thus settled, and the spot fixed on, they begin
to clean out the old nest, and the rubbish of the
former year, and to prepare for the reception of their
future offspring. Soon after this, another sociable
little pilgrim, (motad.lla domestica, house wren,) also
arrives from the south, and, finding such a snug berth
preoccupied, shows his spite, by watching a conve-
nient opportunity, and, in the absence of the owner,
popping in and pulling out sticks; but takes special
care to make oft* as fast as possible.

The female lays five, and sometimes six eggs, of a
pale blue colour; and raises two, and sometimes
three brood in a season ; the male taking the young-
est under his particular care while the female is
again sitting. Their principal food are insects, par-
ticularly large beetles, and other hard-shelled sorts,
that lurk among old, dead, and decaying trees.
Spiders are also a favourite repast with them. In
the fall, they occasionally regale themselves on the
berries of the sour gum ; and, as winter approaches,
on those of the red cedar, and on the fruit of a rough
hairy vine that runs up and cleaves fast to the
trunks of trees. Ripe persimmons is another of their
favourite dishes, and many other fruits and seeds
which I have found in their stomachs at that season,
which, being no botanist, I am unable to particu-
larize. They are frequently pestered with a species
of tape worm, some of which I have taken from their
intestines of an extraordinary size, and, in some eases,
in great numbers. Most other birds are also plagued
with these vermin, but the blue bird seems more
subject to them than any I know, except the wood-
cock. An account of the different species of vermin,

* Letter from Mr. William Bartram to the author.

many of which, I doubt not, are nondescripts, that
infest the plumage and intestines of our birds, would
of itself form an interesting publication ; but, as this
belongs more properly to the entomologist, I shall
only, in the course of this work, take notice of some
of the most remarkable.

The usual spring and summer song of the blue-bird
is a soft, agreeable, and oft-repeated warble, uttered
with open quivering wings, and is extremely pleas-
ing. In his motions and general character, he has
great resemblance to the robin redbreast of Britain ;
and, had he the brown olive of that bird, instead of.
his own blue, could scarcely be distinguished from
him. Like him, he is known to almost every child ;
and shows as much confidence in man by associating
with him in summer, as the other by. his familiarity
in winter. He is also of a mild and peaceful dispo-
sition, seldom fighting or quarrelling with other
birds. His society is courted by the inhabitants of
the country, and few farmers neglect to provide for
him, in some suitable place, a snug little summer-
house, ready fitted and re.it free. For this he more
than sufficiently repays them by the cheerfulness of
his song, and the multitude of injurious insects which
he daily destroys. Towards fall, that is in the
month of October, his song changes to a single plain-
tive note, as he passes over the yellow many-coloured
woods; and its melancholy air recalls to our minds
the approaching decay of the face of nature. Even
after the trees are stript of their leaves, he still lin-
gers over his native fields, as if loath to leave thein.
About the middle or end of November, few or none
of them are seen ; but, with every return of mild and
open weather, we hear his plaintive note amidst the
fields, or in the air, seeming to deplore the devasta-
tions of winter. Indeed, he appears scarcely ever
totally to forsake us; but to follow fair weather
through all its journeyings till the return of spring.

Such are the mild and pleasing manners of the
bluebird, and so universally is he esteemed, that I
have often regretted that no pastoral muse has yet
arisen in this western woody world, to do justice to
his name, and endear him to us still more by the
tenderness of verse, as has been done to his repre-
sentative in Britain, the robin redbreast. A small
acknowledgment of this kind I have to offer, which
the reader, I hope, will excuse as a tribute to rural
innocence.

When winters cold tempests and snows are no
more,
Green meadows and brown furrow'd fields re-ap-
pearing,
The fishermen hauling their shad to the shore,
And cloud-cleaving geese to the lakes are a-steering ;

When first the lone butterfly flits on the wing,
When red glow the maple?, so fresh and so pleasing,

0 then comes the bluebird, the herald of spring!
And hails with his warblings the charms of the
season.

Then loud piping frogs make the marshes to ring;
Then warm glows the sunshine, and fine is the wea-
ther ;

The blue woodland flowers just beginning to
spring,
And spieewood and sassafras budding together:

O then to your gardens ye housewives repair,
Your walks border up, sow and plant at your leisure ;

The bluebird will chant from his box such an air,
That all your hard toils will seem truly a pleasure!

He flits through the orchard, he visits each tree,
The red flowering peach, and the apple's sweet blos-
soms :

He snaps up destroyers wherever they be,
And seizes the caitiffs that lurk in their bosoms ;

554

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

He drags the Tile grub from the corn it devours,
The worms from the webs, where they riot and
welter ;

His song and his services freely are ours,
And all that he asks is — in summer a shelter.

The ploughman is pleased when he gleans in his
train,
Now searching the furrows — now mounting to cheer
him;

The gard'ner delights in his sweet, simple strain,
And leans on his spade to survey and to hear him ;

The slow ling'ring schoolboys forget they'll be chid,
"While gazing intent as he warbles before them

In mantle of sky-blue, and bosom so red,
That each little loiterer seems to adore him.

When all the gay scenes of the summer are o'er,
And autumn slow enters 60 silent and sallow,

And millions of warblers, that charm'd us before,
Have fled in the train of the sun-seekir.g swallow;

The bluebird, forsaken, yet true to his home,
Still lingers, and looks for a milder to-morrow,

Till forced by the horrors of winter to roam,
He sings his adieu in a lone note of sorrow.

"While spring's lovely season, serene, dewy, warm,
The green face of earth, and the pure blue of heaven,

Or love's native music have influence to charm,
Or sympathy's glow to our feelings are given,

Still dear to each bosom the bluebird shall be ;
His voice, like the thrillings of hope, is a treasure ,

For, through bleakest t forms, if a calm he but see,
He comes to remind us of sunshine and pleasure!

THE FISH-HAWK.

This formidable, vigorous-winged, and well known
bird, subsists altogether on the finny tribes that
swarm in our bays, creeks, and rivers ; procuring his
prey by his own active skill and industry; and
seeming no farther dependent on the land than as a
mere resting place, or, in the usual season, a spot of
deposit for his nest, eggs, and young.

The fish-hawk is migratory, arriving on the coasts
of New York and ISew Jersey about the 21st of
March, and retiring to the south about the twenty-
second of September. Heavy equinoctial storms may
vary these periods of arrival and departure a few
days; butloi g observation has ascertained, that they
are kept with remarkable regularity. On the arri-
val of these birds in the northern parts of the United
States, in March, they sometimes fi..d the bays and
ponds frozen, and experience a difficulty in procuring
fish for many days. Yet there is no instance on re-
cord of their attacking birds, or inferior land animals,
with intent to feed on them ; though their great
strength of flight, as well as of feet and claws, would
seem to render this no difficult matter. But they no
sooner arrive, than they wage war on the bald
eagles, as against a horde of robbers and banditti ;
sometimes succeeding, by force of numbers, and per-
severance, in driving them from their haunts, but
6eldom or never attacking them in single combat.

The first appearance of the fish-hawk in spring, is
welcomed by the fishermen, as the happy signal of
the approach of those vast shoals of herring, shad,
<fec, that regularly arrive on our coasts, and enter
our rivers ill such prodigious multitudes. Two of a
trade, it is said, seldom agree; the adage, however,
will not hold good in the present case, for such is
the respect paid the fish-hawk, not only by this class
of men, but, generally, by the whole neighbourhood
where it resides, that a person who should attempt
to shoot one of them, would stand a fair chance of
being insulted. This prepossession in favour of the
fish-hawk is honourable to their feelings. They

associate, with its first appearance, ideas of plenty,
and all the gaiety of business ; they see it active and
industrious like themselves ; inoffensive to the pro-
ductions of their farms; building with confidence,
and without the least disposition to concealment, in
the middle of their fields, and along their fences;
and returning, year after year, regularly to its for-
mer abode.
*******

The regular arrival of this noted bird at the vernal
equinox, when the busy season of fishing commences,
adds peculiar interest to its first appearance, and
procures it many a benediction from the fishermen.
With the following lines, illustrative of these cir-
cumstances, I shall conclude its history : — ■

Soon as the sun, great ruler of the year,
Bends to our northern climes his bright career,
And from the caves of ocean calls from sleep
The finny shoals and myriads of the deep;
When freezing tempests back to Greenland ride,
And day and night the equal hours divide;
True to the season, o'er our sea-beat shore,
The sailing osprey high is seen to soar,
With broad unmoviug wing; and, circling slow,
Marks each loose straggler in the deep below ;
Sweeps down like lightning! plunges with a roar I
And bears his struggling victim to the shore.

The long-housed fisherman beholds with joy,
The well known sigi.als of his rough employ;
And, as he bears his nets arid oars along,
Thus hails the welcome season with a song: —

THE FISHEEMAN'S HYMN.

The osprey sails above the sound,

The geese are gone, the gulls are flying;
The herring shoals swarm thick around,

The nets are launch'd, the boats are plying;
Yo ho, my hearts ! let's seek the deep,

Raise high the song, and cheerly wish her,
Still as the bending net we sweep,

" God bless the fish-hawk and the, fisher I"

She brings us fish — she brings us spring.

Good times, fair weather, warmth, and plenty,
Fine store of shad, trout, herring, ling,

Sheepshead and drum, and old-wives' dainty.
Yo ho, my hearts ! let's seek the deep,
Ply every oar, and cheerly wish her,
Still as the bending net we sweep,

" God bless the fish-hawk and the fisher 1"

She rears her young on yonder tree.

She leaves her faithful mate to mind 'em ;
Like us, for fish, she sails to sea,

And, plunging, shows us where to find 'em.
Yo ho, my hearts! let's seek the deep,
Ply every oar, and cheerly wish her,
While the slow bending net we sweep,
" God bless the fish-hawk and the fisher !"

JOHN EDMUND HAEWOOD.
Harwood, the actor, who came over to America
with Wignell's company to Philadelphia, in 1793,
was a writer of verses of ease and sweetness, a
collection of which he published in New York in
1809. Dunlnp, in his History of the American
Stage, has given some pleading reminiscences of
the man in his account of the opening of the New
York Theatre in 1803 : —

" John E. Harwood lias been mentioned in the
catalogue of the splendid company brought out
to this country in 1793 for Philadelphia. He
was a man endowed by nature witli brilliant ta-
lents, and had received in every respect the edu-

JOHN EDMUND HARWOOD.

555

cation of a gentleman. His Trapanti, Sir David
Dunder, Lenitive, Dennis Brulgraddery, Canton,
Gradus, Captain Ironsides, and a long list of cha-
racters, were superior to any man's, in our opi-
nion, yet seen in this country : he was more like
John Bannister than any other actor of the Eng-
lish stage. His Falstaff was the be-t in this
country until Cooke played it, except, — -and it is
a most formidable exception, — that it was not
sufficiently studied. In truth, self-indulgence was
the ruin of Harwood, as of thousands on and off
the stage. After his marriage, he had retired
from the stage, and kept a bookstore and circu-
lating library: this retirement from a profession
in which he was qualified to shine was probably
not his own choice. He read his books, and
neglected his business. Booksellers should never
read; if they do, they are lost. There are bril-
liant exceptions ; but then they wrote also : they
did not read merely fir the gratification of read-
ing, or to Mil time, but to gain knowledge, and
they exerted themselves to impart it. The vene-
rable Matthew Carey is an instance in point.
Harwood was a poet, and had in early life pub-
lished a volume of verses. He was a man of wit,
and the favorite of every company ; never obtru-
sive, and always willing to take a joke or to give
one. He was lazy, and became corpulent; the
first disqualified him for all business, and ren-
dered many of his new characters, after he re-
turned to the stage, less perfect than they would
have been; the second spoiled his appearance
and action for high or genteel comedy, for a cor-
pulent Michael Perez (and he played it well)
should not be placed by the side of Cacofogo.
John E. Harwood, off the stage, would have
shone as a man of fortune, and he had a wife
equally fitted to be a man of fortune's wife ; but
as unfit for a poor man's wife as he was for a
poor man. The consequence was the return to
the stage, which brings him again before the
reader."

Harwood's mood, in the volume of his verses
before us, is of a gonial, sentimental character,
softly tuned to melancholy at the voice of the
nightingale, or the full of the leaf; competent at
ode and elegy, and gallantly assisted, in its high-
est animation, by the presence of the sex. In an
" irregular ode" he rather irreverently speaks of
himself as a " dangler on a petticoat ;" a distinc-
tion which his constant attentions in verse to
Emma, Myra, and other ladies, in their various
humors, would seem fully to justify. There was
delicacy in his Muse as lie watched the fair ones
with a fond affection ; and sang bis amiable songs
after the manner of the gentleman of the olden
time, in the age which was at its height at the
beginning of the century.

ODE TO rNDOLENCE.

Goddess of ease ! whose all-lethargic sway

In drowsy fetters binds the senseless soui,
Whose mogic power e'en mighty seas obey,
And touch'd by thee in smoother billows roll,
At thine approach in summer's scorching heat,
The cattle grazing on the verdant plain
To some kind shade direct their weary feet,
T' enjoy sweet sleep beneath thy placid reign.

Oh ! take me, Goddess, to thy circling arms,
And pour sweet visions o'er my languid head ;

O'er every thought infuse thy magic charms,
And round my pillow all thy poppies spread.
What time the wearying sun, no longer bright,
Now paints the western sky with streaks of red ;
What time the moon extends her glimmering light,
And darkening shades advise the tranquil bed;

What time the shepherds urge to quiet folds,
And weary, haste to pen their tardy sheep;
What time " the air a solemn stillness holds,"
And weary nature welcomes balmy sleep ;
Oh, waft me, Goddess, to that, peaceful shore
Where drowsy silence lulls the quiet mind,
Where Strife's discordant voice is heard no more,
And sadd'ning thoughts a potent opiate find.
Bear me propitious to some fragrant seat,
Some couch of nature's sweetest flow'rets made ;
While slumbers hover o'er the still retreat,
And lull each sense within the languid shade.
Ne'er shall ambition's flame awake my breast,
Ne'er shall her honors gild my humble name,
For glory's votaries be the brass imprest,
And let admiring ages learn their fame.

And if the Mnse afford some latent fire,
May the dull couplet run in numbers slow —
Do thou a languid heaviness inspire,
And bid them, languid as myself, to flow.
Soon will the Muse's proudest landscape fade :
Soon, soon will death dispel the fleeting joy ;
Let not one envious wish disturb this sliade,
One weak desire this happy ease destroy.

And Bacchus, let me not thy orgies share,
Far be from me thy quarrel-breeding bowl ;
Let not the shouts of drunkards jar iny ear,
Nor folly's noise disturb my peaceful soul.
Now take me, Goddess, in thy circling arms,
And pour soft visions o'er this languid head ;
In every thought infuse thy magic charms,
And round my pillow peaceful poppies shed.

TO MISS S Y, ON RETURNING THE JUVENILIA OF WITHER.

I.

I thank thee for the simple lay,
Upon my memory fixt,
Which can such wholesome truths convey.
With so much sweetness mixt ;
- The sting of censure pleasantness can hide,
And. as it spares our pride,
It cannot fail to please ;
For those most wrong
Will love the song,
That can rebuke with ease I

ii.
And should I ever be in love,
As much I hope to be !
His verse my mistress' faith shall prove,
How true she loveth me ;
I will not trust the wanton, laughing eye,
Of heedless revelry,
Nor all the tricks of art;
But tears that flow,
Perforce for wo,
When sorrow melts the heart.

in.
The smile benign when virtue gains
A trium] >h over vice ;
Heart, like her bosom, free from stains,
An earthly paradise !
Though she herself can never, never slide.
Too gentle others to deride ;
With alabaster hand.
Not strctcli'd in show,
But to bestow
A blessing through the laud.

556

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Not to coquet 'with other men,

But truly cherish one :

ily passion to return again,

And smile on me alone ;

Though unreserved in discourse, and free,

Her lips reserved for me ;

So shall I pleasure prove,

And find a mate

To mine estate,

Full worthy of my love.

IN A "WOOD.

Meet Peace here holds her silent reign,

Along these paths she loves to rove. ;

Where nought is heard but the sweet strain,

The feathery songsters pour to love.
Sweet partners of the sylvan scene,
Ye have not half my love, I ween !

Not all that makes the forest ring ;
And if ye swell your little throats,
With all your softest, sweetest not,3s,

My love is greater far than ye can sing.

THE FRIENDS TO THEIR OPPOSITE NEIGHBORS.

Ah ! forbear, in mercy, ladies!

'Tis enough we own your sway ;
Neither such a hectoring blade is

Longer on the field to stay.

Mark'd by elegance and fashion,

Not to love were to be blind ;
Soon, too soon, the subtle passion

Chains an inexperienced mind.

With such dextrous art you wheedle,

Half-averted looks and smiles,
Hearts insnaring with your needle,

Music, romping, and such wiles.

Now, while mirth and harmless story

Stay the lagging foot of time,
We, your slaves, who much adore ye,

Tell our loves in doggrel rhyme.

Ladies, hear, in pity, hear us !

Spare the anguish of each heart !
Yield to love, you need not fear us,

Few so j'ouug are vers'd in art.

JOHN QDINCY ADAMS.

Joitm Quincy, the son of John Adams, was born
at the residence of his great-grandfather, John
Quiney, in Braintree, Massachusetts, July 11, 1767.
He was named John Quiney at the request of his
grandmother, after this aged relative, who was
dying at the time of his baptism. As his father
was absent from home on public affairs the child's
education devolved principally on his mother,
one every way fitted for her important position.
Every day, after saying his prayers, he was re-
quired to repeat the noble lines of Collins, com-
mencing—

How sleep the brave who sink to rest,

and the ode by the same author on the death of
Colonel Charles Boss* It was truly said of him

* This characteristic anecdote of bis childhood was read a
few ytars before bis death by Mr. Adams to Mr. Robert C.
Winthrop. from a letter which he had just written to John J.
Guroey, of England. " He recited the lines,'1 the narrator
says, " with an expression and an energy which I shall never
forget — the tears coursing down his cheeks, and his voice, every
bow and then, choked with emotion.1'

by Senator Davis, that " the cradle hymns of the
child were the songs of liberty."

In February, 1778, in his eleventh year, he ac-
companied his father on his mission to France.
He was placed at school in Paris, where he re-
mained until his return with his father after the
conclusion of the treaty with America in 1779.
"He is respected," writes his father the same
year, " wherever he goes for his vigor and viva-
city both of mind and body, for his constant
good humor, and for his rapid progress in French, '
as well as for his general knowledge, which at
his age is uncommon."

In 1781 he was made private secretary to the
Hon. Francis Dana, Minister to Russia. He re-
mained at the embassy until October, 1782, when
after a short tour he joined his father in Holland,
in April, 17S3. After the signature of the treaty
of peace at Paris in the following September, he
accompanied his father to England. In 1785 he
returned home with a letter from his father to
Benjamin Waterhouse, in which the son's acquire-
ments are spoken of with a just pride : —

TO BENJAMIN WATERnOFSE.

Autewil, 24 April, 1785.

This letter will be delivered you by your old ac-
quaintance John Quiney Adams, whom I beg leave
to recommend to your attention and favor. He is
anxious to study some time at your university be-
fore he begins the study of the law, which appears
at present to be the profession of his choice. He
must undergo an examination, in which I suspect he
will not appear exactly what he is. In truth, there
are few who take their degrees at college, who have
so much knowledge. But his studies having been
pursued by himself, on his travels, without any
steady tutor, he will be found awkward in speaking
Latin, in prosody, in parsing, and even, perhaps, in
that accuracy of pronunciation in reading orations
or poems in that language, which is often chiefly
attended to in such examinations. It seems to be
necessary, therefore, that I make this apology for
him to you, and request you to communicate it in
confidence to the gentlemen who are to examine
him, and such others as you think prudent. If you
were to examine him in English and French poetry,
I know not where you would find anybody his supe-
rior; in Roman and English history, few persons of
his age. It is rare to find a youth possessed of so
much knowledge. He has translated Virgil's jEneid,
Suetonius, the whole of Sallust, and Tacitus's Agri-
cola, his Germany, and several books of his Annals,
a great part of Horace, some of Ovid, and some of
Csesar's Commentaries, in writing, besides a number
of Tally's orations. These he may show you ; and
although you will find the translations in many pla-
ces inaccurate in point of style, as must be expected
at his age, you will see abundant pruof that it is
impossible to make those translations without under-
standing his authors and their language very well.

In Greek his progress has not been equal ; yet he
has studied morsels in Aristotle's Poetics, in Plu-
tarch's Lives, and Lucian's Dialogues, the choice of
Hercules, in Xenophon, and lately he has gone
through several books in Homer's Iliad.

In mathematics I hope he will pass muster. In
the course of the last year, instead of playing cards
like the fashionable world, I have spent my even-
ings with him. We went with some accuracy
through the geometry in the Preceptor, the eight
books of Simpson's Euclid in Latin, and compared
it, problem by problem, and theorem by theorem,

JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.

557

with le pere de Chales in French ; we went through
plane trigonometry and plane-sailing, Fenning's Al-
gebra, anil the decimal fractions, arithmetical and
geometrical proportions, and the conic sections, in
Ward's Mathematics. I then attempted a sublime
flight, and endeavored to give him some idea of the
differential method of calculation of the Marquis de
L'Hopit.il, and the method of fluxions and infinite se-
ries of Sir Isaac Newton ; but alas! it is thirty years
since I thought of mathematics, and I found 1 had
lost the little I once knew, especially of these higher
branches of geometry, so that he is as yet but a
smatterer, like his father. However, he has a foun-
dation laid, which will enable him with a year's at-
tendance on the mathematical professor, to make
the necessary proficiency for a degree. He is stu-
dious enough, and emulous enough, and when he
comes to mix with his new friends and young com-
panions, he will make his way well enough. I hope
he will be upon his guard against those airs of supe-
riority among the scholars, which his larger ac-
quaintance with the world, and his manifest superi-
ority in the knowledge of some things, may but too
naturally inspire into a young mind, and I beg of
you, Sir, to be his friendly monitor in this respect
and in all others.

He was of course prepared for an advanced class
at Harvard, and took liis degree in 1787, the year
after his admission. The subject of his Com-
mencement oration was The Importance and Ne-
cessity of Public Faith to the Well-being of a
Community .

Iiv 1790, after preliminary studies in the office
of Theophilus Parsons at Newbnryport, lie com-
menced the practice of the law, which he con-
tinued, varying his occupation by occasional com-
munications, signed Publicola and Marcellus, in
the Centinel, edited by Benjamin Russell, until
his appointment as Minister to the Hague in 1794
by Washington, who. in 1797 pronounced him
" the most valuable public character we have
abroad, and the ablest of all our diplomatic corps."
In July of the same year he was married to Louisa,
daughter of Joshua Johnson of Maryland, consu-
lar agent of the United States at London. lie
was soon after recalled by his father on his ac-
cession to the presidency. During his residence
abroad he made a tour in Silesia. A number of
letters, written to his brother during its progress,
were published by the latter in the Portfolio,
and were collected in a volume by a London
publisher in 1804.* The work is 'divided into
parts, one of which is devoted to a description,
and the other to statistical information respecting
the country.

In 1801 he was elected to the state Senate, and
in 1803 a member of the Senate of the United
States. In 1808 he resigned his seat in conse-
quence of the dissatisfaction of the state legisla-
ture with his advocacy of some of the measures
of Jefferson's administration. He had previously,
in 1806, been appointed Boylston Professor of
Rhetoric, in Harvard College, and continued the
discharge of his duties until he resigned in 1809.
In 1810 he published the lectures he had deli-

* Letters on Silesia, written during a tour through that
country in the years 1SO0, 1801, by liis Excellency John Quincy
Adams, then Minister Plenipotentiary from the United States
to the Court of Berlin, and since' a member of the American
Senate. London: 1804. 8vo. pp. 387.

vered in his courses.*' In 1810 he was appointed
by Madison Minister to Russia, where he re-
mained until 1815, when with Clay, Bayard,
Russell, and Gallatin he negotiated the treaty of
peace with England at Ghent, and was appointed
minister to that country in the same year by Ma-
dison. In 1817 he returned home, was appointed
Secretary of State by Monroe, and remained in
office eight years, when he was himself chosen
to the presidency by the House of Representa-
tives, on whom the choice had devolved. Ho re-
mained in office one term, when he was succeeded
by General Jackson. He was immediately after
elected a member of the House of Representa-
tives from his native state, a position which he
retained till his death. In 1833 he was nomi-
nated by the anti-masonic party as governor of
his state. The result of the contest between
three candidates threw the election into the
Legislature, there being no choice by the people,
whereupon Mr. Adams withdrew. He had pre-
viously, from 1831 to 1833, published a series of
letters condemnatory of the principles and prac-
tice of the Free-Masons, reprinted in a volume in
1847. Throughout his long and active political
career, Mr. Adams retained a fondness for litera-
ture. He published in 1832 a long poetical com-
position, Dermot Mae Morrogh^ the argument of
which is concisely summed up in a sentence of
the preface : —

Dermot Mac Morrogh, for insupportable tyranny
over his subjects, aggravated by the violation of the
most sacred of human ties, the seduction of another's
wife, is justly expelled from his kingdom. He imme-
diately repairs to " the greatest prince of his time,
for wisdom, virtue and abilities," and sells his coun-
try for the price of being restored by the foreign
invader to his principality. The English king, to
cover the basest of aggressions with the mantle of
religion, applies to Pope Adrian the Fourth, an Eng-
lishman, for authority to ravage Ireland with fire
and sword, under pretence of reforming the inhabit-
ants, and reducing them to the orthodox faith of
paying tribute to the Roman See. This authority
Pope Adrian grants him' without scruple. You may
! read in Rapiu the brief itself. And with this sacri-
| legious abuse of religion, Henry, reeking with the
blood of Becket, and Dermot, the ruffian builder of
monasteries, achieve the conquest of Ireland, in vas-
salage to the crown of England. And this is the
tenure by which Ireland is held as an appendage to
the sister island, at the present day.

It is written not at all happily, with a tame
adaptation of the Don Juan style, and consists of
a rhymed chronicle of the events it celebrates.
The subject, says the author—

The subject, was well adapted to the composition
of an historical tale, and as such I deliver it to the
judgment of ury country. It is intended also as a
moral tale, teaching the citizens of these States of
both sexes, the virtues of conjugal fidelity, of ge-
nuine piety, and of devotion to their country, by
pointing the finger of scorn at the example six hun-

* Lectures on Rhetoric, and Oratory, delivered to the classes
of Senior and Junior Sophistors in Harvard University. Cam-
bridge : Hilliard & Metcalf. 1810.

+ Dermot Mac Morroirli ; or, the Conquest of Ireland. An
Historical Tale of the Twelfth Century, in four cantos. By
John Quinev Adams. Boston: Carter", Hendee & Co., 1832.
Svo. pp. 10S.

558

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

dred years since exhibited of a country sold to a
foreign invader by the joint agency of violated mar-
riage vows, unprincipled ambition, and religious
imposture.

We extract

THE BONO.

Nought shines so bright in beauty's eyes,

As the bold warrior's gallant bearing:
The proudest deems his heart a prize ;

The fairest would his fate be sharing ;
Let Truth, let. Valor be thy guide;

And faithful love, thy priceless jewel —
Thou ne'er shalt lack a lovely bride;

Nor find a female bosom cruel.

'Tis true, the soldier's life is short;

But what is life, depriv'd of action?
The craven coward's base resort;

A universe, without attraction.
Then, urge thy courser to the field,

And thou slialt gain renown in story —
Compel the fiercest foe to yield ;

Or die upon the bed of glory.

Poems of a briefer compass on suhjects of the
day frequently appeared from his pen. A collec-
tion of these was made in 1848.* It contains a
poetic version of the thirteenth satire of Juvenal.
A small volume of letters, written from St. Pe-
tersburg to his son, On the Bible and its Teach-
ings, was published after his death. t

In 1830, on the seifii-eentenuial anniversary of
the adoption of the federal constitution, Mr.
Adams delivered an address before the Historical
Society of New York. He was of course fre-
quently called upon for such services, but his
public discourses of this character, with the ex-
ception of the funeral discourses on Madison and
Monroe delivered in 1836, 1834, and 1831, which
were re-published with the title of Lives of Cele-
brated Statesmen by John Quincy Adams, in
1846, have not been collected. lie was a constant
reader, and his admirable memory enabled him to
accumulate a vast stock of ready information. In
English as well as ancient and foreign literature,
he was thoroughly versed, and able to repeat long
passages from authors in various languages. He
translated Wieland's Oberon in verse, but withheld
liis version from the press on the appearance of
that of Sotheby.

In the latter part of his career Mr. Adams was
a leader of the anti-slavery party, and an inflexible
advocate of the right of petition on this as well as
on every other subject. He carried this so far as
on one occasion to present a petition for a disso-
lution of the Union, expressing at the same time
his dissent from and abhorrence of such a pro-
ceeding.

Mr. Adams retained the full vigor of his mind
and body by his temperate and active mode of life
to the hour almost of his death. He was in his
place in the House on the 21st of February, 1848,
and gave an emphatic " no" on a motion to pre-
sent the thanks of the House with gold medals to
various officers who had distinguished themselves
in the Mexican war. A little after this the course
of business was interrupted by a cry, " Mr. Adams

* Poems of Religion and Society by John Quincy Adams.
Ktw York : W. II. Graham. ISnio. pp. Iu8.
t Auburn. 185<l. 16mo. pp. 128.

J , H cAj-o.v*^

is dying." He was falling over the left side of
his chair, his right hand clutching at his .desk
for support. He was placed on a sofa, and re-
moved for air to the rotunda, and thence to the
door of the east portico. As he could not be taken
with safety to his residence he was carried to the
apartment of the Speaker, Mr. Winthrop. Here
he rallied enough to falter his memorable dying
words, " This is the end of earth — I am content."
He then sank into an apparent stupor, in which
he remained until he expired, at a quarter past
seven in the evening of the day but one after his
attack. " It is better to wear out than to rust
out," was the favorite maxim of Adams. It was
one which he lived fully up to, and with which
the circumstances of his last hours finely har-
monized. Had his mode of death been presented
to his choice in life, it would have probably been
joyfully accepted as a fitting close to his sixty-five
years of active public service.

THE WANTS OF MAN.*

" Man wants but little here below,
JNor wants that little loner. ' —

GoLdtsmith's Hermit

" Man wants but little here below,

Nor wants that little long."
'Tis not with me exactly so,

But 'tis so in the song.
My wants are many, and if told

Would muster many a score;
Anil were each wish a mint of gold,

I still should long for more.

'What first I want is daily bread,
And cauvass-backs and wine;

* It was written under these circumstances: — General Ogle
informed Mr. Adams that several young ladies in his district
had requested him to procure Mr. A.'s autograph for them. In
accordance with this request. Mr. Adams wrote the following
beautiful poem upon "The Wants of Man," each stanze upon a
sheet of note paper.

JOHN QUINCY ADAMS.

559

And all the realms of nature spread

Before me when I dine.
Four courses scarcely can provide

My appetite to quell,
With four choice cooks from France, beside,

To dress my dinner well.

in.
What next I want, at heavy cost,

Is elegant attire ; —
Black sable furs, for winter's frost,

And silks for summer's fire,
And Cashmere shawls, and Brussels lace

My bosom's front to deck.
And diamond rings my hands to grace,

And rubies for my neck.

IV.

And then I want a mansion fair,

A dwelling-house, in style,
Four stories high, for wholesome air—

A massive marble pile;
With halls for banquets and for balls,

All furnished rich and fine ;
With stabled studs in fifty stalls,

And cellars for my wine.

I want a garden and a park, '

My dwelling to surround —
A thousand acres (bless the mark),

With walls encompassed round —
Where flocks may range and herds may low,

And kids and lambkins play,
And flowers and fruits commingled grow,

All Eden to display.

I waut, when summer's foliage falls,

And autumn strips the trees,
A house within the city's walls,

For comfort and for ease.
But here, as space is somewhat scant,

And acres somewhat rare.
My house in town I only want

To occupy a square.

VII.

I want a steward, butler, coolcs;

A coachman, footman, grooms,
A library of well-bound books,

And picture-garnished rooms;
Corregios, Magdalen, and Night,

The matron of the chair;
Guido's fleet coursers in their flight,

And Claudes at least a pair.

VIII.

I want a cabinet profuse

Of medals, coins, and gems;
A printing press, for private use,

Of fifty thousand ems;
And plants, and minerals, and shells;

Worms, insects, fishes, birds;
And every beast on earth that dwells,

In solitude or herds.

I want a board of burnished plate,

Of silver and of gold ;
Tureens of twenty pounds in weight,

With sculpture's richest mould ;
Plateaus, with chandeliers and lamps.

Plates, dishes — all the same ;
And porcelain vases, with the stamps

Of Sevres, Angouleme.

And maples, of fair glossy stain,

Must form my chamber doors,
And carpets of the Wilton grain

Must cover all my floors ;
My walls, with tapestry bedeck'd,

Must never be outdone ;
And damask curtains must protect

Their colors from the sun.

And mirrors of the largest pane

From Venice must be brought ;
And sandal- wood, and bamboo can-?,

For chairs and tables bought ;
On all the mantel-pieces, clocks

Of thrice-gilt bronze must stand,
And screens of ebony and box

Invite the stranger's hand.

XII.

I want (who does not want?) a wif3,

Affectionate and fair,
To soia£e all the woes of life,

And all its joys to share ;
Of temper sweet,, of yielding will,

Of firm, yet placid mind.
With all my faults to love me still,

AVith sentiment refiu'd.

And as Time's car incessant runs,

And Fortune fills my store,
I want of daughters and of sons

From eight to half a score.
I want (alas ! can mortal dare

Such bliss on earth to crave ?)
That all the girls be chaste and fair —

The boys all wise and brave.

xrv.
And when my bosom's darling sing.:,

With melody divine,
A pedal harp of many strings

Must with her voice combine.
A piano, exquisitely wrought,

Must open stand, apart,
That all my daughters may be taught

To win the stranger's heart.

xv.

My wife and daughters will desiro

Refreshment from perfumes,
Cosmetics for the skin require,

And artificial blooms.
The civet fragrance shall dispense,

And treasur'd sweets return ;
Cologne revive the flagging sense,

And smoking amber burn.

XVI.

And when at night my weary head

Begins to droop and doze,
A southern chamber holds my bed,

_For nature's soft repose;
With blankets, counterpanes, and sheet,

Mattrass, and bed of down,
And comfortables for my feet,

And pillows for my crown.

xvn.
I want a warm and faithful friend,

To cheer the adverse hour,
Who ne'er to flatter will descend,

Nor bend the knee to power;
A friend to chide me when I'm wrong,

My inmost soul to see ;

560

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

And that my friendship prove as stron;
For him, as his for me.

XVIII.

I want a kind and tender heart,

For others' wants to feel ;
A soul secure from Fortune's dart.

And bosom arm'd with steel ;
To bear divine chastisement's rod,

And mingling: hi my plan,
Submission to the will of God,

With charity to man.

XIX.

I want a keen, observing eye,

An ever-listening ear,
The truth through all disguise to spy,

And wisdom's voice to hear ;
A tongue, to speak at virtue's need,

In Heaven's subliinest strain ;
And lips, the cause of man to plead,

And never plead in vain.

xx.

I want uninterrupted health,

Throughout my long career,
And streams of never-failing wealth,

To scatter far and near ;
The destitute to clothe and feed,

Free bounty to bestow ;
Supply the helpless orphan's need,

AJid soothe the widow's woe.

I want the genius to conceive,

The talents to unfold,
Designs, the vicious to retrieve,

The virtuous to uphold ;
Inventive power, combining skill,

A persevering soul,
Of human hearts to mould the will,

And reach from pole to pole.

XXIL

I want the seals of power and place,

The ensigns of command,
Charged by the people's unbought grace,

To rule my native land.
Nor crown, nor sceptre would I ask

But from my country's will,
By day, by night, to ply the task

Her cup of bliss to fill.

xxnL
I want the voice of honest praise
, To follow me behind,
And to he thought in future days

The friend of human kind ;
That after ages, as they rise,

Exulting may proclaim,
In choral union to the skies.

Their blessings on my name.

^ 4

XXIV.

These are the wants of mortal man ;

I cannot want them long,
For life itself is but a span,
. And earthly bliss a song.
My last great want, absorbing all ,

Is, when beneath the sod,
And summoii'd to my final call,

The mercy of my God.

And oh ! while circles in my veins
Of life the purple stream,

And yet a fragment small remains
Of nature's transient dream.

My soul, in humble hope unscar'd,

Forget not thou to pray,
That this thy want may be prepared

To meet the Judgment Day.

FROM THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF JAMES MADISON.

This constitution, my countrymen, is the great
result of the North American revolution. This is
the giant stride in the improvement of the condition
of the human race, consummated in a period of less
than one hundred years. Of the signers of the ad-
dress to George the Third in the Congress of 1774 —
of the signerB of the Declaration of Independence in
1776 — of the signers of the Articles of Confederation
in 1781, and of the signers of the federal and na-
tional Constitution of Government under which we
live, with enjoyments never before allotted to man,
not one remains in the land of the living. The last
survivor of them all was he to honor whose memory
we are here assembled at once with mourning and
with joy. We reverse the order of sentiment and
reflection of the ancient Persian king — we look back
on the century gone by — we look around with anx-
ious and eager eye for one of that illustrious host of
Patriots and heroes, under whose guidance the revo-
lution of American Independence Avas begun, and
continued, and completed. We look around in vain.
To them this crowded theatre, full of human life, in
all the stages of existence, full of the glowing exul-
tation of youth, of the steady maturity of manhood,
the sparkling eyes of beauty, and the grey hairs of
reverend age — all this to them is as the solitude of
the sepulchre. We think of this and say, how short
is human life ! But then, then, we turn back our
thoughts again, to the scene over which the falling
curtain lias but now closed upon the drama of the
day. From the saddening thought that they are no
more, we call for comfort upon the memory of what
they were, and our hearts leap for joy, that they
were our fathers. We see them, true and faithful
subjects of their sovereign, first meeting with firm
but respectful remonstrance, the approach of usur-
pation upon their rights. We see them,' fearless in
their fortitude, and confident in the righteousness of
their cause, bid defiance to the arm of power, and
declare themselves Independent States. We see
them waging for seven years a war of desolation
and of glory, in most unequal contest with their own
unnatural stepmother, the mistress of the seas, till,
under the sign-manual of their king, their Independ-
ence was acknowledged— -and last and best of all, we
see them, toiling in war and in peace to form and
perpetuate an union, under forms of Government
intricately but skilfully adjusted so as to secure to
themselves and their posterity the priceless blessings
of inseparable liberty and law.

Their days on earth are ended, and yet their cen-
tury has not passed away. 'Their portion of the
blessings which they thus labored to secure, they
have enjoyed, and transmitted to us, their posterity.
We enjoy them as an inheritance — won, not by our
toils — watered, not with our tears — saddened, not
by the shedding of any blood of ours. The gift of
heaven through their sufferings and their achieve-
ments— but not without a charge of corresponding
duty incumbent upon ourselves.

And what, my friends and fellow citizens — what
is that duty of our own ? Is it to remonstrate to the
adder's ear of a king beyond the Atlantic wave, and
claim from him the restoration of violated rights?
No. Is it to sever the ties of kindred and of blood
with the people from whom we sprang? To cast
away the precious name of Britons, and be no more
the countrymen of Shak&peare and Milton — of New-
ton and Locke — of Chatham and Burke ? Or more

THADDEUS MASON" HARRIS.

5G1

and worse, is it to meet their countrymen in the
deadly conflict of a seven years' war? No. Is it
the last and greatest of the duties fulfilled by them?
Is it to lay the foundation of the fairest Government
and the mightiest nation that ever floated on the tide
of time ? No! These awful and solemn duties were
allotted to them ; and by them they were faithfully
performed. What then is our duty ? Is it not to
preserve, to cherish, to improve the inheritance which
they have left us — won by their toils — watered by
their tears — saddened but fertilized by their blood ?
Are we the sons of worthy sires, and in the onward
march of time have they achieved in the career of hu-
man improvement so much, only that our posterity
and theirs may blush for the contrast between their
unexampled energies and our nerveless impotence ?
between their more than Herculean labors aud our
indolent repose ? No, my fellow citizens, far be from
us, far be from you, for he who now addresses you
has but a few short days before he shall be called to
join the multitude of ages past — far be from you the
reproach or the suspicion of such a degrading contrast.
You too have the solemn duty to perform, of improv-
ing the condition of your species, by improving your
own. Not in the great and strong wind of a revo-
lution, which rent the mountains and brake in pieces
the rocks before the Lord — for the Lord is not in the
wind — not in the earthquake of a revolutionary war,
marching to the onset between the battle field and
the scaffold — for the Lord is not in the earthquake—
not in the fire of civil dissension — in war between
the members and the head — in nullification of the
laws of the Union by the forcible resistance of one
refractory State — for the Lord is not in the fire ; and
that, fire was never kindled by your fathers! No! itis
in the still small voice that succeeded the whirlwind,
the earthquake, and the fire. The voice that stills
the raging of the waves and the tumults of the
people — that spoke the words of peace — of harmony
— of union. And for that voice, may you and your
children's children, " to the last syllable of recorded
time," fix your eyes upon the memory, and listen
with your ears to the life of James Madison.

THADDEUS MASON IIAEEIS.

The Rev. Thaddeus Mason Harris, one of a family
distinguished for its attention to American anti-
quarian literature, was librarian at Harvard from
1701 to 1793, as his son, the Eev. Thaddeus
William Harris, distinguished as an entomologist,
has occupied the position since 1831.* The

father was born in Charlestown in 1768, and be-
came a graduate in the Harvard class with John
Quincy Adams in 1787, when he delivered a
poem on History, which Dr. Belknap at the time
complimented. He became teacher of a school
at Worcester, and was invited by Washington to
become his private secretary, an honorable posi-
tion which he eagerly accepted, when he was

* A grandson, Wi! in Thaddeus Harris, died in 1S54 at the
ogeottwenty-Bieht, leaving a reputation or antiquarian accom-
plishments and diligence.

vol. i. — 36

[ prevented engaging in it by an attack of illness.

; He then pursued a theologic course at Cambridge,
where, in 1700, he delivered a Phi Beta Kappa

; Oration on " Learned Associations." In 1793, he

i became pastor of the church in Dorchester where
he continued through a long life. In 1790 he
published an elegy, The Triumphs of Supersti-
tion* which denotes his thought and feeling, and
the opening lines of which we may quote for
their appropriate imagery : —

THE TEIUMPHS OF SUPERSTITION.

The sun retires. Night spreads her dusky plume.

The gray mist rises from the passing stream.
Yon cloud, o'ershadowing, deepens all the gloom :

And the heart trembles as the lightnings gleam.

Pale terror wanders o'er the dewy lawn.

The loud blast groans along the distant shore.
The ghost, complaining, rides upon the storm.

The sea rolls high: the beating surges roar.

Now guilt forsakes his agonizing bed,

Where conscience planted many a piercing thorn.
Kind sleep has left his eye; each joy is fled:

He waits, impatient for the coming morn.

Full many an airy shape— dejected — pale,

To his sad mind imagination paiuts ;
And as they flit across the blighted vale,

He hears the breeze — they sigh ; he chills and
faints.

Yet gentle innocence, with bosom pure,

Fears not the loud wind's groan, the breeze's
sigh,

But walks abroad in virtue's garb secure,
Nor startles as the harmless lightnings fly.

Mark, as deep musing in these still retreats,
No anxious pang distracts her peaceful soul;

No pulse tumultuous in her wild breast beats;
No goblins haunt, nor fancied death-bells toll.

Come, let us join the solitary dame,

Though panting terror frowns along the vale.

And hear attentively her useful strain :

When reason dictates, let her truths prevail.

A portion of the poem is taken up with the
story of the desecration, by a parent, of the grave
of his daughter, and the burning of the remains
to provide a charm for the health of their sisters
which a note speaks of as an actual occurrence at
Ballston.

There is a pleasing reminiscence of Harris at
this period, in connexion with the youth of Ed-
ward Everett, When the latter was about four
years old, at his birth-place, in Dorchester, he re-
cited the following copy of verses which Mason
wrote for the child, the "little roan" referring
to the color of the speaker's hair.f

THE LITTLE ORATOR.

Pray, how should I, a little lad,

In speaking, make a figure ?
You're only joking, I'm afraid, —

Do wait till I am bigger.

* The Triumphs of Superstition ; an Elegy. By a Student
of Harvard University.

" Superstitio error iusanus est ; amandos timet, quos collt
violat." — Seneca's Epist.

'■ Tantum Superstitio potuit suadere inalorllin !" — Virgil.
(Sic)

Printed at Boston, by Isaiah Thomas, and Ebcuezer T. An-
drews, at Faust's Statue, No. 45 Newberry -street. 17110.

t Loring's Boston Orators, p. 531.

562

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

But, 6ince you wish to hear my part,

And urge me to begin it,
I'll strive for praise, with all my heart,

Though small the hope to win it.

I'll tell a tale how Farmer John

A little roan-colt bred, sir,
And every night and every morn

He water'd and he fed, sir.

Said neighbour Joe to farmer John,
" Arn't you a silly dolt, sir,
To spend such time and care upon
A little useless colt, sir ?"

Said Farmer John to Neighbour Joe,
" I'll bring my little ro.'in up,
Not for the good he now can do,
But will do, when he's grown up."

The moral you can well espy,
To keep the tale from spoiling ;

The little colt, you think, is I, —
I know it by your smiling.

And now, my friends, please to excuse
My lisping and my stammers ;

I, for this once, have done my best,
And so — I'll make my manners.

His pastoral duties were varied by a journey
for his health in the western states and a tour in
Great Britain. As a memorial of the former he
published, on his return, his " Journal of a Tour
into the Territory North-west of the Alleghany
Mountains, made in the Spring of the year 1803,
with a geographical and historical account of the
State of Ohio." Its dedication is characteristic
of his mood.

To the candor of the Public

I submit my work ;

to the

Providence and favour of Almighty God

I commend my beloved family ;

And to the hopes,

Not of the present,

but

Of the future life,

I resign myself.

In the same year, 1803, he published a compi-
lation, in four small volumes, entitled the " Minor
Encyclopaedia," which Daniel Webster remem-
bered as a useful work. In 1805 he delivered a
Phi Beta Kappa poem " On the Patronage of
Genius." In 1820 he published a " Natural His-
tory of the Bible," on which he had been long
engaged, which was pirated and mutilated in
England, and tran.-lated in Germany. Visiting
Savannah for his health, his antiquarian inquiries
led him to write his " Biographical Memorials of
James Oglethorpe, founder of Georgia," which
appeared in 1841. He also published numerous
Sermons and Addresses, many of the latter in
connexion with the Masonic Fraternity, of which
he was a member. He also took an active part
in the several historical and learned societies of
his clay. He (lied in 1842, in his seventy-fourth
year. Dr. Frothingham has drawn iiis character,
that of an amiable divine and sensitive scholar,
with tenderness in his memoir in the publications
of the Massachusetts Historical Society,* of which
Harris was one of the original members. .

* Mass. Hist. Soe. Coll., Fourth Series, ii. 180.

JOSEPH DENNIE,
Tub elegant essayist, the "lay preacher" of
the old American journals, was born at Boston,
August 10, 1768. He acquired his literature at
Harvard, of the class of 1790, reading law after-
wards with Benjamin West at Charleston, New
Hampshire, in which state he opened an office at
Walpole.

Dennie made one attempt at the bar, of which
a humorous account was published by his friend
and early litei'ary associate Royal Tyler.* He
spoke like an elegant scholar, with some unneces-
sary eloquence, on a provisory note case before
a crude provincial judge, who did not appreciate
his rhetoric, was discomfited by the bluntness of
the bench, and did not renew his efforts.

The Farmer's Museum, published at Walpole,
New Hampshire, originally established by Isaiah
Thomas and David Carlisle in 1793, under the
editorship of Dennie, who, after having con-
tributed to its columns, became its conductor in
1796, gathered around it one of the most brilliant
corps of writers ever congregated to advance the
fortunes of a similar undertaking in America. It
numbered among its authors, each constantly fur-
nishing a department, the witty lawyer Royal
Tyler, a man of acute mind and well directed
powere ; David Everett, Thomas Green Fessenden,
Isaac Story, and others, whose abilities may be
traced in its elegantly arranged folio pages. The
inventions of the paper were endless. Poem,
essay, criticism, were served up with the skill of
a French cook compounding his hundredth varia-
tion of omelette. There were the " Farrago," the
" Lay Preacher," the " Shop of Colon and Spon-
dee," "Peter Quince," " Simon Spunkev," " The
Hermit," " The Rural Wanderer," " Peter Pendu-
lum," " The Desk of Beri Hesden," every trick
of alliteration to catch the negligent readers.t

Dennie wrote for the Museum, The Farrago,
a series of essays full of warm apprehension of
the poetic beauties of life and literature; the
Lay Preacher, which had the fault of irreverence
in taking its texts for familiar discussion from
Scripture, though jarring upon the reader less in
Dennie's hands from his good taste and tone of
morality,| and ne projected The Wandering Jew,
which was to close his labors in this kind.

In the Port Folio the "Lay Preacher" de-
scribes himself accomplishing his series of essays,
"a young man, valetudinary, without fortune,

* In the New England Galaxy, July 24, 1818. Quoted in
Buckingham's Newspaper Literature.

t The" mottoes of the Farmer's Museum at different times in-
dicate its spirit : —

Ho, every one that thirsteth for novelty, come 1
At another period it had the lines from Bunyan at its head —
Wouldst thou remember
From New Tear's day to the last of December,
Then read —

which gave place to the verses, appropriate to its rural locality,
from Goldsmith's Village —

Hither, each week, the peasant shall repair,
To sweet oblivion of his daily care;
Again the farmer's news — the barber's tale,
Again the woodman's ballad shall prevail.

Buckingham's Newspaper Literature, ii. 174-220.

% Since successfully followed by the Sermons of Dow, Jun.,
who takes his text from the profane classic authors, and whoso
three volumes, though the mannerism tires in the end, are re-
plete with good feeling and many nice though inverted poeti-
cal expressions.

JOSEPH DENOTE.

563

without a patron, •without an auxiliary, without
popular encouragement ;" — which he could hardly
mean literally, but which was all true enough of
the state of literature at the time. The best
talents were then gratuitously exercised for the
public. The Farmer's Museum itself, with its
brilliant array, was suffered to decline, while poor
Dennie was calling on the public to subscribe and
authors to write (for fame), as if both were
under equal obligation. The paying days of
American authorship had not yet dawned. Books,
even small duodecimos, were published by sub-
scription with humiliating " proposals " by sensi-
tive authors. A very clever resident English
author in the country, John Davis, writer of a
lively book of travels in the United States, which
he dedicated to Jefferson, offered, by an advertise-
ment, in 1801, two novels, fruits of his winter
labors, to any bookseller in the country who would
publish them — on the condition of receiving fifty
copies. The booksellers of New York, where he
lived, could not, he said, undertake them, for they
were dead of the fever.*

A notice to " Readers and Correspondents " in
the Museum, Dec. 4, 1797, indicates its height of
popularity, which it is curious to contrast with
the claims of publishers fifty years later, by the
million, with the area of reading enlarged to
Mexico and the Pacific : —

"The constant swell of our subscription book
suggests a theme to our gratitude and a motive
to our industry. The Farmer's Museum is read
by more than two thousand individuals, and has
its patrons in Europe and on the banks of the
Ohio."

Dennie was emploved upon the Museum from
1795 to 1799, when" he left for Philadelphia, to
edit the United States Gazette. In 1800, lie com-
menced with the bookseller, Asbury Dickens, the
publication of the Port Folio, at first a weekly
miscellany in quarto, in which form it remained
for five years, when it was changed to an octavo,
monthly, Dennie continuing the editor till his
deatht

The five large quarto pages of prospectus in
which Dennie announces to the world the hopes

* Davis visited anrl resided in Georgia and Virginia as a :
teacher. He saw pood company and enjoyed tin- climate,
looking out npon the beauties of nature with his Horace in
his hand. He wrote an Ode to the Mocking Bird, and poems
• on the Ashley River and the Natural Bridge. His sketches of
the literary society of Philadelphia, and of American author- j
ship generally, in his Travels, which is a book of pleasant ]
exaggerations, is amusing. This is one of his notices on the
Port "Folio.

" The editor of the Aurora calls the Port Foli-o the Porta-
ble Foolery ; and his facetiousness is applauded by one party,
and scorned by the other. But a better quibble on the word
would be, to name it the Court Olio; for it mingles the
dresses at St. James with speculations on literature. It I
being rumored that Mr. Dennie had been denominated by the
British Reviewer , the American Addison, the following
ludicrous paragraph appeared in the Aurora Gazette, ' Ex- i
ult ye white hills of New Hampshire, redoubtable Monadnock
and Twckaway 1 Laugh ye waters of the WimUeOpee and '.
Vmhagoq Lakes I Flow Mnooth in heroic ve.se ye streams |
of Amoonoosuck and Androscoggin, Cockhoko and Coritocook I
And you merry Merrimack be how more merry P "

t The. several series of the Port Folio embrace in all forty-
seven volumes. Its succession of editors was, Dennie, assist-
ed by Paul Allen; Nicholas Biddle for a short period; Charles
Caldwell, M.D., April 1814 to Dec. 1S15; John E. Hall. Jan.
181fi to Dec. 1S27. There is a general index, in the volume
closing the year 1S25, to Hall's twenty volumes from 1816. The
work was continued for two years further, with diminished vi-
tality, when it finally expired in 1827.

and intentions of the Fort Folio, are a model of
editorial sanguine faith and diligence. "Pro-
spectus of a new weekly paper, submitted to men
of affluence, men of liberality, and men of letters.
A young man, once known among village readers
as the humble historian of the hour, the con-
ductor of a Farmer's Museum and a Lay Preach-
er's Gazette, again offers himself to the public as
a volunteer editor. Having, as he conceives, a
right to vary at pleasure his fictitious name, he
now, for higher reasons than any fickle humor
might dictate, assumes the appellation of Old
Soiiool."

Dennie was followed to the Port Folio by his
friend Tyler, who continued his contributions
" from the shop of Messrs. Colon and Spondee"
to his journal, displaying his copious and refined
stores of reading, and urging many a point of
well digested criticism and observation.

Dennie's broken health compelled him to retire
for a while from the editorship of the Port Folio
in the summer and autumn of 1811, a depression
which was much enhanced by the death of his
father ; but with the succeeding year he returned
to the work, addressing the public with the hope-
fulness of the editor, who must always affect that
virtue if he has it not. He did not long survive.
The number of his periodical for January con-
tained some mournful editorial anticipations from
his pen.

TO THE PUBLIC

During the autumnal and midsummer months of
the lust year, which lias forever fled away, on the
pinions of Time, the Editor of this Journal was
compelled to relinquish its duties, and to be regard-
less of its delights, in consequence of the furious on-
set of three potent adversaries, Sickness, Sorrow,
and Adversity. Under the ardency of the summer
solstice, and while * the dor/ star's unpropitious ray
wns flaming, he was confined to the couch of Languor
and Anguish ; and, in the decline of autumn, he was
afflicted by one of the most tremendous domestic ca-
lamities, which can agonize the Sensibility, nourish
the Melancholy, and overpower the Fortitude j- of
man.J The influence of infirm health, in marring
the operations, both of manual and mental industry,
is familiar to every patient, as well as to every phy-
sician ; and when to corporeal Pain and yawning
Lassitude, the "Sickness of the Soul" is superadded,
from such an abhorred alliance all the brilliant
powers of Invention, and all the strong body guards
of Labour keep obstinately aloof, or fly timidly
away. The pen of the readiest writer corrodes in
the standish ; his papers atid projects reposing, in-
gloi'iously, on the shelves of dust, or in the pigeon
holes of oblivion. His desk is overthrown, his ma-
nuscripts are mouldy, and his vase of ink is as dry
as the vessel of the gospel outcast, while wandering
in the parched wilderness of Beersheba. What
Johnson emphatically calls the load of life, is then
truly wearisome. Society presents nothing to glad-
den, and Solitude nothing to soothe. In vain do we
fly to the sequestered shades of the country. Let
all the beauties of Nature solicit our notice § — let
all the diversities of Pleasure court our acceptance
■ — let. the birds carol enehantingly in the grove, and
the flowers bloom odoriferously in the meadow ; let
the breeze whisper softly in the wood, and the sua

* Pope.

t The death of his father.

t Edmund Burke.
§ Dr. Johnson.

561

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN" LITERATURE.

dance gaily on the water ; each rural sight, each
rural sound s is equally lost to him, who is under
the dominion of that relentless Power, which the
poet Gray energetically calls vthe Tamer of the hu-
man bkeast,

Whose iron scourge, and torturing hour
The bad affright, afflict the best.

By one, who was himself a severe sufferer, it has
been remarked, with truth and eloquence, that there
are, perhaps, very few conditions more to be regret-
ted than that of an active mind, labouring under
the weight of a distempered body. The time of
such a man is always spent in forming schemes,
which a change of wind hinders him from executing ;
his powers fume away in projects and in hope, and
the day of action never arrives. He lies down, de-
lighted with the thoughts of to-morrow, pleases his
Ambition with the Fame he shall acquire, or his
benevolence with the Good he shall impart. But in
the night the skies are overcast, the temper of the
air is changed, lie wakes in languor, impatience and
distraction, and has no longer any wisli but for
ease, nor any attention but to misery. It may be
said that Disease generally begins that equality,
which Death completes ; the distinctions, which set
one man so much above another, are very little per-
ceived in the gloom of a sick chamber, where it will
be vain to expect entertainment from the gay, or in-
struction from the wise; where all human glory is
obliterated, the wit is clouded, the reasoner per-
plexed, and the hero subdued; where the highest
and brightest of mortal beings finds nothing left
him but the consciousness of innocence.

On the seventh of the month in which this
was published, lie died suddenly, at the early age
of forty-four. The obituary in the next issue of
the journal speaks warmly, in a style of elegance
emulous of his own, of his literary accomplish-
ments and personal virtues. " So pure was its
texture, so delicate its conception-:, that his mind
seemed, if we may speak so, to have been bathed
at its birth in the very essence of literature — to
be daily fed with the celestial dews of learning/'
His conversation was the counterpart of his
writings, delighting in moral topics, and graced
by his fine stores of poetical reading. He was
free from the jealousies of the literary profession,
a happy condition for the editorial life he was
called to assume. His amiability is reflected on
every page of his writings, though occasionally
tinged by a tone of disappointment.

Buckingham, who was an apprentice to the
publisher of the Museum, and carried copy from
Dennie, describes his personal appearance in 1796.
He was rather below than above the middling
height, and was of slender frame ; was attentive
to fashion in his dress, appearing one May morn-
ning at the office " in a pea-green coat, white
vest, nankin small-clothes, white silk stockings,
and pumps fastened with silver buckles, which
covered at least half the foot from the instep to
the toe." He wrote very rapidly, and like most
persons connected with the press, deferred copy
till the last moment. " One of the best of his
lay-sermons," says Buckingham, " was written at
the village tavern, directly opposite to the office,
in a chamber where he and his friends were
amusing themselves with cards. It was delivered
to me by piece-meal, at four or five different

* Cowper.

times. If he happened to be engaged in a game,
when I applied for copy, he would ask some one
to play his hand for Mm, while he would give the
devil his due. "When I called for the closing para-
graph of the sermon, he said, call again in Jive
minutes. ' No,' said Tyler, ' I'll write the im-
provement for you.' He accordingly wrote a con-
cluding paragraph, and Dennie never saw it till
it was in print."

Buckingham speaks of his being " a premature
victim to social indulgence," and Knapp* thinks
the habit was increased by the attic nights of the
Philadelphia wits when the poet Moore was in
their company, and that Dennie acquired a dis-
trust of American society, quoting Cliffton's com-
plaint of "the land where fancy sickens, and
where genius dies." There was doubtless some
cause for dissatisfaction ; for it should not be for-
gotten that Dennie wrote laboriously and well
when the rewards of literature were scanty,
and the position of the writer uncertain. H' he
wavered in his course, his sensibility may very
naturally have led him astray. •

Dennie's convivial tastes led him to the forma-
tion of a social gathering which was known in
Philadelphia as the Tuesday Club. It included a
number of the contributors to the Port Folio.
Gen. Thomas Cadwallader who gave translations
from Horace in the Magazine, Samuel Ewing a
son of the Provost, who wrote with the signa-
ture "Jacques," Thomas Warton, Philip the son
of General Hamilton, "Wood the actor, Richard
Rush, and Richard Peters author of the Law
Reports, were members. John Quincy Adams,
Gouv. Morris, Judge Hopkinson, Horace Binney,
Robert Walsh, the Rev. John Blair Linn, Charles
Brockden Brown, and Charles J. Inger.-oll, were
also contributors to the Port Folio, which, under
the efficient management of the publisher, Har-
rison Hall, in its best days, largely occupied the'
attention of the reading public in its departments
of literature.

As an Essayist, Dennie's influence was confined
to the periodical literature of his day, only two
scanty collections of his papers having been pub-
lished:— The Lay Preacher ; or Short Sermons
for Idle Headers, printed at Walpole in 179'6, and
a volume also of the Lay Preacher, collected and
arranged by John E. Hall, in Philadelphia, in
1817.

The style of the Lay Preacher in which Dennie, as
he himself tells us, aimed to unite " the familiarity
of Franklin with the simplicity of Sterne," does
not always suggest those qualities. Its elegance is
occasionally somewhat plethoric of adjectives and
fine phrases, especially in the earlier series;
while it has a vein of ingenuity and gentle humor
belonging to itself.

ON THE PLEASURES OF STUDY.

"Blessed is he that readeth." — Rev. i. 1.

"Whenever I reflect upon my habitual attachment
to books, I feel a new glow of gratitude towards that
Power, who gave me a mind thus disposed, and to
those liberal friends, who have allowed the utmost
latitude of indulgence to my propensity. Had I been
born on a barbarous Bhore, denied the glorious pri-
vileges of education, and interdicted an approach to

* American Biography.

JOSEPH DENOTE.

565

the rich provinces of literature, I should have been
the most miserable of niankini With a tempera-
ment of sensibility, with the nerves of a valetudi-
narian, with an ardent thirst for knowledge, and
very scanty means for its acquisition, with a mind
often clouded with care, and depressed by dejection,
I should have resembled the shrinking vegetable of
irritableness, and like the mimosa of the gardens,
have been doomed to be at once stupid and sensi-
tive. The courses of nature and fortune having ta-
ken a different direction, parental benignity having
furnished me with the keys, and discipline and habit
having conducted me through the portico of educa-
tion, I have ever found, whether walking in the
vestibule of science, or meditating in the groves of
philosophy, or hearkening to historians and poets,
or rambling with Rabelais, such excellent compa-
nions, that life has been beguiled of more than half
its irksomeness. In sickness, in sorrow, in the most
doleful days of dejection, or in the most gloomy sea-
eons in the calendar, study is the sweetest solace
and the surest refuge, particularly when my reading
is directed to that immortal book", whence the theme
of this essay is taken. In an hour of adversity,
when I have caught up this precious volume, I have
found, instantly, the balm of Gilead aud the medi-
cine for the mind. The darkness of despair has been
succeeded by the brightest rays of cheerfulness, and
in place of grim phantoms, I have found comfort,
peace, and serenity.

I hope that this style of speaking occasionally in
the first person will be forgiven, even by the most
fastidious reader, when he adverts to the custom of
my predecessors. A periodical writer can hardly
avoid this sort of egotism, and it is surely very
harmless when its employer muffles himself in the
mantle of concealment, and in the guise, whether of
a shrewd Spectator or a simple Lay Preacher, walks
unobtrusively abroad. Mr. Addison and Monsieur
Montaigne perpetually indulge this habit ; and on a
very careful inspection of many editions of their es-
says, I have always found, by certain infallible
marks, that those speculations had been most dili-
gently perused, which abound in little sketches of
the manners, humours, and habits of their authors.
We are naturally curious thus to peep through the
keyhole of a study, to see a writer in his elbow-
chair, and to listen to his story with the fondness
and familiarity of friendship. Anonymous authors
have a prescription from Parnassus to paint them-
selves; and when by a Tatler, a Spectator, or a
Connoisseur, nothing but good colours and modest
tinting is employed, men look with mingled curi-
osity and complacency at the picture. In a specu-
lation on the blessings derived from a studious tem-
per, if a miniature of a lover of books is introduced,
provided it be a tolerable resemblance, and viewed
in a proper light, it will, by an easy association,
lead the observer to reflect more intensely upon the
value of literature.

The utility and delight of a taste for books are as
demonstrable as any axiom of the severest science.
The most prosperous fortune is often harassed by
various vexations. The sturdiest son of strength is
sometimes the victim of disease. Melancholy will
sometimes involve the merriest in her shade, and
the fairest month of the year will have its cloudy
days. In these dreary seasons, from which no man
may hope to escape, sensual delights will not fill
scarcely a nook in the gloomy void of the troubled
time. Brief as the lightning in the collied night,
this sort of pleasure may flash before the giddy eyes,
but then merely for a moment, and the twinkling
radiance is still surrounded with the murkiest gloom.
Eating, drinking, aud sleeping; the song and the

dance, the tabret and viol, the hurry of dissipation,
the agitation of play, these resources, however hus-
banded, are inadequate to the claims of life. On
the other hand, the studious and contemplative man
has always a scheme of wisdom by which he can
either endure or forget the sorrows of the heaviest
day. Though he may be cursed with care, yet he
is surely blessed when he readeth. Stud}' is the
dulce lenimen laborunt of the Sabine bard. It is sor-
row's sweet assuagcr. By the aid of a book, he can
transport himself to the vale of Tempe, or the gar-
dens of Armida. He may visit Pliny at his villa, or
Pope at Twickenham. He may meet Plato on the
banks of Ilyssus, or Petrarch among the groves of
Avignon. He may make philosophical experiments
with Bacon, or enjoy the eloquence of Bolingbroke.
He may speculate with Addison, moralize with John-
son, read tragedies and comedies with Shakspearc,
and be raptured by the rhetoric of Burke.

In many of the old romances, we are gravely in-
formed, that the unfortunate knight in the dungeon
of some giant, or fascinated by some witch or en-
chanter, while he sees nothing but hideousness and
horror before him, if haply a fairy, or some other
benignant being, impart a talisman of wondrous
virtue, on a sudden our disconsolate prisoner finds
himself in a magnificent palace, or a beautiful gar-
den, in the bower of beauty, or in the arms of love.
This wild fable, which abounds in the legends of
knight-errantry, has always appeared to me very
finely to shadow out the enchantment of study. A
book produces a delightful abstraction from the
cares and sorrows of this world. They may press
upon us, but when we are engrossed by study we
do not very acutely feel them. Nay, by the magic
illusion of a fascinating author, we are transported
from the couch of anguish, or the gripe of indigence,
to Milton's paradise, or the elysium of Virgil.

ON MEDITATION.

"Commune with your own heiu-t upon your bed, and be
still.1' — Psalms iv. 4.

Having, in my last speculation, attempted to de-
scribe some of the delights of study, in this paper it
is proposed to consider the true use of retirement.
Between them there should be a perpetual alliance:
nay, they are not only neighbouring and friendly
powers, but they are familiar connexions. Amiable,
interesting, and lovely sisters ! if your worthy ad-
mirer be attracted by the riches of one, he will
quickly be delighted witli the pensiveness 'of the
other. Study will give him all her books, and re-
tirement conduct him to all her bowers. In no
ramble will he experience more delight than when
he roves through the healthful wood, or saunters
through the tranquil cloister, with retirement on his
right hand, and study on his left. Though their
guise is exceedingly modest, though their conversa-
tion has no resemblance to loquacity, though their
best attire is from no other wardrobe than that of
sweet simplicity, still they will always gain more
regard from the wiser than all the pageants of the
pompous, and all the plumage of the vain.

The royal psalmist, from whose divine odes I have
transcribed my text, was himself a memorable ex-
ample of the utility of retirement, reflection, and
self-communion. It will be remembered that he
was a warrior, a statesman, a man of business, and
a man of the world. In these various characters,
though he often acquitted himself excellently well,
yet unfortunately, in some flagrant instances, we
perceive how much he was tainted by the infection
of the world. But when he shuts his eyes against
the glare of ambition, and the gaze of beauty, when
he ceases to touch the harp of fascination, and for-

566

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

eakes the cabinet and the camp, then we recognise,
at once, the scholar, the philosopher, and the poet.
In the strong-holds at En-gedi, he is a mere soldier;
in the palace of Saul, a servile musician ; in the
cave of Adullam, a skulking fugitive ; and in the
forest of Hareth, an unhappy exile. But when he
tore himself away from the thraldom of care, the
bustle of business, and the din of Jerusalem, when
he wandered away by the brook of the field, or the
plains of the wilderness, when he retired to his
chamber, and communed with his heart, then he
formed those noble associations, and composed those
exquisite performances, which will transmit his name
with renown to the remotest posterity.

My Lord Bacon, Sir Walter Raleigh, Erasmus,
Grotius, Mr. Addison, and Mr. Locke, together witli
a great multitude of illustrious men, have been
deeply involved in the cares of public business, as
well as engrossed by the meditations of the closet.
But for the fairest portion of their glorious fame
how much are they indebted to the latter! While
the chancery decrees of Sir Francis Bacon moulder
away in the hands of some master of the rolls, the
experiments of his study, and the essays of his wit,
like certain exquisite paintings, grow brighter by
time. While we peruse, with still renewing plea-
sure, Raleigh's history of the world, his unlucky po-
litics are scarcely regarded. Mr. Addison was secre-
tary of state, and Grotius an ambassador; but who
inquires for the despatches of the one, or is interested
in the negociations of the other ? The fame of Eras-
mus, constantly immersed in the turmoil of his
times, and engrossed by cares, civil and ecclesiastic,
would have perished with the names of those mise-
rable monks whom lie has derided, or those imperi-
ous princes whom he has courted. But by some-
times wisely withdrawing himself from the cabals
of a court, and the polemics of the church, by medi-
tating on horseback and in his chamber, by avarice
of time, by intenseness of application and ardour of
genius, he has filled ten folios, composed in the
purest Latinity, where an indolent reader can find
nothing too prolix, and where a critical reader can
discover nothing to reprehend. The foolish polities
of Addison are scarcely remembered even by his
faction. The character of Locke, as a man of busi-
ness, is painted with no other pencils than those of
ridicule, and the diplomacy of Grotius and of Sir
AVilliam Temple are utterly contemned; but their
literary and philosophical works, the beauteous off-
spring of retirement and study, will continue to
charm,

'Till time, like him of Gaza, in his wrath,
Plucking the pillars that support the world,
In nature's ample ruins lies entombed,
And midnight, universal midnight, reigns.

Though in the text we are admonished to com-
mune with ourselves in our chamber, yet it woidd
be a very partial and narrow interpretation, if it
were concluded that we could not meditate any
where else. The secresy of a closet, and the still-
ness of midnight, are, unquestionably, propitious to
the powers of reflection. But other places and
other seasons may be selected for that salutary dis-
cipline, which the Psalmist recommends. It is a
vulgar error to suppose that retirement and con-
templation are never to be found except in a forest
or a desert, a cell or a cloister. In the thronged
mart, and in the blaze of day, he who has inured
himself to habits of abstraction, may commune with
himself, as though he was in his chamber. Proofs
of this abound in many a page of the records of lite-
rature. Some of the fairest displays of self-know-
ledge] some of the finest results of meditation, some

of the sweetest fruits of retirement, owed their ap-
pearance not to the tranquillity of sylvan groves.
In many a metropolis, resounding with the din of
commerce, and crowded with the throng of nations,
contemplation has had her fill. Though a sublime
poet, in a fit of rural enthusiasm, has exclaimed,
Hide me from daifs garish eye,

yet it would be alike dangerous and delusive to be-
lieve, that we cannot speculate at noon, as well as
at night. In short, the choice of time or place is not
essential to the formation of habits of self-sequestra-
tion, and the acquisition of the precious power of
withdrawing the mind from all external objects.

As, in Dr. Johnson's phrase, I am often wakefully
disturbed at midnight, arid as I have not wholly for-
gotten my boyish attachment to woods and mea-
dows, I acknowledge that I often commune with
myself in my chamber ; and, in genial seasons, by
the banks of a romantic river, or in the recesses of a
lonely forest. I have already speculated twice on
the profit and pleasure producible by nocturnal
hours wisely emplo3'ed, and rural rambles judi-
ciously directed. But for a period of no inconsider-
able duration I have often retired to rest at a vulgar
hour, and have wholly exchanged the country for
the city. Change of circumstances demanded new
habits. Though but seldom I wind slowly o'er the
lea ; though the glimmering landscape but rarely
fades before my sight ; and my ears generally listen
to other sounds than the drowsy liriklings of a shep-
herd's bell, yet if. is my duty to reflect much even
in the midst of confusion. Accordingly I commune
with my own heart in the crowd, and can be still
even in the street. I sermonize in the suburbs, and
find apt alliteration in an alley. I start a topic in
High street, and hunt it down as far as Southwark
or the Northern Liberties. I walk through the
market-place, as I once wandered in a wood ; and
while one is talking of his farm, and another of his
merchandise, I listen to the suggestions of fancy, or
invoke the cherub contemplation.

But, to return to a more rigorous exposition of
the text, and consider it merely as an exhortation to
the tranquil exercise of our mental powers in the
retirement of the closet, I do not know whether in
the pages of any philosopher I could find a better
lesson of salutary discipline. It is favourable to the
culture of intellectual as well as moral habits. He
who accustoms himself to closet meditations will
not only purify his heart but correct his judgment,
form his taste, exercise his memory, and regulate his
imagination. Moreover, he then has an admirable
opportunity to view the world at a due distance, to I
form a deliberate estimate of life, to calculate with
precision the proportion of his own powers, com-
bined with those of other men ; and having weighed
himself, as it were, in the " balance of the sanc-
tuary," to find new causes for regret, and new rea-
sons for reformation.

To multitudes, solitude, retirement, and reflec-
tion appear in a form more horrid than the weird
sisters in Shakspeare. The man of business, the
man of pleasure, the votary of vanity, and the vic-
tim of lassitude, all sedulously shun those hours
wdiich have been so nobly employed by philoso-
phers, poets, hermits, and saints. Dr. Young, who
has immortalized his self-communion, in one of the
most original poems in our language, a poem not
only of gorgeous metaphors, but of the most ardent
piety, exclaims, with more than mortal enthusiasm —

Oh, lost to virtue, lost to manly thought,
Lost to th* noblfst sallies of the soul f
"Who think it solitude to be alone,
Communion sweet I communion large and high!
Our reason, guardian angel, aad our God !

JOSEPH DENNIE.

567

INGRATITUDE OP REPUBLICS.

" For the workman is worthy of his meat." — Matt. x. 10.

If there be such a personage as Truth, this asser-
tion certainly belongs to her family, for what can.
be more just than that a vintager should eat some,
at least, of those grapes which he had planted and
watered.

But judging from the practice of the world, at the
present time, one would think my text was grown
obsolete, and that its principle was not recognised.
In the shambles there is always meat enough, but
how little is bestowed upon workmen. Parasites,
buffoons, fiddlers, equestrians, French philosophers,
and speculators gormandize; bat I see Merit, that
excellent workman, that needetli not to be ashamed,
as lank and as lean as my old tabby-cat, who has had
nothing to eat but church mice for a year.

Though I am not saluted a brother by any legiti-
mate parson, and belong to no ministerial associa-
tion on earth, yet I cherish great respect, and feel a
cordial regard for the established clergy. I con-
sider them, with few exceptions, as faithful work-
men; they make us moral ; they instruct our youth;
they lead sober and peaceable lives.

Along the cool, Sequestered vale of life,
They keep the noiseless tenor of their way.

They are wise, they are amiable men, though thev
are ignorant of foolish questions, and "strivings
about the law;" they understand perfectly the great
rules of life. Such men, therefore, are worthy of
their meat, and should be liberally provided. They
labour much : few men labour more ; they are com-
pelled to exercise not oidy the head but the hands.
The pi'ivate estate, as well as the gospel vineyard,
claims their care. When the drudgery of the year
is done; when numerous sermons have been com-
posed, and numerous sick-chambers visited ; when
they have been in watchiugs and weariness often,
what meat will the benevolence of a parish bestow?
Verily, a morsel. A beggarly pittance, called a sa-
lary, and that pittance scantily and grudgingly paid.
When I visit a village, covered with stores and
shops, and cultivated by opulent farmers ; when I
hear the inhabitants boast of their flourishing cir-
cumstances, and recount how many bushels of wheat
they threshed last year, and how well it sold ; if I
should be informed that their parson's annual sti-

Eend is but sixty pounds, in despite of all their
oasted riches and ostentation, I should think them
unworthy to enter a church.

If I should repair to any place where men con-
gregate, and describe to them one, who, in an hour
of jeopardy, had quitted his hearth, travelled many
wearisome miles, been exposed to sickly air, been
shot at for hours, and frequently without a crust or
a draught to supply the waste of nature. If I
Bhould add, that all this peril was sustained, that
we, at home, might live in security, not one of my
audience, provided speculators and bloodsuckers
were not of the number, would deny that the old
soldier, was a worthy workman. But where is his
meat ? Oh, my good sir, do not propose that ques-
tion in a republic, you know that a republic is never
bounteous. Belisariuses ask for their obolus here
as well as at Rome. But here the business ends.
They receive in Great Britain and elsewhere. You
might as soon expect moderation in a Frenchman,
or knowledge of the belles-lettres in a country attor-
ney, as that a commonwealth should be grateful

on cleanliness.

" Let thy garments he always white ; and let thy head lack no
ointment." — Eccl. ix. 8.

Though much occupied in preaching, and noted,
S3 some of my friends say, for a certain poetical

heedlessness of character, yet, if not oftener, at least
every Sunday, I copy the common custom, and in-
vest my little person in clean array. As, from a
variety of motives, and none of them, I hope, bad
ones, I go with some degree of constancy to church,
I choose to appear there decently and in order.
However inattentive through the week, on the so-
lemn day I brush with more than ordinary pains
my best coat, am watchful of the purity of my linen,
and adjust my cravat with an old bachelor's nicety.
While I was lately busied at 1113' toilet, in the work
of persoTial decoration, it popped into my head that
a sermon in praise of neatness would do good ser-
vice, if not to the world at large, at least to many
of my reading, writing, and thinking brethren, who
make their assiduous homage to mind a pretext for
negligence of person.

Among the minor virtues, cleanliness ought to be
conspicuously ranked ; and, in the common topics
of praise, we generally arrange some commendation
of neatness. It involves much. It supposes a love
of order, an attention to the laws of custom, and a
decent pride. My Lord Bacon says that a good
person is a perpetual letter of recommendation.
This idea may be extended. Of a well-dressed man,
it may be affirmed, that he has a sure passport
through the realms of civility. In first interviews
we can judge of no one except from appearances.
He, therefore, whose exterior is agreeable, begins
well in any society. Men and women are disposed
to augur favourably, rather than otherwise, of him
who manifests, by the purity and propriety of his
garb, a disposition to comply and to please. As, in
rhetoric, a judicious exordium is of admirable use to
render an audience docile, attentive, and benevo-
lent, so at your introduction into good company,
clean and modish apparel is, though an humble, at
least a serviceable herald of our exertions.

As these are very obvious truths, and as literary
men are generally vain, and sometimes proud, it is
singular that one of the easiest modes of gratifying
self-complacency should, by them, be, for the most
part, neglected ; and that this sort of carelessness is
so adhesive to one tribe of writers, that the word3
poet and sloven are regarded as synonymous in the
world's vocabulary.

This negligence in men of letters sometimes arises
from their inordinate application to book's and pa-
pers, and may be palliated by a good-natured man,
as the natural product of a mind too intensely en-
gaged in sublime speculations to attend to the black-
ness of a shoe or the whiteness of a ruffle. Mr. Locke
and Sir Isaac Newton might be forgiven by their
candid eotemporaries, though the first had composed
his essay with " unwashen hands," and the second
had investigated the laws of nature when he was
clad in a soiled night-gown. But slovenliness is
often affected by authors, or rather pretenders to
authorship ; and must then be considered as highly
culpable ; as an outrage of decorum, as a defiance
to the world, and as a pitiful scheme to attract no-
tice by means which are equally in the power of
the drayman and chimneysweeper. I know a poet
of this description, who anticipates renown no less
from a dirty shirt than from an elegant couplet,
and imagines that when his appearance is the most
sordid the world must conclude, of course, that his
mind is splendid and fair. In his opinion, " marvel-
lous foul linen" is a token of wit. and inky fingers
indicate humour ; he avers that a slouched hat is
demonstrative of a well-stored brain, and that genius
always trudges about in unbuckled shoes. He looks
for invention in rumpled ruffles, and finds high-
sounding poetry among the folds of a loose stocking.
But this smirched son of Apollo may be assured

568

CYCLOPiEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

there is no necessary connexion between dirt and
ability. It is not necessary to consummate such a
marriage to produce the fairest offspring of the
mind. One may write brilliantly, and, strange as it
may seem, be dressed well. If negligence be the
criterion of genius, a critic will, in future, inspect a
poet's wardrobe rather than his works. Slovenli-
ness, 60 far from being conimejidable in an author,
is more inexcusable in men of letters than in many
others, the nature of whose employment compels
them to be conversant with objeets sordid and im-
pure. A smith from lii6 forge, or a husbandman
from his fields, is obliged sometimes to appear stained
with the smut of the one or the dust of the other.
A writer, on the contrary, sitting in an easy chair
at a polished desk, and leaning on white paper, or
examining the pages of a book, is, by no means,
obliged to be soiled by his labours. I see no reason
why an author should not be a gentleman, or at
least as clean and neat as a Quaker. Far from
thinking that filthy dress marks a liberal mind, I
should suspect the good sense and talents of him
who affected to wear a tattered coat as the badge
of his profession. Should I see a reputed genius to-
tally regardless of his person, I should immediately
doubt the delicacy of his taste and the accuracy of
his judgment. I should conclude there was some
obliquity in his mind, a dull sense of decorum, and
a disregard of order. I should fancy that he eon-
sorted with low society ; and, instead of claiming
the privilege of genius, to knock and be admitted at
palaces, that he chose to sneak in at the back door
of hovels, and wallow brutishly in the sty of the
vulgar.

It is recorded of Somerville and Shenstone that
they were negligent, and of Smith that he was a
sloven. But disregard of dress is by no means a
constant trait in the literary character. Edmund
Waller, Prior, Swift, and Bolingbroke, were re-
markably neat in their persons, and curious in the
choice of apparel ; and of David Mallett, Dr. John-
son observes " that his appearance was agreeable,
and he suffered it to want no recommendation that
dress could give."

The Orientals are careful of their persons, with
much care. Their frequent ablutions and cliangeof
garments are noticed in every page of their history.
My text is not the only precept of neatness that can
be quoted from the Bible. The wise men of the
East supposed there was some analogy between the
purity of the body and the mind ; nor is this a vain
imagination.

I cannot conclude this sermon better than by an
extract from the works of Count Rumford, who, in
few and strong words, has fortified my doctrine : —
" "With what care and attention do the feathered
race wash themselves and put their plumage in or-
der ; and how perfectly neat, clean, and elegant do
they ever appear. Among the beasts of the field,
we find that those which are the most cleanly are
generally the most gay and cheerful, or are distin-
guished by a certain air of tranquillity and content-
ment; and singing-birds are always remarkable for
the neatness of their plumage. So great is the effect
of cleanliness upon man that it extends even to his
moral character. Virtue never dwelt long with
filth ; nor do I believe there ever was a person scru-
pulously attentive to cleanliness who was a consum-
mate villain."

DAVID EVERETT,
Oite of the band of accomplished contributors to
the Farmer's Museum, and a political editor him-
self of note, was born in 1769 at Princeton,

Massachusetts. He fitted himself for Dartmouth
College, and is on the list of graduates for the
year 1795, when he delivered a valedictory
Poem, with this generous prophecy of the growth
of the country : —

The Muse prophetic views the coming day,
■When federal laws beyond the line shall sway :
Where Spanish indolence inactive lies,
And every art and every virtue dies ;
Where pride and avarice their empire hold,
Ignobly great, and poor amid their gold, —
Columbia's genius shall the mind inspire,
And fill each breast with patriotic fire.
Nor east nor western oceans shall confine
The generous flame that dignifies the mind;
O'er all the earth shall Freedom's banner wave,
The tyrant blast and liberate the slave :
Plenty and peace shall spread from pole to pole,
Till earth's grand family possess one soul.*

Previously to entering college, he was a teach-
er in the grammar-school at- New Ipswich, where
he wrote the famous juvenile schoolboy recita-
tion for one of his pupils, Ephraim Farrar, which
has been made so well known to the public in
Bingham'sf Columbian Orator : —

LINES BPOKES AT A SCHOOL EXHIBITION, BY A LITTLE BOY
SEVEN YEAES OLD.

You'd scarce expect one of my age

To speak in public on the stage ;

And if I chance to fall below

Demosthenes or Cicero,

Don't view me with a critic's eye,

But pass my imperfections by.

Large streams from little fountains flow ;

Tall oaks from little acorns grow ;

And though I now am small and young,

Of judgment weak and feeble to;igue,

Yet all great learned men, like me,

Once learned to read their A, B, C.

But why may not Columbia's soil

Bear men as great as Britain's isle ? —

Exceed what Greece and Rome have done? —

Or any land beneath the sun ?

Mayn't Massachusetts boast as great

As any other sister State ?

Or where's the town, go far and near,

That does not find a rival here ?

Or where's the boy but three feet high

Who's made improvement more than I ?

These thoughts inspire my. youthful mind

To be the greatest of mankind :

Great, not like Caesar, stained with blood,

But only great as I am good.}:

Everett studied law in Boston, and wrote for
Russell's Gazette and other newspapers, including

* Loring's " Hundred Boston Orators."
■ + Caleb Bingham, the compiler of this production, almost as
well known, in its way, as Webster's Spelling: Book, was a
school teacher, and afterwards a bookseller of Boston, and had
been a graduate of Dartmouth in 17S2. As a director of the
State prison, he interested himself in tbe instruction of the
younger criminals. He was a Jeffersonian in politics. His
school books were, besides the Columbian Orator, the Ameri-
can Preceptor, a book of selections for reading, Young Lady's
Accidence. He also wrote a narrative entitled The Hunters,
tie died in 1S17, at the age of sixty. — Allen's Biog. Diet.

$ Mr. Loring, in his Boston Orators, gives an account of Far-
rar, the original speaker of the lines, and quotes some remarks
by Edward Everett, at a High School Examination, at Cam-
bridge, July 23, 1S50, in which he alludes to this '"favorite lit-
tle poem, which many persons have done me the honor to
ascribe to me, but which was in reality written by a distant
relative and namesake of mine, and, if I mistake not, before I
was born."

SAMUEL MILLER.

569

the Farmer's Museum, then under the manage-
ment of Deunie, where his prose papers, Common
Sense in Dishabille, became quite popular. They
were of an epigrammatic turn, employed chiefly
with utilitarian remarks on frugality and tempe-
rance, in the manner of Franklin, and were col-
lected in 1799 in a small volume. The same
year was also published, from the same source,
his Farmer's Monitor. He contributed also to a
literary paper called the Nightingale in 1796.

Everett wrote a tragedy called Daranzel, or
the Persian Patriot, which was acted and pub-
lished at Boston in 1800. It is called, on the title-
page, "an original drama," and, to the author's
name, i-i added, " corrected and improved by a
literary friend." Original it was, in reference to
the productions then, as now, taken from foreign
authors for the American stage ; but its composi-
tion belongs to a large class of English produc-
tions, happily long since antiquated. Any one
who turns over the dramatic writings of the
eighteenth century, will meet with abundance of
such Oroastos, Indamoras, and Zaphiras as figure
in this piece: such stratagems, prisons, and
despair —

Where Melancholy cannot count her sighs,
And sorrow keeps no calendar but tears.

Act v. so. i.

Judged, however, by its own literary fashion, it
is not without its moderate elegances and proprie-
ties. A few lines of the Prologue will show its
scope, and its appeal to American patriotism : —

"While in the court the supple pander shines,
And cheerless virtue in the dungeon pines ;
The elder world's disasters rise to view,
To foil the stubborn virtues of the new :
While these in contrast on the stage appear, —
There the proud despot — the firm patriot here ;
That rob'd in power, this arm'd with nature's laws:
From scenes like these the bard his moral draws. '

In the Prologue also, the author himself ap-
pears, to ask that indulgence from the public, and
that deprecation of the critic's eye which his lit-
tle pupils and their descendants have so often
supplicated from more indulgent circles of family
friends : —

To captious critics, versed in scenic laws,
He dares not trust the merits of his cause.
View then, ye lib'ral, with a candid eye,
Kill not the bird that first attempts to fly ;
But aid his efforts with parental care,
'Till his weak pinions learn to ply the air :
'Till the young pupil dare aloft to rise,
And soar, with bolder flights, his native skies.

In 1801, Everett delivered a Fourth of July
Oration at Amherst, and in September, a Masonic
Oration, at Washington, N. II. In 1809 he
edited the Boston Patriot, and in 1812 The Pilot,
a paper in the interest of De Witt Clinton for the
presidency. He wrote a series of papera on the
Apocalypse, which were published in a pamphlet-
He left Boston in 1813 for Marietta, Ohio, with
the purpose of establishing a newspaper, but
death interrupted his plans at that place, Dec.
21, of the same year.*

* Kartell's American Poetry, ii. 113; Buckingham's News-
paper Literature, ii. 212; Loiing's Hundred Boston Orators.
3ded.8«.

SAMUEL MILLEE,
TnE author of the Retrospect of the Eighteenth
Century, a work still valued for its taste, j udg-
ment, and fidelity, was born in 1769 in the town
of Dover in Delaware, the son of a Scottish cler-
gyman, who passed forty-three years of ministe-
rial duty in that place, one among the many ex-
amples of sound literary and family influence ra-
diating from the old American pulpit.

^yCoryu^ul yi/jMn^

The life of Samuel Miller was passed in pasto-
ral duties as a Presbyterian clergyman in New
York, which he discharged for twenty years from
1793, and as Professor of Ecclesiastical History
and Church Government in the Theological Semi-
nary of Princeton, to which he was called in 1813,
and which he held for thirty-six years, till his
decease Jan. 7, 1850. During this period of edu-
cational service he was contemporary in the insti-
tution with the sincere and amiable Alexander,
wdiose son, in the recently published memoirs of
his father, has paid a generous tribute to his me-
mory. " Dr. Miller," says he, " came from the
training of city life, and from an eminently
polished and literary circle. Of fine person and
courtly manners, he set a high value on all that
makes society dignified and attractive. He was
pre-eminently a man of system and method, go-
verning himself, even in the minutest particulars,
by exact rule. His daily exercise was measured
to the moment ; and for half a century he wroto
standing. He was a gentleman of the old school,
though as easy as he was noble in his bearing;
full of conversation, brilliant in company, rich in
anecdote, and universally admired. As a preacher
he was clear without brilliancy, accustomed to
laborious and critical preparation, relying little on
the excitement of the occasion, but rapid with
his pen, and gifted with a tenacious memory and
a strong sonorous voice; always instructive, al-
ways calm, always accurate."*

Miller's Brief Retrospect of the Eighteenth
Century, containing a Sketch of the Revolutions
and Improvements in Science, Arts, and Literature
during that period, was published in two volumes
in 1803. It was executed with care and in a ju-
dicious spirit, enhanced by its pleasing style. Its
survey of the progress of the intellectual elements
of society was full and fair for the period, and
may still be consulted with profit and pleasure.
The portion devoted to the early American litera-
ture, the scholars and men of letters who promot-
ed the education of the infant state, is in a spirit
which all succeeding writers who traverse the
ground may bo emulous of. It is thoughtful, pa-
triotic, and sincere. This work originally grew
out of a pastoral discourse delivered by the author
on the first day of the new century, and was dedi-
cated to John Dickinson, the author of the Far-
mer's Letters. It includes the consideration of
the mechanical sciences, chemistry, medicine,

* Life of Archibald Alexander, p. 380.

570

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

mathematics and some of its applications, the
fine arts, and a liberal discussion of literature in
its several departments of original composition,
and in the advancement and study of the ancient
and oriental and of the European languages. This
formed but the first part of a contemplated work,
the other three portions of which were to embrace
Theology, Morals, and Religion, and to present
" the great events in the Christian Church, in the
Moral World, and in Political Principles and Esta-
blishments during the century," a comprehensive
design which the author never carried out.

From 1805 to 1814 Dr. Millerwas Correspond-
ing Secretary to the New York Historical So-
ciety. He delivered before that body, A Dis-
course designed to Commemorate the Discovery
of New Tori, September 4, 18U9, being the com-
pletion of the second century since that event*

In 1813 he published in an octavo volume of
more than four hundred pages the Memoirs of his
associate the Rev. Dr. John Rodgers, pastor of
the Wall street and Brick Churches in New York.t
It contains a narrative of the growth of the Pres-
byterian Church in New York, with much histo-
rical information of general interest expressed
with elegance of style. Of the learning of the
old school of clergymen in the country he says : —

Many persons are apt to suppose that the race of
divines who flourished in our country seventy or
eighty years ago, though pious and excellent men,
hnd a very scanty' supply of books, and in many
eases a still more scanty education, compared with
the divines of later years, and especially of the pre-
sent day. This opinion i3 not only erroneous but
grossly so. Those venerable fathers of the Ameri-
can Church were more deeply learned than most of
their sons. They read more, and thought more,
than we are ready to imagine. The greater part of
the books of ancient learning and ponderous erudi-
tion, which are now to be found on this side of the
Atlantic, were imported and studied by those great
and good men. Original works are actually in fewer
hands, in our day, compared with the number of
readers, than in theirs. They read solidly and
deeply : we hurry over eompends and indexes.
They studied systematically as veil as extensively ;
our reading is more desultory, as well as more super-
ficial. We have more of the belles-lettres polish,
but as biblical critics, and as profound theologians,
we must undoubtedly yield to them the palm of ex-
cellence.

This is well said in reference to the labors of
the old American fathers. It should be remem-
bered that it was written in 1813, and that Dr.
Miller lived to -ee a new, thorough, and profound
course of theological study established in the
country.

In 1827 he published Letters on Clerical Man-
ners and Habits ; addressed to a Student in the

* Colls. N. T. Hist Soc. vol. i.

+ John Eodgers, "whose name is remembered with great re-
spect in New York, was a native of Boston. Mass., born in 1727,
of Irish parentage. He was a disciple of Wbitefield asayouth,
and was educated at the Academy of the Eev. Samuel Blair
at Fog's Manor in Chester county, Pa. He was with Davies
the preacher (afterwards President of Princeton) in Virginia.
He came to New York in 1765. His degree of Doctor of Divi-
nity was conferred by the University of Edinburgh, through
the agency of three distinguished persons. Whitcfield sug-

fested the matter to Franklin, who obtained the favor through
)r. Eobertson. Iu the Eevolutionary war he was a correspon-
dent of Washington. He died in New York, May 7, 1611, in
bis eighty-fourth year.

Tlieological Seminary at Princeton; in which
he reviews the various positions of the clergyman ;
in his study, in society, his mode of writing,
thinking, and conversation; in the economy of
health, usefulness, reputation, and the preserva-
I tion of a sound, judicious piety.

In 1840 Dr. Miller published his Memoir of the
Item. Charles Nisbet* the first President of Dick-
inson College, whose acquaintance he had made
in 1791, when he visited him at Carlisle to seek
the opportunity of hearing his course of Theolo-
gical Lectures, a genial specimen of biography,
with much interest in the copious and interesting
original material.

Edward Miller, the brother of the preceding,
was born at Dover May 9, 1760. He was educat-
ed at the Academy at Newark in Delaware, con-
ducted with eminent ability by two clergymen,
Doctor Francis Allison and Alexander McDowell.
He studied medicine at Dover with Dr. Charles
Ridgely, and afterwards in 1781-2 in the Military
hospital at Baskingridge, New Jersey. In the
last year he embarked as surgeon in an armed
ship bound for France, and in a year's absence
acquired a knowledge of the French language.
He returned to pursue his profession in Delaware,
and in 1796 became a practitioner of medicine in
New York, where he engaged with Dr. Mitchill
and Dr. Elihu H. Smith in the publication of the
first journal of the kind ever printed in the coun-
try, the Medical Repository, commenced in 1797.
Its conductors were members of a "Friendly
Club," which was a nucleus at its weekly recep-
tions for the intellect of the city. Dunlap, who
wrote an account of Miller,* has left a record of
tins social circle in New York, which also includ-
ed, besides himself then Manager of the New
York Theatre, James Kent then Recorder of the
city, Anthony Bleecker the lawyer and master in
chancery, Charles Brockden Brown, William
Walton Woolsey, George Muirson Woolsey, John
Wells the lawyer, William Johnson the Supreme
Court reporter, and the Rev. Dr. Samuel Miller.

Edward Miller died March 17, 1812.

His writings on medical topics, including his
report on the yellow fever, were published in a
volume. His medical reputation stood high, and
his literary and social qualities endeared him to
his friends.

DE WITT CLINTON.

TriE name of Clinton has long been eminent in
the annals of New York. George Clinton was
the governor of the province from 1743 to 1753,
and the name of his son, Sir Henry Clinton, is
familiar to every reader of the history of the
American Revolution.

These were, however, but distantly related to
the family with whom we are concerned. The
first who is mentioned of the direct ancestors of
De Witt Clinton was William Clinton, an officer
in the army of Charles the First. After the exe-
cution of that monarch he took refuge in the
north of Ireland, where he died, leaving an orphan
son, James, only two years of age.

* Memoir of the Eev. Charles Nisbet, D.D., late President
of Dickinson College, Carlisle. New York : Carter. 12mo.
pp. 857.

t The Monthly Eecorder, New York, April, 1818.

BE WITT CLINTON.

571

His son, on arriving at man's estate, visited
England for the purpose of endeavoring to re-
cover his patrimony, which had been confiscated.
He failed in this, bat was successful in a suit of
a matrimonial nature, as he returned home with
a bride, Elizabeth, the daughter of a Captain
Smith, formerly of Cromwell's army. Their son
Charle-i, born in 1690, organized in 1729 a large
body of emigrants, and sailed with them for Ame-
rica. They landed at Cape Cod. In 1731 Clin-
ton purchased land in Ulster county, eight miles
west of the Hudson, and built a house surrounded
by a palisade to protect himself from the Indians.
Here he resided until his death, November 19,
1773. He left four sons, Alexander, Charles,
James, a brigadier-general in the Revolutionary
army, who died in 1812, and George, also a bri-
gadier-general in the army, and Governor of the
State of New York, from the formation of the
constitution in 1777 to 1795, and afterwards from
1801 to 1804. He wa^ elected Vice-President
of the United States in 1804, and died in that
office, 1812.

De Witt Clinton, the son of General James Clin-
ton and Mary De Witt, was born March 2, 1769,
at his fathers residence in Orange county, N. Y.
He was prepared for college at the academy un-
der the charge of Mr. John Addison at Kingston,
almost the only school of eminence open in the
state during the Revolution, entered the junior
class of Columbia College in 1784, and was the
first student received by that institution under its
new organization after the war. He was one of
the graduating class in 1786. Clinton studied
law with Samuel Jones, and was admitted to the
bar. He was shortly after appointed private se-
cretary of his uncle, George Clinton, the governor
of the state, and retained the office until a change
of administration in 1795.

In 1797 he was elected a member of the house
of assembly, in 1798 a state senator, and in 1801
a Senator of the United States. In 1S03 he was
chosen Mayor of the City of New York, and,
with a single exception, annually re-elected until
1S15. In 1817 he was elected Governor of the
State of New York, and re-elected in 1820. In
1822 ho declined again appearing as a candidate.

In 1823, after the celebration at Albany of the
completion- of the great work with which his
name is inseparably identified, ho was removed
from the office of canal commissioner. This un-
just and absurd proceeding aroused the feelings
of the people of the state so warmly in his favor
that he was elected governor of the state in 1824
by a majority of 20,000. He remained in office
until his sudden death, February 11, 1828.

Clinton was an active promoter of the free-
school and other great educational movements of
the state. He was also an influential member of
the literary and scientific, associations of his time,
and a liberal promoter of the charitable institu-
tions of the state and city. His occasional ad-
drosses before these institutions constitute Ins
chief literary labors.

Clinton was Vice-President of the New York
Historical Society from 1810 to 1817, and Presi-
dent from 1817 to 1820. He was always a great
promoter of its interests. In 1811 he delivered
his elaborate Discourse on the Iroquois, at an an-
hiversary meeting of that body. In 1S14 he drew

I up a memorial to the legislature in its behalf, in
which he classified the history of the state under
four periods: of the aborigines, the Dutch occu-
pancy for about half a century, the English rule
for more than a century, and the period since the
Revolution, showing the measures necessary to
be taken at each stage for the preservation of the
national records. A grant was received in con-
sequence from the legislature, which secured to
the society means for the purchase of a large por-
tion of its valuable library.

In the same year, 1814, he delivered his Intro-
ductory Discourse before the Literary and Philo-
sophical Society of New York, of which he was
president. It is an exhaustive scholar's review of
the pa-t and present state of literature and science,
describing the impediments to their cultivation in
the colony of New York under the general provin-
cial influences, the population speaking a foreign
language for a time ; the confusion of the Revo-
lution; the evils of party spirit afterwards, with
the absence, in consequence of the industrial de-
mands of the state, of a literary class by profes-
sion : while he finds new advantages in the free-
dom of the state, the growth of commerce, and a
perpetual incentive to the excitement of genius in
the pure and healthful climate. From these reflec-
tions he passes to the consideration of the pecu-
liar objects of the Society, presenting the claims
and opportunities of the studies of geology, zo-
ology, botany; agriculture, and medicine. The
notes and illustrations, which constitute three
times the bulk of the text, are a repository of in-
teresting and profitable reading on these various
themes. In these matters Clinton was in earnest ;
and when the wags of the day, who opposed his
politics, mixed up his literature and science with
their ridicule, he showed that he was master of
these lighter weapons as well. The satirists, who
amused themselves with his grave, philosophical
pursuits, were made to feel the edge of his wit
and pleasantry.

In 1820 Clinton sketched the incidents of a
tour to the west, along the line of the Erie canal,
in a series of letters written in the character of
an Irish gentleman travelling in America, which
were published in the New York Statesman, and
afterwards collected in a volume, in 1822, with
the title, letters on the Natural History and In-
ternal Resources of the State of New York. They
present a curious picture of the novel topics of in-
terest at this recent period, in what is now,
thanks to such laborers as Clinton, so well de-
veloped and thoroughly familiar a region. The
freshness of his fancy, and activity of his mind,
give a zest to his minute observations of natural
scenery, climate, and productions, constantly en-
livened by his ardent nationality, and taste for
poetic and literary cultivation. The Letters of
Ilibernicus are genial and animated throughout,
and well deserve to be annotated, and find a
home, which would have been a consummation
of the author's literary ambition, in the thousands
of school-district libraries which now adorn his
native state.

The Hon. W. W. Campbell has reprinted, in the
Life and Writings of Clinton, his private journal
of his exploration in 1810, in company with other
commissioners, of the central portion of the state
with reference to the proposed Erie canal. It is

572

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

a pleasant off-hand record, and gives a curious
picture of the primitive days of Western New
York. This was one of his first public services
in reference to this great state enterprise, pro-
nounced by President Madison too great an un-
dertaking for the resources of the entire Union to
accomplish. Clinton had faith then and ever in
its feasibility and advantages. He continued its
firmrand active promoter and friend until he
passed in triumph down its entire length, and
poured the waters of Erie into the Atlantic ocean.

Clinton was twice married. His first wife was
Maria, eldest daughter of Walter Franklin ; and
his second Catharine, daughter of Dr. Thomas
Jones, "all of this city." In 1853 a noble colos-
sal statue of bronze, modelled and cast by II. K.
Browne, was placed by a public subscription over
his remains in Greenwood Cemetery.

In person Governor Clinton was over six feet
in height, and well proportioned. His counte-
nance displayed an ample forehead, regular fea-
tures, and an amiable and dignified expression.
As a public speaker he was impressive, but not
animated.*

PROVINCIAL INFLUENCES ON LITERATURE — FROM THE DISCOURSE
BEFORE THE LITERARY AND 1'IIILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY.

There is something in the nature of provincial
government which tends to engender faction, and to
prevent the expansion of intellect. It inevitably
creates two distinct interests; one regarding the
colony as subservient in every respect to the mother
country, and the other rising up in opposition to this
assumption. The governor and principal magistrates
who derive their appointments from an extrinsic
source, feel independent of the people over whom
they are placed. The operation of this principle has
been powerfully experienced in our territorial go-
vernments, which have been the constant theatre of
intestine divisions; and when the human mind is
called away from the interest of science, to aid, by
its faculties, the agitations of party, little can be ex-
pected from energies thus perverted and abused. The
annals of our colonial state present a continual con-
troversy between the ministers of the crown, and the
representatives of the people. What did the governor
and judges care for a country wdiere they were
strangers? where their continuance wras transient;
and to which they were attached by no tie that
reaches the human heart. Their offices emanated
from another country ; — to that source they looked
for patronage and support, to that alone their views
extended ; and having got, what Archimedes wanted,
another world on which to erect their engines, they
governed this at pleasure.

The colonial governors were, generally speaking,
little entitled to respect. They were delegated to
this country not as men qualified to govern, but as
men whose wants drove them into exile ; not as men
entitled by merit to their high eminence, but as men
who owed it to the solicitations of powerful friends
and to the influence of court intrigue. Thus circum-
stanced and thus characterized, is it wonderful to
find them sometimes patrolling the city disguised in
female dress; at other times assailing the representa-
tives of the people with the most virulent abuse,
and defrauding the province by the most despicable
acts of peculation ; and at all times despising know-

* Hosack's Memoir of De Witt Clinton ; James Renwick's
Life of Clinton ; W. W. Campbell's Life and Writings of Clin-
ton ; article on Clinton, by LL T. Tuckerman, N. A. Review,
Oct., 1854.

ledge, and overlooking the public prosperity ? Justice,
however, requires that we should except from this
censure Hunter and Burnet. Hunter was a man of
wit, a correspondent of Swift, and a friend of
Addison. Burnet, the son of the celebrated Bishop
of Salisbury, was devoted to literature ; they were
the best governors that ever presided over the
colony.

The love of fame is the most active principle of our
nature. To be honoured when living — to be vene-
rated when dead — is the parent source of those
writings which have illuminated — of those actions
Which have benefited and dazzled mankind. All
that poetry has created, that philosophy has dis-
covered, that heroism has performed, may be princi-
pally ascribed to this exalted passion. True it is,

When fame's loud trump hatb blown its noblest blast,
Though long the sound, the echo sleeps at last;
And glory, like the phoenix 'midst her fires,
Exhales her odours, blazes, and expires.

Lord Byeon.

Yet, as long as man is susceptible of sublime
emotions, so long will he commit himself to this
master feeling of a noble nature. What would
have become of the sublime work of Milton, if he
had written for the fifteen pounds which he received
from the bookseller; and where would have been
the writings of Bacon, if he had not aspired to im-
mortal fame? " My name and memory," said this
prince of philosophers, in his will, " I leave to foreign
nations, and to my own countrymen after some time
be passed over." When with one hand he demolished
the philosophy of the schools, and with the other
erected a magnificent temple dedicated to truth and
genuine knowledge, he was animated in his pro-
gress, and cheered in his exertions by the persuasion
that after ages would erect an imperishable monu-
ment to his fame.

But in order that this passion may have its full
scope and complete operation, it is not only necessary
that there should be a proper subject, but a suitable
place, and an enlightened public. The actor, in
order to act well his part, must have a good theatre
and a respectable audience. Would Demosthenes
and Cicero have astonished mankind by their oratory,
if they had spoken in Sparta or in Carthage ? would
Addison have written his Spectators in Kamtschatka,
or Locke his work on the Understanding at Madrid?
destroy the inducement to act, take awajr the capa-
city to judge, and annihilate the value of applause,
and poetry sinks into dulness ; philosophy loses its
powers of research ; and eloquence evaporates into
froth and mummery.

A provincial government, like ours before the
revolution, was entirely incompetent to call into
activity this ennobling propensity of our nature.
A small population, scattered over an extensive
country, and composed almost entirely of strangers
to literature ; a government derivative and depen-
dent, without patronage and influence, ■ and in
hostility to the public sentiment ; a people divided
into political and religious parties, and a parent
country watching all their movements with a step-
mother's feelings, and keeping down their prosperity
with the arm of power, could not be expected to
produce those literary worthies who have illuminated
the other hemisphere.

History justifies the remark that free governments,
although happier in themselves, are as oppressive to
their provinces as despotic ones. It was a common
saying in Greece, that a free man in Sparta was the
freest man: and a slave, the greatest slave in the
world. This remark may be justly applied to the
ancient republics which had provinces under their
control. The people of the parent country were

DE WITT CLINTON.

573

free, and those remote were harassed with all kinds
of exactions, borne down by the high hand of op-
pression, and under the subjection of a military
despotism. The colonial system of modern times is
equally calculated to build up the mother country
011 the depression of its colonies. That all their ex-
ports shall go to, and all their imports be derived
from it, is the fundamental principle. Admitting oc-
casional departures from this system, is it possible
that an infant country, so bandaged and cramped,
could attain to that maturity of growth, which is
essential to the promotion ami encouragement of
literature? Accordingly we do not find in an}7 colony
of modern times any peculiar devotion to letters, or
any extraordinary progress in the cultivation of the
human mind. The most fertile soil — the most be-
nign climate — all that nature can produce, and art
can perfect, are incompetent to remove the be-
numbing effects which a provincial and dependent
position operates upon the efforts of genius.

PARTIES — FROM TnE LETTERS OF mnERNTCtTS.

Canandaigua, June, 1820.
My Dear Sir,

In every country or village inn, the bar-room is
the coffee room, exchange, or place of intelligence,
where all the quidnuncs, newsmongers, and politi-
cians of the district resort, and where strangers and
travellers make their first entry. Neither my taste,
my habits, nor my convenience will admit of gorge-
ous or showy equipments, and when I therefore take
my seat in the caravanseras, there is nothing in my
appearance to attract particular attention. Many a
person with whom I have held conversations, has
undoubtedly forgotten the subject, as well as the
company. In the desultory and rapid manner in
which such conferences are generally managed, a
stranger is liable to mistake names and titles of office.
I have no doubt but this has been my case fre-
quently: I may have styled a major a colonel, and
a sheriff a judge, and if so, I assure you without the
most distant idea of giving offence.

Curs'd be the verse however sweet they flow,
"Which tends to make one worthy man my foe,
Give virtue scandal, innocence afear,
Or from tho meek-ey'd virgin draw a tear.

Volney told me in Paris, that he travelled all over
the west on foot. My countrymen, Dr. M'Nevin and
Dr. Goldsmith, perambulated a great portion of
Europe; and Wilson, the father of American Orni-
thology, was almost always a pedestrian traveller.
How cautious ought people to be when in company
with strangers. I have heard folly from the mouths
of lawgivers, and ribaldry in the conversations of
the notables of the land. Unnoticed, unobserved,
reclining on my chair in the bar-room, I have seen
human nature without disguise — the artificial great
man exhibiting his importance — the humble under-
strapper listening like a blacksmith to a tailor's news
— the oracle of the place mounted on his tripod, and
pronouncing his opinions with solemn gravity. O !
if I had been recognised as a traveller from the
eastern world — a keen observer of human nature —
and a recorder of what I saw, I humbly hope that
much nonsense would have been spared, and many
improper exhibitions prevented ; but then I would
have seen man at a masquerade. I now derive light
from my obscurity, and observe thi3 world as it is.
My plain dress, my moderate expenditures, my un-
obtrusive behaviour, avert particular remark. It is
only in the society of such men as I meet with in
this place, that I am considered as of the least im-
portance. The prevalent conversations all over this
federal republic, are on the subjects of political ex-
citement. After some sage remarks on the weather,
which compose the exordium of all conversations,

the man of America, like the man of Athens, asks,
What news ? It is needless to say, that I have
steered entirely clear of political and theological
strife. I hardly understand the nomenclature of
parties. They are all republicans, and yet a portion
of the people assume the title of republican, as an
exclusive right, or patent monopoly. They are all
federalists, that is, in favor of a general government
— and yet a party arrogate to themselves this ap-
pellation to the disparagement of the others. It is
easy to see that the difference is nominal — that the
whole controversy is about office, and that the
country is constantly assailed by ambitious dema-
gogues, for the purpose of gratifying their cupidity.
It is a melancholy, but true reflection on human
nature, that the smaller the difference the greater the
animosity. Mole hills and rivulets become moun-
tains and rivers. The Greek empire was ruined by
two most inveterate factions, the Prasini and Vineti,
which originated in the color of livery in equestrian
races. The parties of Guelphs and Gibbelines, of
Roundheads and Cavaliers, of Whigs and Tories, con-
tinued after all causes, of difference were merged.
I have often asked some of the leading politicians
of this country, what constituted the real points of
discrimination between the Republicans and Fede-
ralists, and I never could get a satisfactory answer.
An artful man will lay hold of words if he cannot
of things, in order to promote his views. The Jan-
senists and the Jesuits, the Nominalists and the
Realists, the Sub-lapsarians, and the Supra-lapsarians,
were in polemics what the party controversies of
this people are in politics. If you place an ass at an
equal distance between two bundles of hay, will
he not remain there to all eternity? was a question
solemnly propounded and gravely debated by the
schoolmen. The motive to eat both, some contended,
being equal, it was impossible for the animal to come
to a conclusion. He would therefore remain in a
state of inaction, for ever and for ever. This pro-
blem, so puzzling to scholastic philosophers, would at
once be decided by the ass, and the experimentum
cruris would effectually silence every doubt. It is
impossible for a man, however quietly disposed, to
act the supposititious part of the scholastic ass, and
remain neutral between the parties, or bundles of
hay. He must in truth participate in one or in
both, and as it respects any radical difference of
principle, it is very immaterial which he selects.
There are some pendulum politicians who are con-
tinually oscillating between parties, and these men,
in endeavoring to expiate their former oppugnation
by fiery zeal, are mere firebrands in society. In
order to cover their turpitude, they assume high-
sounding names, and are in verity political partizans,
laying claim to be high-minded, and like Jupiter on
Olympus, elevated above the atmosphere of common
beings. And what adds infinitely to the force of
these pretensions, is to find the most of these gentry
to be the heroes of petty strife, and the leaders of
village vexation, the fag ends of the learned pro-
fessions, and the outcasts of reputable associations.
I often think of the observations of the honest old
traveller, Tournefort, when I see the inordinate
violence of these high-minded gentlemen. " The
Turk (says he), take 'em one with another, are much
honester men than renegadoes ; and perhaps it is out
of contempt that they do not circumcise renegadoes ;
for they have a common saying, that a bad Christian
will never make a good Turk."

LITERARY TASTE — FROM TnE LETTERS OF nrBEENICUS.

Western Region, August, 1820.
My Dear Sir,

The beauties of an American sky are frequently

571

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

unparalleled, and there is a peculiar lustre in the ap-
pearance of the morning star, which I have never
seen equalled in my native land. This planet, on
account of its propinquity to the earth, is only ex-
ceeded in apparent size by the moon, and on this
account, and its superior effulgence, it has very
naturally been a subject of poetical description. It
may relieve the monotony of my former communi-
cations, to refer to some passages in the most dis-
• tinguished poets on this subject.

Homer, in his fifth Iliad, in representing Diomede
under the influence of Pallas, says,

Fires on hi* helmet, and his shield around
She kindled bright and steady as the star
Autumnal, which in ocean newly bath'd,
Assumes fresh beauty.

The same allusion also occurs in Horace —

Merses profundo, pulchrior evenit. '

Virgil in his 8th Eneid, says —

Qnalis uhi oceani perfusus Lucifer unda.
Quern Venus ante alios astrorum diligit ignes,
Extulit oa sacrum caelo tenebrasquc resolvit.

Lastly comes Milton, who1 thus exclaims in his

Lycidas : —

So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed,

And yet aoon repairs his drooping head,

And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore

Flames in the forehead of the morning sky.

If these extracts shall be considered as fair speci-
mens by which to compare poetic merit, in what
an illustrious light does Milton appear ?

A poet as well ns an orator, in order to be truly
great, ought to have a fertile imagination, under the
dominion of good taste. Those faults which result
from undisciplined genius, are however more tole-
rable than those which spring from sterility of mind.
In one of my solitary walks, I stopped at a farm-
house for refreshment, and I accidentally found an
old newspaper which contained an address from a
ci-devant governor to a great military commander,
on the presentation of a sword. The writer has
evidently put his mind into a state of violent ex-
ertion, and in striving to be sublime and magnifi-
cent, has shown a total incapacity in thought as
well as language. In speaking of a nocturnal battle
near the cataract of Niagara, he says that it pro-
duced a midnight rainbow, whose refulgence out-
shone the iris of the day.

This master-piece of the great orator and states-
man who wrote it, can only be excelled by the poet
quoted by Dryden, when he says —

Now when the winter's keener breath began
To ehrystalize the Baltic ocean,
To glaze the Lakes, to bridle up the floods,
And periwig with snow the bald pate woods. .

Or, perhaps, it is exceeded by the following eulo-
gium of a country school-master on General Wolfe.

Great General "Wolfe, without any fears,
Led on his brave grenadiers,
And what is most miraculous and particular,
He climb'd up rocks that were perpendicular.

And yet would you believe that the man who pro-
nounced that farrago of bombastic nonsense, has
been a governor, a vice-president, and God knows
what ; and that he is passed off as a paragon of wis-
dom, and an exemplar of greatness. "With intellect
not more than sufficient to preside over the shop-
board of a tailor, or to conduct the destinies of a
village school, he has, by the force of fortuitous
circumstances, attained to ephemeral consequence.
DAlembert has justly observed that " the apices of
the loftiest pyramids in church and state, are only
attained by eagles and reptiles." The history of
democracies continually exhibits the rise of perni-

cious demagogues warring against wisdom and virtue,
philosophy and patriotism — but why do I confine
this remark to any particular form of government?
The spirit of the observation will apply to human
nature in all its. forms and varieties. Even in the
Augustan age of Great Britain, Elkanah Settle was
set up as the rival of Dryden — and Stephen Duck was
put in competition with Pope. This levelling prin-
ciple gratifies two unworthy feelings ; it endeavors
to mortify the truly great by its flagrant injustice,
and it strives to lower them down to our own de-
pression of insignificance. Posterity, however, will
dispense justice with unerring hand, and with im-
partial distribution ; and the great men who are al-
most always assailed by calumny, and who are some-
times borne down by ingratitude, may, in considering
the benefits which they have rendered to the human
race, confidently appeal to heaven for their reward,
and to posterity for their justification.

DAVID HOSACK.

Doctor David Hosack, F.R.S., was born in tha
city of New York, August 31, 1769. His father,
a Scotchman, came to America with Lord Jeffrey
Amherst, upon the siege of Louisburg. His mo-
ther was the daughter of Francis Arden of New
York. He was educated at Columbia College and
at Princeton ; received his medical degree at Phi-
ladelphia in 1791 ; visited the schools of Edinburgh
and London, where he wrote a paper on Vision
which was published in the Transactions of the
Royal Society in 1794, and on his return to New
York filled the Professorship of Botany and Ma-
teria Medica in Columbia College. In the new
College of Physicians and Surgeons he taught Phy-
sic and Clinical Medicine, and was engaged in
the short-lived Rutgers Medical College. He was
eminent as a clinical instructor. He engaged with
Francis in the publication of the Medical and Phi-
losophical Register. His Medical Essays were
published in three octavo volumes, 1824-30. His
System of Practical Nosology was published in
18'29, and in an improved form in 1821. He
wrote discourses on Horticulture, on Temperance,
biographical notices of Rush and Wistar, and a
memoir in quarto of De Witt Clinton. The style
of these productions is full and elegant. From
1820 to 1828 he was President of the New York
Historical Society. A posthumous publication on
The Practice of Physic, edited by Dr. H. W.
Ducachet, one of his pupils, appeared in 1838.

^7/«

Hosack was for more than thirty years a pro-
minent medical practitioner in New York, and,
fond of society, exercised a strong personal influ-
ence in the city. The Duke of Saxe-Weimar,
in his travels in America in 1825, mentions the
social importance of his Saturday evening parties,
where the professional gentlemen of the city and
distinguished foreigners were liberall}- enter-
tained. In all prominent movements connected
with the arts, the drama, medical and other local
institutions, and the state policy of internal im-
provements, Hosack bore a part.

AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY.

575

He was twice married ; in the first instance to
a sister of Thomas Eddy, the benevolent Quaker
at the head of the hospitals and charitable insti-
tutions of the city. By his second wife, the
widow of Henry A. Costar, he became possessed
of a large income.

Dr. Hosack died of an attack of apoplexy at his
residence in Chambers Street, New York, De-
cember 23, 1835*

FREDERICK DALCHO,

A physician and clergyman of South Carolina,
was born in London. His father was a Polander
by birth, and an officer of considerable rank in one
of the European armies, we think of Hanover.
Having been severely wounded he went over to
England with his family, and lived a few years on
his pension. At his death his brother in Mary-
land invited the boy Frederick over to America,
and gave him an excellent education in Baltimore.
He studied medicine successfully, became a skil-
ful botanist, and obtained a commission in the
medical department of the American army. He
came with his division to South Carolina, and was
stationed with them at Fort Johnson in Charles-
ton Harbor. Hero some disagreement occurred
between him and his brother officers, under which
Dr. Dalcho resigned his commission, and became
a practitioner of medicine in Charleston. In 1800
he was associated with Dr. Isaac 'Auld, and be-
came a member of the Medical Society of South
Carolina. He was active in establishing the Bo-
tanic Garden, and continued several years one of
the Trustees of that Institution.

About the year 1810 Dr. Dalcho relinquished
his practice and became associated with Mr. A.
S. Willington in conducting the Courier, a daily
Federal newspaper. About the year 1811 he be-
came more than usually devoted to religions
reflections and studies. In 1812 he became Lay
Reader in St. Paul's Church, Colleton, and was
ordained Deacon on the loth of February, 1814,
by the Right Rev. Theodore Dehon. Having
been admitted to priest's orders by the Right Rev.
W. White of Pennsylvania, he was elected as-
sistant minister of St. Michael's Church, Charles-
ton, by a majority of the congregation in the year
1819. He continued with unabated zeal and piety
devoted to the advancement of religion in his pas-
toral charge, until his declining health called for
repose. His vestry would not part with him, but
gave leave of absence on a continued salary for an
indefinite time. He continued to decline in health,
and died on the 24th November, 1836, in the
67th year of his age, and the seventeenth of his
ministry in that church.

The religious publications of Dr. Dalcho were
few. One was on the Evidence of the Divinity
of our Saviour. The other is a work of high au-

* Memoir by Dr. J. W. Francis, in "Williams's American Me-
dical Biography.

thority, being An Historical Account of the Pro-
testant Episcopal Church in South Carolina*
and the early history of the State unavoidably
blended with that of the Church. This work is
quoted and referred to frequently by writers on
different questions incidental to such subjects.

AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY.

The American Philosophical Society was
formed at Philadelphia on the second of January,
1769, by the union of two associations of a simi-
lar character, the American Philosophical Society,
and the American Society for promoting and pro-
pagating Useful Knowledge. The first of these ori-
ginated in a printed circular issued by Franklin,
dated May 14, 1743, entitled, A Proposal for
Promoting Useful Knowledge among the British
Plantations in America. The society seems to
have gone into immediate operation, as on the 5th
of April, 1744, Franklin writes to Cadwallader
Colden, " that the society, as far as it relates to
Philadelphia, is actually formed, and has had se-
veral meetings to mutual satisfaction." Thomas
Hopkinson was the first president. The minutes
of the society have been lost, so that the details
of its early history are unknown. Its meetings,
after having been kept up for about ten years,
were discontinued.

The second of the societies named was founded
in the year 1750. It was originally called the
Junto, and is supposed to have been formed by
the members of the old Junto, who, unwilling to
enlarge their own circle by the admission of new
members, were desirous of perpetuating its name
and usefulness.

In December, 1766, the admission of corres-
ponding members was decided upon, and the
name of the society changed to. " The American
Society for Promoting and Propagating Useful
Knowledge, held at Philadelphia.!' In 1768,
Charles Thomson (afterwards Secretary of Con-
gress), one of its leading members, prepared " Pro-
posals for enlarging this society, in order that it
may the better answer the end for which it was
instituted, namely, the promoting and propagating
useful knowledge." It embraces every depart-
ment of science in the scope of its proposed inqui-
ries, prominence being given to those of an imme-
diate practical character, and especially to agri-
culture. The paper is published in the first
volume of the Transactions.

Large additions of members were made, and on
the 23d of September a new coda of laws and a
new title, " The American Society, held at Phi-
ladelphia, for promoting Useful Knowledge,"
adopted. On the fourth of November, at its first
election, Benjamin Franklin was chosen presi-
dent.

Meanwhile the members of the American Phi-
losophical Society, reduced, to six in number, re-
solved, in 1707, to resuscitate that institution.
They elected four new members in November of
that year, and forty-four in the January following.
John Penn, the governor of the province, con-
sented to become patron, and on the ninth of

* Historical Account of the Protestant Episcopal Church in
South Carolina, by Frederick Dalcho, M. L\ Charleston, S. C.
1S20.

576

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

February, 1768, the Hon. James Hamilton was
elected president.

On the 22d of March the first scientific commu-
nication was made in " A Description of a New
Orrery, planned and now nearly finished by Da-
vid Rittenhouse, A.M." It is the first paper in
the Transactions. Preparations were made in the
same year for observing the approaching Transit
of Venus, which was to occur on the 3d of June,
1769. The society voted to construct an observ-
atory at Philadelphia, where, and also at Norri-
ton, observations were to be taken under its aus-
pices. Finding their means insufficient they, in
September, sought the aid of the legislature, who
voted a hundred pounds for the purchase of a
reflecting telescope.

On the 22d of January, 1769, the two societies
were united. An exciting contest took place«at
the first presidential election between Hamilton
and Franklin as the candidates, which resulted in
the election of the latter.

Additional aid being obtained from the legis-
lature, temporary observatories were soon after
erected in State-House square, Philadelphia, and I
Rittenhouse's residence at Norriton, and the de-
sired observations made, the weather proving ex-
tremely favorable, with great success at these
stations and from a building at Cape Henlopen.

In the same year the society instructed their
committee on American Improvements to inquire
as to " the best place for cutting a canal to join
the waters of the Delaware and Chesapeake, with
the probable expense that would attend the exe-
cution of it." An appeal for pecuniary aid in the
prosecution of the surveys was made to the mer-
chants of the city, and liberally responded to.
The report, recommending what is known as the
upper route, but declining to make an estimate of
the cost, "judging it an undertaking beyond the
ability of the country," appears in the first volume
of the Transactions.

Soon after the consolidation of the two societies
a committee was appointed to prepare a volume
for the jiress from papers read at the meetings.
A fist was reported in August, 1769, and on the
22d of February, 1771, the work appeared.

The next efforts of the society were devoted to
the manufacture of silk, and a company was
formed for the purpose under its auspices. En-
deavors were also made to introduce the culture
of the vine. The society was, like every insti-
tution of learning, suspended during the Revolu-
tion. It, however, resumed its labors before the
conclusion of the contest, re-as>embling on the
5th of March, 1779. It was incorporated March
15, 1780. In 1785 a lot of ground, 70 by 50 feet,
in State House square, facing Fifth street, was
granted to the society, who proceeded to erect a
hall, which was completed in 1791. Some
$3500 was obtained towards defraying the ex-
penses of the building* $540 of which were con-
tributed by Franklin. The society derive a small
revenue from the rental of the ground-floor of
this building.

The laws of the society (passed Feb. 3, 1769)
direct that its members " shall be classed into
one or more of the following committees —

"1. Geography, Mathematics, Natural Philoso-
phy, and Astronomy.

"2. Medicine and Anatomy.

" 3. Natural History and Chemistry.

" 4. Trade and Commerce.

" 5. Mechanics and Architecture.

"6. Husbandry and American Improvements."

The number of members is not limited. The
officers are, a patron (the governor of the state),
a president, three vice-presidents, a treasurer,
four secretaries, three curators, and twelve coun-
sellors.

On the death of Franklin, in 1791, David Rit-
tenhouse was elected president.

David EitteDhonse.

The family of Rittenhouse, at the commence-
ment of the last century, emigrated to New
York, and afterwards removed to Germantown,
Pennsylvania, where he was born, April 8, 1732.
His parents removed during his childhood to a
farm at Norriton, Montgomery county, about
twenty miles from Philadelphia, where his early
years were passed in agricultural pursuits. " It
was at this place," says his eulogist, Rush, " his
peculiar genius first discovered itself. His
plough, the fences, and even the stones of the
field in which he worked, were frequently
marked with figures, which denoted a talent
for mathematical studies." He also "made him-
self master" of Newton's Principia, and devoted
himself to the science of fluxions, "of which
sublime invention he believed himself to be the
author ; nor did he know for some years after-
wards, that a contest had been carried on be-
tween Sir Isaac Newton and Leibnitz for the
honor of that great and useful discovery."

His mechanical ingenuity was also early de-
veloped. At the age of seven he constructed a
complete water-mill in miniature, and ten years
after, having in the meantime received no instruc-
tion in the arts, made a wooden clock. Being
permitted by his parents to follow his own inclina-
tions in the choice of a livelihood, he abandoned
agriculture, and erecting a small work-shop by
the road-side on his father's land at Norriton,
commenced business as a clock and mathematical
instrument maker, many of his tools being the
work of his own hands. The astronomical clock
made by Rittenhouse, and used in his Observa-
tory, is now in the possession of the Society.

His mental development was much aided by a
friendship formed when he was about nineteen
with the Rev. William Barton, who not long
after married his sister. Barton was a young
Irishman, who had received a liberal education,
and possessed a few books. Rittenhouse, whose

AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY.

577

early education had been limited, seized with
avidity the advantages thus opened to him, and
devoted himself to midnight stud}' after his daily
labors with such devotion, as to seriously impair
his health for the remainder of his life.

It was while thus employed that he construct-
ed his Orrery. The work was purchased by the
College of New Jersey ; and a second one, con-
structed by him on the same model, is now in
the possession of the University of Pennsylvania.

Owing to the interest excited by this produc-
tion, he was induced to remove to Philadelphia
in 1770, where he continued in business for seve-
ral years. He was elected a member of the
Philosophical Society, and became a frequent
contributor to its Transactions. We find him in
August, 1773, making a report as chairman of a
committee appointed to examine the first steam-
engine erected in this country. " It was made
by Christopher Colles, for the purpose of pump-
ing up water at a distillery." The report states
that the engine " performed several strokes," but
in consequence of its execution being attempted
at a very low expense, it did not continue its
motion long. A favorable opinion is expressed
of the undertaking'.*

In 1 775 he delivered the annual oration before
the same body. The subject of his discourse
was Astronomy.

In 1779 he was employed by the State of Penn-
sylvania as one of the commissioners for settling
a disputed boundary between her territory and
that of Virginia. In 17S4, he performed a simi-
lar service on the western, and, in 1786, on the
northern boundary of his native state. In 1789,
he was employed in determining the boundary
line between New Jersey and New York, and, in
1787, between the latter state and Massachusetts.
"In his excursions through the wilderness," says
Rush, "he carried with him his habits of inquiry
and observation. Nothing in our mountains, soils,
rivers, and springs, escaped his notice. It is to be
lamented that his private letters and the memo-
ries of his friends are the only records of what
he collected upon these occasions."

Soon after his election as President of the Phi-
losophical Society, he gave a substantial proof of
his interest in the institution by a donation of
three hundred pounds.

In 1792, he was appointed a Director of the
United States Mint, an office from which he re-
tired three years after, in consequence of ill
health.

He died on the 26th of June, 1796, and, in ac-
cordance with his expressed wish, was buried
beneath the pavement of his observatory, in the
garden adjoining his residence. Dr. Ashbel
Green, whose church he attended, spoke at his
grave.t An eulogium upon him was delivered on
the 17th of December following, before the Phi-
losophical Society, by Dr. Benjamin Rush, and
his life, by his nephew, William Barton.! pub-
lished in 1813.

* E. M. Patterson's Address, p. 29.
t Life of Aslibcl Green, 42;

* Memoirs of the Life of David Eittenhouse, LL.D., F.E.S.,
late President of the American Philosophical Society, &c. ; in-
terspersed with various notices of mnnv distinguished men,
with an Appendix, containing sundry philosophical and other
papers, most of which have riot hitherto been published. By
William Barton, A.M. Philadelphia, 1S13.

VOL. I. — 37

The best eulogy of his private character, when
we take in consideration the high position he had
gained for himself by his own exertions, is the
simple statement of his friend, Ashbel Green,
"He was, perhaps, the most modest man I ever
knew."

The presidency was next filled, for three year?,
by Thomas Jefferson. On his retirement, Dr.
Wistar became his successor.

Caspar Wistar was the grandson of an emigrant
from Germany in 1717, who established a glass
manufactory in New Jersey. His parents were
Quakers, residing in Philadelphia, where he was
born, September 13, 1761. In 1783, he visited
England, to complete his medical studies. He
returned to Philadelphia in January, 1787, having
in the meantime inherited a large fortune by the
death of his father, and commenced practice. In
1789, he was elected Professor of Chemistry, and,
in 1808, of Anatomy, in the University, which
acquired a high reputation as a medical schooWrora
his exertions and distinguished position, he being
regarded in Europe, as well as in his own country,
as one of the first medical authorities of his time.
He was elected, July 20, 1787, a member, and,
January 6, 1815, President, of the American
Philosophical Society, and so continued until his
death, January 22, 1818, contributing several
articles to the Transactions,

His chief production is, A System of Anatomy,
2 vols. 8vo. 1814. He enjoys a genial reputation,
in addition to his scientific honors, as the founder
of the Wistar parties, which, originally gather-
ings of his friends every Saturday at his own
residence, have since his death been continued
on the same evening of the week by the sur-
vivors and their successors, each taking his turn
as host.

Robert Patterson, the next president, was born
in the north of Ireland, May 30, 1743. He>
emigrated to Philadelphia in 1768, and in 1774
became the principal of the Wilmington Academy,
Delaware. He served as brigade-major in the
Revolutionary war, and in 1779 was appointed
Professor of Mathematics in the University of
Pennsylvania, afterwards becoming Vice-Provost
of that institution. In 1805, he was appointed
Director of the Mint. Ho was chosen President
of the American Philosophical Society in 1819,
and died July 22, 1824. He is the author of
several papers in the Society's Transactions.

William Tilghman, elected a member of the
Society in 1805, was the next president.

He was born, August 12, 1756, in Talbot
county, Maryland, lie was admitted to the bar
in Maryland in 1783, but in 1793 removed to
Philadelphia, where he practised his profession
until his appointment, by President Adams, as
Chief Judge of the Circuit Court of the United
States. The law establishing this office being
repealed in about a year, Mr. Tilghman returned
to practice. In July, 1805, he was appointed
President of the Courts of Common Pleas in the
first district, and, in February, 1800, Chief Justice
of the Supreme Court of the state. He died
April 30, 1827. He prepared, in 1809, by di-
rection of the Legislature, a report of the Eng-
lish statutes in force within the state, and pub-
lished in 1818 an eulogium on Dr. Wistar. He
was succeeded by Peter S. Du Ponceau.

578

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

This distinguished philologist was born in Rhe,
an inland on the western coast of France, where
his father held a military command, June 3, 1760.
He displayed at an early age a great aptitude for
the study of languages, and acquired a knowledge
of English and Italian from intercourse with the
officers of an Irish and Italian regiment stationed
in his vicinity. He was educated for the post of
a military engineer, but was prevented from enter-
ing the army on account of being short-sighted.
He was in consequence sent, in 1773, to a Bene-
dictine College at St. Jean d'Angely. After he
had remained there eighteen months his father
died, and at the solicitation of his mother and
family he consented to heroine a priest. He was
made an instructor by the Bishop of Rochelle in
the college at Bressuire in Poitou, but soon
becoming tired of the place, be abandoned it in
1775, went to Paris, and for some time earned a
frugal subsistence by translating English works
by the sheet, English letters for business men,
and giving lessons, ne next formed the acquain-
tance of Count de Gebelin, author of the Monde
Primitif, who made him his private secretary.
"While filling this office, he met at the house of
Beaumarchais with Baron Steuben, who per-
suaded him to accompany him as his secretary
and aide-de-camp to America. They sailed from
Marseilles, and arrived at Portsmouth, New
Hampshire, December 1, 1777. At the request
of the Baron, Du Ponceau was appointed captain
by brevet in the American army, February 18,
1778. He accompanied Steuben in his move-
ments until the winter of 1780, when he was
attacked at Philadelphia with cough and spitting
of blood, and so reduced in strength that he was
obliged to desist from further military service, and
retired from the army. He became a citizen of
Pennsylvania, and in October, 1781, was appoint-
ed secretary to Robert R. Livingston, then in
charge of the department of Foreign Affairs.
After filling this office for a period of twenty
months he commenced the study of the law, and
was admitted an attorney in Juno, 17S5. He
had previously been appointed a notary public.
In 1778 ho married, and in 17D1 was appointed
a sworn interpreter of foreign languages. The
succeeding years were closely devoted to his pro-
fession, in which he rose to such eminence as to
decline, in consequence of his prospects of practice,
an appointment by Jefferson as Chief Justice of
Louisiana. During his legal career he translated
several valuable works on that science, and pre-
pared some original essays on the same subject.
Having gained a " comfortable competence" by
his profession, he was enabled to devote himself
to the less remunerative, but to him most agree-
able labors of a philologist. He was much
encouraged in this pursuit by the formation in
March, 1815, by the American Philosophical
Society, of which he had become a member in
1701, of the "committee of history, moral science,
and general literature." He prepared and pre-
sented in behalf of this committee a report in
1819 on the Structure of the Indian Lan-
guages, which was printed in the Transactions,
and gave him a distinguished position in his
favorite department of learning, procuring him
among other honors the degree of LL.D., and an
election on the 20th of April, 1827, as member

of the Academy of Inscriptions of the French
Institute. In May, 1835, the Linguistique prize,
founded by Volnej', was awarded him by the
same body for his memoir on the Indian Lan-
guages of North America, afterwards published
in Paris. Bis next and last work was a Dis-
sertation on the Chinese Language, published in
1838, in which he maintained that the written
language of that people was hxigraphic, that is
composed of characters representing sounds, in
opposition to the general opinion that it is
ideographic, or composed of characters repre-
senting ideas.

Mr. Du Poncean was the author of a number
of memoirs contributed to the various learned
societies of which he was a member, and in many
instances president; of addresses delivered on
various public occasions, and of several essays.
He was a constant reader and writer throughout
his life in spite of the defect in his vision, which
in his latter years was accompanied by cataract.
He is said to have been remarkable for great
absence of mind. He died on the first day of
April, 1844, at the advanced age of eighty-four
years.

Dr. Nathaniel Chapman, elected President of
the Society in 1846, was a native of Virginia,
and for many years Professor of the Theory and
Practice of Medicine in the University of Penn-
sylvania. He occupied a distinguished position
as a practitioner of medicine, and contributed
largely to the medical literature of the country.
He died at Philadelphia, July 1, 1853, at the age
of seventy-four.

Dr. R. M. Patterson was elected President in
1849. He was born in Philadelphia, and was the
son of Robert Patterson, a former President.

On completing his education as a chemist under
Sir Humphrey Davy, he returned in 1812 to his
native country, and soon after was elected Pro-
fessor of Natural Philosophy, Chemistry, and
Mathematics, in the University of Pennsylvania.

In 1828 he accepted a Professorship in the
University of Virginia, where he remained until
1835, when he was appointed Director of the
United States Mint at Philadelphia, which office
he held until 1853, when his declining health in-
duced him to resign.

Dr. Patterson was elected a member of the
Society in 1809, in his twenty-second year, at
an earlier age than any person previously ad-
mitted. He was a most active participant in the
labors of the Society, and contributed largely
both by oral and written communications to the
interest of its proceedings. He delivered, May
25, 1843, while Vice-President, A Discourse on
the Early History of the American Philosophic
Society, pronounced by appointment of the So-
ciety at the celebration of its Hundredth Anniver-
sary, to which we have to acknowledge our obli-
gations. It closes with the reorganization of the
association, March 5, 1779. He died in Philadel-
phia, September 5, 1854, aged 68 years.

On the resignation of Dr. Patterson, the office
of President was conferred in 1853 upon Dr.
Franklin Bache, a great-grandson of the illustrious
founder of the Society. Dr. Bache has been for
many years Professor of Chemistry in the Jeffer-
son Medical College of Philadelphia, and has
greatly aided in elevating that school to its pre-

AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY.

:o

sent eminent position. As joint author with Dr.
Wood of the " United States' Dispensatory," he
has rendered valuable service to the promotion
of medical science.

By the revised laws of the Society, his term
of office having expired with the j'ear 185-t, the
dignity of President of the Society was conferred
at the election in January, 1855, upon his cousin,
Professor Alexander Dallas Bache.

Professor A. D. Bache is a native of Philadel-
phia, and after having filled with great success
the positions of Professor of "Natural Philosophy
and Chemistry in the University of Pennsylvania,
Principal of the High School of Philadelphia, and
President of Grirard College, was appointed to
succeed Mr. Hassler as Superintendent of the
Coast Survey of the United States, and has since
resided in "Washington.

Under the rare combination of high scientific
talent with great administrative faculties, which
were also possessed by his great-grandfather
Franklin, Professor Bache has been enabled to ex-
ercise a personal supervision, as well over the
details as over the grander generalizations attained
in the progress of the gigantic survey under his
control. And it is especially by this happy com-
bination of power, that the most extensive survey
hitherto undertaken by any nation has now been
brought to the high state of perfection which
renders it one of the proudest triumphs of Ameri-
can science.

Am.ing the works of Professor Bache, of special
interest, must be mentioned the admirable report
on the subject of Education in Europe, founded
upon personal investigations made by him under
the authority of the Grirard College, with a view
to tlie organization of that institution.

Anving the chief contributors to the early
volumes of the Transactions we meet the name
of Henry Ernst Muhlenberg. He was born in
New Providence, Montgomery County, Penn-
sylvania, November 17, 1753, and in April, 1763,
sent with his two elder brothers to Halle, to com-
plete his general education, and study theology.
He returned in 1770, was ordained at the early
ago of seventeen, and became assistant to his
father in the Lutheran Church at Philadelphia.
During the occupation of the city by the British
he retired to the country, where he employed his
leisure in the study of botany. In 1780, he
accepted a call to Lancaster, where the remainder
of his life was passed in the discharge of his
pastoral duties. He died of apoplexy, May 23,

Dr. Muhlenberg was a thorough classical and
oriental scholar. He also paid great attention to
the natural sciences, and especially to botany.
He commenced this study during a retirement to
the country and suspension of his clerical duties
in 1777, during the occupation of Philadelphia by
the British, and attained to eminence in his
favorite pursuit. He was elected a member of
the American Philosophical Society in 1786, and
contributed several papers to the Transactions.
He soon after became a member of the leading
associations of a similar character in Germany
and the North of Europe, and his letters are fre-
quently referred to in Wildenow's edition of the
Species Plantarum. His chief publications are
Catalogus Plantarum and Bescriptio uberior gra-

minum. nis Flora Lancastriemis, and a num-
ber of papers on botany, theology, and ethics,
remain in manuscript. His herbarium was pur-
chased and presented to the American Philoso-
phical Society.*

Benjamin Smith Barton also wrote for the same
work. This eminent botanist was the son of the
Rev. Mr. Barton of Lancaster, Pa., where he was
born February 10, 1766. His mother was a sister
of Rittenhouse. In 1786 he visited Europe to
complete his education, and after passing some
time at Edinburgh and London went to Gbttin-
gen, where he. received his medical diploma. He
returned to Philadelphia, and commenced practice
in 1789, and in 1790 was appointed Professor of
Natural History and Botany in the University.
He afterwards succeeded Dr. Griffiths as Pro-
fessor of Materia Medica, and Dr. Rush as Pro-
fessor of the Theory and Practice of Medicine.
In 1803 he published the first American elemen-
tary work on botany, and his college lectures on
the same subject did much to diffuse a taste for
the science. He commenced in 1804, and con-
tinued for several years, a Medical Physical Jour-
nal. He also wrote New Views of the Indian
Triles, a work on the American Materia Medica,
arid a paper on the Pyrola Umbellata, in the
Medico-Chirurgical Transactions of London. He
died, December 19,1815.

Dr. Adam Seybert, the chemist, mineralogist,
and author of Statistical Annals of the United
States from 1789 to 1815, 4to., who died at
Paris, May 2, 1825, and Andrew Ellicott, Pro-
fessor of Mathematics at West Point, who plan-
ned the city of Washington, and was also
employed in running the boundary between the
United States and the Spanish colonies, appear
as contributors with Palisot de Beauvais and
James Woodhouse. Ellicott died, August 28, 1820,
in his 67th year. He published a Journal, with a
map of Ohio, Mississippi, and part of Florida.
Phila. 1803, 1814.

Ambroise Marie Francois Joseph Palisot de
Beauvais was born at Arras, in 1752. He was
educated at the college of Hareourt, in Paris, and
became Receiver-General of Territorial Imposts.
On the abolition of that office in 1777, he devoted
his attention exclusively to natural history, and in
1781 became a corresponding member of the Paris
Academy of Sciences. In pursuit of his favorite
studies he sailed to the coast of Guinea, with the
intention of making a journey across Africa to
Egj'pt, which he was unable to undertake. After
passing some time at Owara and Benin, he
sailed for St. Domingo, and arrived at Cap Fran-
cais in June, 1788. He remained on the island
in various positions connected with the govern-
ment, until the overthrow of the French rule by
the negroes. Having opposed the dominant
party he was obliged to fly, and escaping with
difficulty, landed at Philadelphia with the in-
tention of proceeding to France, but learning that
he had been proscribed as an emigrant, remained
in this country, where he supported himself as
a teacher of languages and musician, until the
arrival of the French minister, Adet, who, him-
self a man of science, enabled the botanist to

* Encyc. Amer. Darlington's Bartram. Allen's Am. Biog.
Diet

580

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

resume his studies in the new and inviting field
before him. He made several scientific tours
among and beyond the Alleghanies, and was
employed to arrange the collection in Peale's
Museum. On the receipt of permission he re-
turned to his native country, taking the extensive
collections he had formed with him. He became
a member of the Institute in 1806, and died,
January 21, 1820. He published Flore d' Oware
et de Benin, Paris. 1804-21, 2 vols, fob; In-
seetes recueillis en Afrxque et en Amerxqxie, 1805-
21, fob ; Fssai d'urxe nourelle Agrostographie
<m Nouxeaux Genres des Graminces, 1812, 4to.
and 8vo., all of which are illustrated.

James "Woodhouse was born in Philadelphia,
Nov. 17, 1770. He became Professor of Chemis-
try in the college of Philadelphia in 1795, and
published several works on that department of
science. lie died, June 4, 1809.

Several of the other authors of the Transactions
will appear at a later date as the founders of the
Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia.
The chief contributor to the recent volumes issued
by the Society, is Mr. Isaac C. Lea. Mr. Lea, a
native of Pennsylvania, has been long known as
a member of one of the most extensive publishing
houses of Philadelphia ; and after a most success-
ful career in business, has retired in favor of his
son, to devote the remainder of his lii'eto a study,
the pursuit of which occupied the leisure of his
earlier years.

His papers in the Transactions are very ex-
tensive, and finely illustrated ; they are devoted
to the description of the fresh water and land
shells chiefly of the United States, to the history
of which he has contributed more than any other
person. His synopsis of Vnionida; first printed
by the Society, but of which a revised edition
was published by the author in 1852, is at present
the standard work for the classification of these
objects, and has elicited many warm commenda-
tions from foreign and native conehologists. Other
works by Mr. Lea are, Contributions to Geology,
Philadelphia, 1833, and various papers in the
Journal and Proceedings of the Academy of
Natural Sciences

RUTGERS COLLEGE.
Tire clergy who accompanied the early Dutch
emigrants brought with them the same love of
learning which the Puritan divines had derived
from the Church of England. Connected with an
established church, within whose pale they were
contented, they had no occasion to form a new
organization to perpetuate their existence; and the
recruits to their numbers were drawn, like those
of the Episcopal clergy, from the mother coun-
try.

Like the Episcopalians, they soon experienced
the inconvenience of waiting the arrival of acces-
sions from Europe, or sending candidates for or-
dination across the ocean. A party soon arose
who were desirous that the power of ordination
should be conferred by the church in Holland on
its offspring of America. This party was known
as the "Coetus;" their opponents, who wished
the old order of arrangements to continue, were
known as the " Conference." The latter were
for some time in the ascendant, but the incon-

venience, delay, and expense of the voyage to and
from Europe, finally weighed so heavily on con-
gregations as well as clergy, that the Coetus party
resolved to establish a school of theology at New
Brunswick, New Jersey. A charter was obtained
incorporating the institution as Queen's College in
1770. Its Board of Trustees met near the court-
house of Bergen county, and elected the Kev. Dr.
Jacobus E. Hardenbergh the President.

While this matter wasjn progress a young stu-
dent of divinity, John H. Livingston, was pursuing
his studies preparatory to ordination in Holland,
and obtained from the Dutch church their consent
to a separate organization of the American congre-
gations on condition that the}7 should establish a
Theological Professorate," as the Church of Hol-
land could not and would not acknowledge and
maintain any connexion with a church which did
not provide herself with an educated ministry."*
Livingston was in due course ordained, and on his
return became minister of the Dutch church in
New York. This church, which had never been
identified with either of the contending parties,
at his suggestion sent forth in 1771 a circular
proposing a general convention to reconcile the
points at issue. The assembly met, the desired
union was effected, and Livingston unanimously
appointed Professor ot Divinity.

Dr. Hardenbergh remained president of the new
institution, which flourished under his care, until
his death in 1792. The college then suspended
its instructions until 1807, when a proposition
was made and adopted that the Theological Pro-
fessorate should be united with the college, whose
charter provided for a professorship of divinity'
and that the professor should be appointed presi-
dent. The union was effected, twenty thousand
dollars raised to endow the professorship created,
and in 1810 Dr. Livingston removed to New
Brunswick and entered upon his new duties. The
college was embarrassed in its finances, which
were barely sufficient to sustain "half a Pro-
fessorship of Mathematics and Natural Philoso-
phy." It received no aid from the state, and was
frequently compelled during the presidency of
Livingston, as in that of his predecessor, to close
its doors. Until the commencement of a college
building in 1809, its instructions had been given
in temporary localities, and as but one wing of
the contemplated edifice was completed its accom-
modations were limited. Dr. Livingston, the
new president, was a member of the eminent New
York family of that name, and was born in Pough-
keepsie in 1746, and a graduate of Yale in 1762.
His subsequent history has ahead}' been given.
He struggled manfully and hopefully with the
difficulties of his position, maintaining his office
as president with honor up to the time of his
death in January, 1825. Dr. Philip Milledoler
was his successor in the presidency and chair of
theology.

Philip Milledoler was born in the year 1775.
His parents were natives of Berne, Switzerland,
who emigrated to this country in early life and set-
tled in New York. Their son was graduated at
Columbia College, 1792. He studied theology,
and at the early age of nineteen was called to
the church in Nassau between Fulton and John

* The Rev. Abraham Polhemus's Alumni Address, 1S52, p. 6.

JOHN M. MASON.

581

streets. In 1800 lie reTioved to Philadelphia,
and in 1805 returned to New York and became
pastor of a newly es abl shed church in Rutgers
street, where he remained until 1825. On the
death of Dr. Livingston he was called to the chair
of didactic theology, and subse ptcntly to the Pre-
sidency of Rutgers College.

In 1835 he resigned his post in consequence of
his advancing years, and the remainder of his life
was passed in retirement. He died on the 22d
of September, 1852, and on the following day his
wire die I also. Undivided in death as in life, they
were buried together.

He was desirous of reviving the exercises of the
college which had been for some time suspended.
From the want of endowment it was of course
difficult to do so. The difficulty was overcome
in an ingenious and practical manner. A second
professorship in the theological school, which, al-
though connected with the college, was under the
control of the General Synod of the Dutch Re-
formed church, had just been endowed. Dr.
Milledoler proposed that a similar amount should
be raised for a third professorship, and that the
three incumbents should give their services gra-
tuitously to the college. His recently appointed
colleague, Dr. John De Witt, warmly seconded the
scheme, a subscription was started and the requi-
site means obtained, ten thousand dollars being
liberally contributed by the clergy of the denomi-
nation, many of them the recipients of but small
salaries. The Rev. Dr. Selah S. Woodhull was
elected to the Professorship of Ecclesiastical His-
tory and Church Government; but dying only
thres months after his appointment, the Rev. Dr.
Cannon became his successor. The faculty of let-
ters was then organized. The Professorship of
Moral Philosophy and the Evidences of Chris-
tianity was taken by the President, that of Belles
Lettres and Rhetoric by Dr. De Witt, and that of
Metaphysics and Philosophy of the Human Mind
by Dr. Cannon. To these were added Robert
Adrain, LL.D., in the department of Mathematics,
and the Rev. Dr. AV. C. Brownlee in the Latin
and Greek languages.

The name of the college was, about the time of
this reorganization, changed from Queen's to Rut-
gers. Dr. Adrain was succeeded in 1826 by
The idore Strong, LL.D., who still retains the
chair. In 1827, Dr. Brownlee accepting a call to
the Collegiate church of New York, was suc-
ceeded by Joseph Nelson, LL.D., the celebrated
blind teacher.

" The last named Professor," says the Rev. Mr.
Polhemus, " was at the time of his appointment,
and bad been for a number of years, totally blind ;
but with great powers of memory and thorough
acquaintance with the studies of his department,
he conducted the exercises of his room to the very
general improvement of his students and accept-
ance of the Board. I remember him well ; how
he would sit, with his thumb upon the dial of his
watch, marking the minutes as they passed, allow-
ing to each student his allotted portion, and the
facility with which he would instantly detect the
least mistake in the reading of the "text or the
translation. And I remember, too, that nice ear
by which, with his class sitting in alphabetical
order, lie would detect the location of the slightest
whisper; and when rebuking an individual by

name for the annoyance, it was rare indeed that
the person charged had an opportunity of entering
a protest against the justice of his suspicions."*

On Dr. Nelson's death in 1830, Dr. McClelland
succeeded to the professorship; and in 1831, on
his appointment to that of Dr. De Witt, was
succeeded by John D. Ogilby, who was followed
by the present professor, the Rev. Dr. Proudiit.
On the resignation of Dr. Milledoler in 18-10, the
Hon. A. Brnyn Ilasbrouck, LL.D., was made pre-
sident. Dr. Ilasbrouck resigning in 1850, was
succeeded by the present head of the college, the
Hon. Theodore Frelinghuysen, LL.D.

Theodore Frelinghuysen was born at Millstone,
Somerset County, New Jersey, March 28, 1787.
He is the son of Frederick Frelinghuysen, a mem-
ber of the Continental Congress, who, in 1777, re~
I signed his seat to join the- army, and served as
captain of a volunteer corps of artillery at Mon-
mouth and Trenton, and during the remainder of
the war as a captain of militia. In 1793 he was
chosen a Senator of the United States.

The son completed his classical education at
Princeton in 1804, and then studied law in the
office cjjtm elder brother until he became of age,
when he was admitted to practice. He followed
the profession with great success, and in 1S17
was appointed attorney-general of the state. He
held the office until his election as United States
Senator in 1820. He remained in the senato
until 1835. In 1S3S he was chosen Chancellor
of the University of the City of New York. In
May, 1844, he was nominated by the Baltimore
Convention as the Whig candidate for the Vice-
Presidency. The cry of Clay and Frelinghuysen
will be long remembered in the history of the
country as that of a great party in one of tho
greatest struggles which has ever preceded a pre-
sidential election. In 1850 Mr. Frelinghuysen
re-igned the chancellorship of the University in
favor of the presidency of Rutgers College.

Mr. Frelinghuysen is also at the head of the
Board of Missions and the Bible Society, esta-
blished by several of the leading denominations
of the United States, and has throughout his lifo
been as active and prominent in religious and phi-
lanthropic as in political and academic effort.

The college has recently received an addition to
its endowment of $28,000 from various donations.
§25,000 have also been contributed to the samo
ol iject by the Collegiate church of the city of New
York.

JOHN M. MASON.

In the church history of xVmcrica there are few
persons who have excited more interest in their
day than John M. Mason. He was born in tho

l/7 <^ i/£- c^P^h^^^,

city of New York March 19, 1770, was a graduato
of Columbia College, and instructed in theology

* Address before the Aluumi Association of Rutgers College,
July 27, 1S62.

582

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

by his father, a minister of the Scottish church.
He continued his education at Edinburgh, and in
1792 succeeded his father as preacher in his church
in New York. During his ministerial career in
the city, he was associated from 1811 to 1816
with the government of Columbia College with
the title of Provost. The college statutes adopted
in 1811, and subsequently during his administra-
tion, and the report in 1810 on the state of the
college, attributed to his pen, which is a vigorous
presentment of college duties and discipline, show
his high qualifications for the labors of this office.
He visited Europe for his health in 1816. He
suffered after his return from paralytic attacks,
by which his constitution was much enfeebled.
He .was President of Dickinson College for three
years from 1821 ; returned to New York, and died
December 27, 1829, at the age of fifty -nine. His
reputation for a certain full, robust eloquence was
great. He was powerful as a preacher, a contro-
versialist, and in his practical talent. He had a
controversy with Bishop Hobart in the " Chris-
tian Magazine," which he edited. His advocacy
of open communion gained him distinction in the
religious world. His orations of the most general
interest were on the death of Washington and of
Hamilton. His -writings, consisting chiefly of ser-
mons, were collected in four octavo volumes by
his son.*

Mason meditated a life of Hamilton, of whose
principles and character he was a great admirer.
Yerplanck has paid a handsome tribute to his
powers in a college oration delivered shortly after
his death. He speaks of his scholarship, of his
"rare union of intimate acquaintance with books
and deep learning in the spirits and ways of men,"
of his eloquence, " powerful, impressive, peculiar,
original," as'it was exhibited in his unwritten dis-
courses from the pulpit, where " he was wont to
pour forth the overwhelming opulence of his mind
in irregular but magnificent profusion, laying alike
under contribution to his object, theological learn-
ing, classic lore, and the literature of the day;
illustrating the conclusions of the logician by acute
observations upon life and manners ; alternately
convincing the reason, and searching and probing
the deep recesses of the conscience ; now drawing
moral lessons from the history of the long-buried
past, and now commenting upon the events or the
vices of the day, or perhaps the follies of the
hour ; now lifting aloft the blazing torch of Chris-
tian philosophy to guide the honest seeker after
truth, and now showering his withering scorn
upon the scoffer's head ; explaining, defending,
deducing, enforcing his doctrines or precepts,
sometimes with colloquial familiarity, and then
again in a bold and swelling eloquence, which
stirred and warmed the heart like the sound of a
trumpet.''t

FROM THE TOTfEP.AT, OBATTON ON WASHINGTON.

The name of Washington, connected with all that
is rnosfT brilliant in the history of our country and in
human character, awakens sensations which agitate

* The Writings of the late John M. Mason, D.D., consisting
of Sermons, Essays, and Miscellanies, including Essays already
published in the Christian Magazine. In 4 vols., selected and
arranged by the Rev. Ebenezer Mason. New York. Pub-
lished by the Editor. 1832.

t Address before the Philolexian and Peithologian Societies,
1830, by Gulian C. Yerplanck.

the fervors of youth, and warm the chill bosom of
age. Transported to the times when America rose
to repel her wrongs and to claim her destinies, a
scene of boundless grandeur bursts upon our view.
Long had her filial duty expostulated with parental
injustice. Long did she deprecate the rupture of
those ties which she had been proud of preserving
and displaying. But her humble entreaty spurned,
aggression fullowed by the rod, and the rod by scor-
pions, having changed remonstrance into murmur,
and murmur into resistance, she transfers her grie-
vances from the throne of earth to the throne of
heaven, and precedes by an appeal to the God of
battles her appeal to the sword of war. At issue
now with the mistress of the seas — unfurnished with
equal means of defence — the convulsive shock ap-
proaching— and every evil omen passing before her
— one step of rashness or of folly may seal her doom.
In this accumulation of trouble, who shall command
her confidence, and face her dangers, and conduct
her cause? God, whose kingdom ruleth over all,
prepares from afar the instruments best adapted to
his purpose. By an influence which it would be as
irrational to dispute as it is vain to scrutinize, he
stirs up the spirit of the statesman and the soldier.
Minds, on which he has bestowed the elements of
greatness, are brought by his providence into contact
with exigencies which rouse them into action. It is
in the season of effort and of peril that impotence
disappears and energy arises. The whirlwind which
sweeps away the glowworm, uncovers the fire of
genius, and kindles it into a blaze that irradiates at
once both the zenith and the poles. But among the
heroes who sprung from obscurity when the college,
the counting-house, and the plough, teemed with
" thunderbolts of war," none could, in all respects,
meet the wants and the wishes of America. She re-
quired, in her leader, a. man reared under her own
eye ; who combined with distinguished talent a cha-
racter above suspicion ; who had added to his phy-
sical and moral qualities the experience of difficult
service; a man who should concentrate in himself
the public affections and confidences ; who should
know how to multiply the energies of every other
man under his direction, and to make disaster itself
the means of success — his arm a fortress, and his
name a host. Such a man it were almost presump-
tion to expect ; but such a man all-ruling Heaven
had provided, and that man was Washington.

Pre-eminent already in worth, he is summoned by
his country to the pre-eminence of toil and of danger.
Unallured by the charms of opulence — unappalled
by the hazard of a dubious warfare — unmoved by
the prospect of being, in the event of failure, the first
and most conspicuous victim, he obeys her mandate
because he loves his duty. The resolve is firm, for
the probation is terrible. His theatre is a world;
his charge, a family of nations; the interest staked
in his hands, the prosperity of millions unborn in
ages to come. His means, under aid from on high,
the resources of his own breast, with the raw recruits
and irregular supplies of distracted colonies. 0
crisis worthy of such a hero ! Followed by her little
bands, her prayers, and her tears, Washington es-
pouses the quarrel of his country. As he moves on
to the conflict, every heart palpitates and every knee
trembles. The foe, alike valiant and veteran, pre-
sents no easy conquest, nor aught inviting but to
those who had consecrated their blood to the public
weal. The Omnipotent, who allots great enjoyment
as the meed of great exertion, had ordained that
America should be free, but that she should learn to
value the blessing by the price of its acquisition.
She shall go to a " wealthy place," but her way is
" through fire and through water." Many a gene-

JOHN M. MASON.

583

rous chief must bleed, and many a gallant youth
einlc, at his side, into the surprised grave ; the field
must be heaped with slain, the purple torrent must
roll, ere tlie angel of peace descend with his olive.
It is here, amid devastation, and horror, and death,
that Washington must reap his laurels, and engrave
his trophies on the shields of immortality. Shall
Delaware and Princeton? Shall Monmouth and
York ? — But I may not particularize ; far less repeat
the tale which babes recite, which poets sing, and
Fame has published to a listening world. Every
scene of his action was a scene of his triumph. Now
he saved the republic by more than Fabian caution ;
now he avenged her by more than Carthaginian
fierceness; while at every stroke her forests and her
hills re-echoed to her shout, " The sword of the Lord
and of Washington!" Nor was this the vain ap-
plause of partiality and enthusiasm. The blasted
schemes of Britain, her broken and her captive hosts,
proclaimed the terror of his arms. Skilled were her
chiefs, and brave her legions ; but bravery and skill
rendered them a conquest more worthy of Washing-
ton. True, he suffered in his turn repulse, and even de-
feat. It was both natural and needful. Unchequered
with reverse, his story would have resembled rather
the fictions of romance than the truth of narrative;
and had he been neither defeated nor repulsed, we
had never seen all the grandeur of his soul. He ar-
rayed himself in fresh honors by that which ruins
even the great — vicissitude. He could not only
subdue an enemy, but, what is infinitely more, he
could subdue misfortune. With an equanimity which
gave temperance to victory, and cheerfulness to dis-
aster, he balanced the fortunes of the state. In the
face of hostile prowess; in the midst of mutiny and
treason ; surrounded with astonishment, irresolution,
and despondence; Washington remained erect, un-
moved, invincible. Whatever ills America might
endure in maintaining her rights, she exulted that
she had nothing to fear from her commander-in-
chief. The event justified her most sanguine pre-
sages. That invisible hand which girded him at
first, continued to guard and to guide him through
the successive stages of the revolution. Nor did he
account it a weakness to bend the knee in homage
to its supremacy, and prayer for its direction. This
was the armor of Washington ; this the salvation of
bis country.
******** *

It must ever be difficult to compare the merits of
Washington's character, because he always ap-
peared greatest in that which he last sustained.
Yet if there is a preference, it must be assigned to
the Lieutenant-General of the armies of America.
Not because the duties of that station were more ar-
duous than those which he had often performed, but
because it more full}' displayed his magnanimity.
While others become great by elevation, Washington
becomes greater by condescension. Matchless pa-
triot! to stoop, on public motives, to an inferior
appointment* after possessing and dignifying the
highestorfices ! Thrice favored country, which boasts
of such a citizen ! We gaze with astonishment ; we
exult that we are Americans. We augur every
thing great, and good, and happy. But whence this
sudden horror ? What means that cry of agony ?
Oh ! 'tis the shriek of America ! The fairy vision is
fled : Washington is — no more !

How are the mighty fallen, and the weapons of war
perished !

Daughters of America, who erst prepared the
festal bower and the laurel wreath, plant now the
cypress grove, and water it with tears.

Horn are the mighty fallen, and the weapons of war
perished!

The death of Washington, Americans, has revealed
the extent of our loss. It has given us the final proof
that we never mistook him. Take his affecting tes-
tament, and read the secrets of his soul. Read all
the power of domestic virtue. Read his strong love
of letters and of liberty. Read his fidelity to repub-
lican principle, and his jealousy of national character.
Read his devotedness to you in his military bequests
to near relations. "These swords," they are the
words of Washington, " these swords are accom-
panied with an injunction not to unsheathe them for
the purpose of shedding blood, except it be for self-
defence, or in defence of their country and its rights ;
and in the latter case, to keep them unsheathed, and
prefer falling with them in their hands to the relin-
quishment thereof."

In his acts, Americans, you have seen the man.
In the complicated excellence of character he stands
alone. Let no future Plutarch attempt the iniquity
of parallel. Let no soldier of fortune ; let no usurp-
ing conqueror ; let not Alexander or Csesar ; let not
Cromwell or Bonaparte ; let none among the dead
or the living ; appear in the same picture with
Washington ; or let them appear as the shade to his
light.

On this subject, my countrymen, it is for others to
speculate, but it is for us to feel. Yet-in propor-
tion to the severity of the stroke ought to be our
thankfulness that it was not inflicted sooner. Through
a long series of years has God preserved our Wash-
ington a public blessing ; and now that he has re-
moved him for ever, shall we presume to say, Wliat
doest thou? Never did the tomb preach more pow-
erfully the dependence of all things on the will of
the Most High. The greatest of mortals crumble
into dust the moment he commands, Return, ye chil-
dren of men. Washington was but the instrument
of a benignant God. He sickens, he dies, that we
may learn not to trust in men, nor to make flesh our
arm. But though Washington is dead, Jehovah
lives. God of our fathers! be our God, and the God
of our children ! Thou art our refuge and our hope ;
the pillar of our strength ; the wall of our defence,
and our unfading glory !

Americans ! This God, who raised up Washington
and gave you liberty, exacts from you the duty of
cherishing it with a zeal according to knowledge.
Never sully, by apathy or by outrage, your fair in-
heritance. Risk not, for one moment, on visionary
theories, the solid blessings of your lot. To you,
particularly, O youth of America ! applies the so-
lemn charge. In all the perils of your country
remember Washington. The freedom of reason and
of right has been handed down to you on the point
of the hero's sword. Guard with veneration the
sacred deposit. The curse of ages will rest upon
you, 0 youth of America ! if ever you surrender to
foreign ambition, or domestic lawlessness, the pre-
cious liberties for which Washington fought, and
your fathers bled.

I cannot part with you, fellow-citizens, without
urging the long remembrance of our present assem-
bly. This day we wipe away the reproach of repub-
lics, that they know not how to be grateful. In
your treatment of living patriots, recall your love
and your regret of Washington. Let not future in-
consistency charge this day with hypocrisy. Happy
America, if she gives an instance of universal prin-
ciple in her sorrows for the man, " first in war, first
in peace, and first in the affections of his country !"

JOSEPH HOPKINSON,
The author of Hail Columbia, was born at Phila-
delphia, November 12, 1770. He was the son

584

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMEEICAN LITERATURE.

of Francis Hopkinson, of whom we have before
spoken. He was educated at the University of
Pennsylvania, and studied law with Judge Wilson
and William Pwawle. He commenced the practice
of his profession at Enston; but soon returned to
Philadelphia, where he acquired high distinction
as a lawyer. He was counsel for Rush in his li-
bel suit against Cobbett; and for Judge Chase of
the Supreme Court of the United States, on the
impeachment of that officer by the Senate. He
was a member of the House of Representatives
from 1815 to 181 9, where he opposed there-charter
of the United States Bank, and maintained a high
position as a speaker.

/

VZct^

After a three years' residence at Bordentown,
New Jersey, at the conclusion of his congressional
career, he removed again to Philadelphia, where
he was appointed in 1828, by President Adams,
Judge of the United States District Court, an of-
fice held by his grandfather under the British
Crown, and to which his father bad been chosen
on the organization of the judiciary in 1789. He
retained this office until his death, January 15,
1842.

In addition to his professional duties, Judge
Hopkinson filled the office of Vice-President of
the American Philosophical Society and President
of the Philadelphia Academy of the Fine Arts, an
institution which owes its foundation to Ins exer-
tions. He was a warm friend of education, and
delivered several addresses before literary socie-
ties. The circumstances under which his famous
national song was written, are pleasantly describ-
ed by its author in answer to a request for such
information made several years after its composi-
tion.

HISTORY OF THE SONG OF HAIL COLUMBIA.

This Song was written in the summer of 1798,
when a war with France was thought to be inevita-
ble, Congress being then in session in Philadelphia,
deliberating upon that important subject, and acts
of hostility having actually occurred. The contest
between England and France was raging, and the
people of the United States were divided into par-

ties for the one side or the other ; some thinking that
policy and duty required us to take part with re-
publican France, as the war was called ; others were
for our connecting ourselves with England, under
the belief that she was the great preservative power
of good principles and safe government. The viola-
tion of our rights b}r both belligerents was forcing us
from the just and wise policy of President Washington,
which was to do equal justice to both, to take part
with neither, but to keep a strict and honest neutra-
lity between them. The prospect of a rupture with
France was exceedingly offensive to the portion of
the people which espoused her cause, and the vio-
lence of the spirit of party has never risen higher,
I think not so high, :is it did at that time on that
question. The theatre was then open in our city:
a young man belonging to it, whose talent was as a
singer, was about to take his benefit. I had known
him when he was at school. On this acquaintance,
he called on me on Saturday afternoon, his benefit
being announced for the following Monday. He
said he had twenty boxes taken, and his prospect
was that he should suffer a loss instead of receiving
a benefit from the perfonnai.ee; but that if he could
get a patriotic song adapted to the tune of the " Pre-
sident's March," then the popular air, he did not
doubt of a full house ; that the poets of the theatrical
corps had been trying to accomplish it, but were
satisfied that no words could be composed to suit
the music of that march. I told him I would try
for him. He came the next afternoon, and the song,
such as it is, was ready for him. It was announced
on Monday morning, and the theatre was crowded
to excess, and so continued, night after night, for the
rest of the whole season, the song being encored and
repeated many times each night, the audience joining
in the chorus. It was also sung at night in the
streets by large assemblies of citizens, including
members of Coi gross. The enthusiasm was general,
and the song was heard, I may say, in every part of
the United States.

The object of the author was to get up an Ameri-
can spirit, which should be independent of and
above the interests, passions, and policy of both bel-
ligerents, and look and feel exclusively for our own
honour and rights. Rot an allusion is made either
to France or England, or the quarrel between them,
or to what was the most in fault in their treatment
of us. Of course the song found favour with both
parties — at least neither could 'disown the senti-
ments it inculcated. It was truly American and
nothing eke, a.;d the patriotic feelings of every
American heart responded to it.

Such is the history of the soi g, which has endured
infinitely be\*ond any expectation of the author, and
beyond any merit it can boast of, except that of be-
ing truly and exclusively patriotic in its sentiments
and spirit.

The foregoing was written (Aug. 24, 1840), for the
" Wyoming Band" at Wilkesbarre, who had request-
ed the author to give them an account of the occa-
sion for which " Hail Columbia " was composed.

HAIL COLUMBIA.

Tune — " President's Jfarch."
Hail, Columbia! happy land !
Hail, ye heroes! heaven-born band!

Who fought and bled in Freedom's cause,

Who fought and bled in Freedom's cause.
And when the storm of war was gone,
Enjoy'd the peace your valour won.

Let independence be our boast,

Ever mindful what it cost;

Ever grateful for the prize,

Let its altar reach the slues.

WILLIAM MARTIN JOHNSON.

585

Firm — united — let us be,
Raiding round oar Liberty;
As ii band ol brothers joiu'd,
Peace and safety we shall find.

Immortal patriots ! rise once more :
Defe.id your rights, defend your shore:

Let no rude foe, with impious hand,

Let no rude foe, with impious hand,
| Invade the shrine where sacred lies
Of toil and blood the well-earu'd prize.

Wuile offering peace sincere and just,

In Heaven we place a manly trust,

That truth and justice will prevail,

And every scheme of bondage fail.
Firm — united, <fce.

Sound, sound, the trump of Fame!

Let Washington's great name

Ring through the world with loud applause,
Ring through the world with loud applause:

Let every clime to Freedom dear,

Listen with a joyful ear.

With equal skill, and godlike power,
He goveru'd in the fearful hour
Ol horrid war; or glides, with ease,
The happier times ot honest peace.
Firm — united, &a.

Behold the chief who now commands,
Once more to serve his country, stands —
The mek on which the storm will beat;
The rock on which the storm will beat.
But, arnfd in virtue firm and true,
H.s hopes aie fix'd on Heaven and you.
When hope was sinking in dismay,
And glooms obscured Columbia's day,
His stea ly mind, from changes free,
Resolved on death or liberty.
Firm — united, ifee.

WILLIAM MARTIN JOHXSON.

In the village of Wrentham, Mass., there lived
about the outbreak of the Revolutionary War a
sea-captain, who had retired on a moderate in-
come, by the name of Albee, He had no children
of his own, and feeling lonesome in his isolation,
proposed to a vagabond couple who were oc-
casionally beggars at his door, a-; they were at
the doors of many a house of many a town of
Massachusetts and Connecticut, to adopt a bright
looking hoy whom they carried about with them,
and called their son. The worthy couple an-
swered, in the intervals when they were sober
enough to answer anything, to the name of John-
eon. They accepted the captain's proposal, the
father with great joy, the mother with many
tears, visited the boy occasionally afterwards, but
finally disappeared.

The captain was in the main a good guardian,
though he was apt also to get drunk, and when
drunk apply the rope's end with more vigor than
discretion about the person of young Johnson.
He, however, taught him all he knew himself, and
sent him to school to learn more. In this way ho
picked up some Latin and Greek before his six-
teenth year, when he was placed in a store in
Boston. He did not remain long, however, be-
hind the counter, but commenced business on his
own account as an itinerant schoolmaster, now
and then visiting Wrentham, on one occasion in
the garb of a sailor, " bearing," says his bio-
grapher, " both in his dress and person, marks of
ill-usage at sea." The following scrap of verse

found among his papers, in his early hand-writing,
probably refers to this venture.

God's miracles I'll praise on shore,

And there his blessings reap;
But from this moment seek no more

His wonders on the deep.

In 1790, when about the age of nineteen, he
was at the head of the village school of Bridge-
hainpton, Long Island. lie saved a little money,
and finding his way to East Hampton, six: miles
distant, commenced the study of medicine with
Dr. Sage, a physician of that place; After his
funds were exhausted, he supported himself by
working for a cabinet-maker two days in the
week, in payment for his board during the entire
seven.

After two years at East Hampton, a good por-
tion of which seems to have been spent in verse
and love as well as cabinet-making, Johnson came
to New York to seek his fortune. He continued
the study of medicine after his arrival with Dr.
Amasa Dingley, supporting himself as well as
lie could as a writer of newspaper paragraphs
(which, judging from the meagreness of the papers
of that day, must have afforded equally meagre
means of sustenance), and as a teacher. During
this period, almost of destitution, he was tempted
by a publisher's offer to translate one of the infi-
del books then in vogue in France, the " Christian-
isme Dvoilie" of Bonlanger. He regretted this
act afterwards. " I do not believe," he wrote to
a friend, " that Boulanger's sentiments c inoernihg
the Christian religion are just. I believe the
most prominent features of the monster in ques-
tion, are sophistry and rancour." " Persuasion
and poverty," he says in the same letter, "in-
duced me to translate this work of Bonlanger."

Soon after this having in the meantime nar-
rowly escaped death from an attack of yellow
fever, he received a proposal from Dr. Robert
Brownlield, of Georgetown, S. C, to enter into
a medical partnership at that place. He accepted
the offer, the more readily as he was desirous of
placing himself in a position which would justify
him, by providing means of support, in asking
the hand of a lady to whom he had become at-
tached, and arrived at the place in February,
1706. He was successful in the practice of his
profe -si on, and seemed on the point of securing
Ids wishes, when he was attacked by a fever in
the autumn after his arrival. His constitution
had been previously impaired by illness, and lie
remained an invalid during the winter. In June
he was again seized, and at last, yielding to the
entreaties of bis friend Dr. Brownfield, made a
visit to the North for the benefit of his health.
On his arrival at New York in August, he went
to Jamaica, Long Island. Here his old friends
soon surrounded him. But a short time only
remained for the exercise of their affection, hii
death occurring on the twenty-first of September
following.

Our knowledge of Johnson is derived from two
of a series of articles by John Howard Payne, on
" Our Neglected Poets," to which we are also
indebted for our specimens of his productions,
few of which appear to have attained the honors
of newspaper, much less collective publication.
They deserve a better fate than the " neglect"

586

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

they have experienced, for they display many
beauties of thought and expression.

ON A 8NOW-FLAKE FALLING ON A LADY'S BBEAST.

To kiss my Celia's fairer breast,

The snow forsakes its native skies,
But proving an unwelcome guest,

It grieves, dissolves in tears, and dies.

Its touch, like mine, but serves to wake
Through all her frame a death-like chill, —

Its tears, like those I shed, to make
That icy bosom colder still.

I blame her not : from Celia's eyes

A common fate beholders proved —
Each swam, each fair one, weeps and dies. —

With envy these, and those with love !

Now grim amidst his gathering glooms,

Lo ! angry AVinter rushes forth :
Destruction with the despot comes,

And all the tempests of the north.

What time he thunders o'er the heath,
Each scene, that charm'd, in terror flies,

Creation feels his gelid breath,
Affrighted nature shrieks and dies.

Perplex' d and sad, these scenes among,
The pondering soul, with fainting steps.

Quite sick of being, plods along,
And o'er the mighty ruin weeps.

Or lifts the longing eye, and sighs
For milder climes and lovelier meads,

A vernal hour, that never flies,

And flowers, that rear immortal heads;

Where ne'er, unchain'd, the maniac blast

Scours the bleak heavens, with hideous scream :

Where skies of sapphire, ne'er o'ercast,
Incessant pour the golden beam.

'Tis May ! no more the huntsman finds

The lingering snow behind the hill ;
Her swelling bosom pregnant earth unbinds,

And love and joycreation fill.

Over the glassy streamlet's brink,

Young verdures peep, themselves to view;

At noon the tipsied insects sit and drink
From flowery cups the honeyed dew.

Deep crimsoned in the dyes of spring,

On every side broad orchards rise.
Soft waving to the breeze's balmy wing,

Like dancing lights in northern skies.

In ditties wild, devoid of thought,

The robin through the day descants,
The pensive whip-poor-will, behind the cot

Her dirge, at evening, sadly ehaunts.

Queen of the months, soft blushing May !

Forever bright, forever dear,
Oh, let our prayers prolong thy little stay,

And exile winter from the year.

Life, love, and joy, to thee belong, —

Thee fly the storm and lurid cloud,
Thou givest the heavens their blue, the groves their
song,

Thou com'st, and nature laughs aloud.

Let prouder swains forsake the cell

In arms, or arts, to rise and shine, —
I blame them not — alas ! I wish them well —

But May and solitude be mine !

Clad with the moss of gathering years,
The stone of fame shall moulder down,

Long dried from soft affection's tears,
Its place unheeded and unknown.

Ah ! who would strive for fame that flies
Like forms of mist before the gale?

Renown but breathes before it dies, —
A meteor's path ! an idiot's tale 1

Beneath retirement's sheltering wing,
From mad conflicting crowds remote,

Beside some grove-encircled spring,
Let wisdom build your humble cot :

There clasp your fair one to your breast,
Your eyes impearl'd with transport's tear,

By turns caressing and carest, —
Your infant prattlers sporting near.

Content your humble board shall dress,
And poverty shall guard your door, —

Of wealth and fame, if you have less
Than monarchs, you of bliss have more.

EPITAPH ON A LADY.

Here sleep in dust, and wait the Almighty's will,
Then rise unehang'd, and be an angel still.

CHABLES BEOCEDEN BKOWN.

It is somewhat remarkable that the first of our
novelists, as well as the first of our painters,
should have sprung from a sect, which in princi-
ple and practice manifests a repugnance rather
than sympathy with the products of the imagi-
nation. Charles Brockden Brown was, like Ben-
jamin West, of Quaker lineage, his ancestors
having emigrated to Pennsylvania in the same
ship which brought William Penn to her shores.
He was born in Philadelphia on the seventeenth
of January, 1771. His middle name was derived
from his uncle, who was settled in this country at
an early period, under somewhat peculiar circum-
stances. This relative was brought up in Eng-
land as a student in the office of a lawyer who
was disaffected to the government of the reigning
monarch, Charles II. While pursuing his studies
he accidentally overheard a conversation between
his employer and a number of other persons, in
which a plot against thegovernment was broached.
At the close of the conference the auditor was
discovered. A number urged that he should be
put to death, but his life was spared by the law-
yer's assertion that the youth was of too feeble
intellectual capacity to make use of his knowledge.
It was then decided that he should be sent out of
the country, but the project was not executed
until. some time after, when some circumstances
had re-excited the fears of the conspirators. He
was shipped to Philadelphia, where he rapidly
rose to official eminence. He was the "skilful
conveyancer" and "great scrivener" who drew
up the articles of agreement of the Philadelphia
Librar}- for Benjamin Franklin, who records the
fact, in 1731.

The early years of the future novelist were
marked by intellectual precocity and physical
weakness. He found food in books for the crav-
ings caused by the one, and a solace for the de-
privations entailed by the other. When but an
infant he could be safely left without other com-
panion than a picture-book, which would engross

CHARLES BROCKDEN BROWN.

58T

his attention so completely as to exclude all ideas
of mischief and apprehensions of danger. A few
years after he would be found in his stockings
(an instance of cautious neatness characteristic of
Quaker training) mounted on a table in order to
trace out the courses of rivers and mountains, on
a large map suspended to the wall. This was so
favorite a study with him that at the age of ten
he could answer any geographical question started
in the family. It was a taste which continued
through life; one of the works on which he
was employed at the time of his death being a
treatise on this same subject. General literature
was, however, equally attractive, as he devoured
the contents of every book he could lay his
hands upon.

A characteristic anecdote is related of him
when at the age of ten years. " Why does he
call me boy?" said he, referring to a. visitor, who
had just left the room, and had thus addressed
him in contemptuous reproof for some question or
remark; "does he not know that it is neither size
nor age, but understanding, that makes the man?
I could ask him an hundred questions, none of
which he could answer."

At the age of eleven he entered the school of
Robert Proud, a renowned teacher of those days.
He remained here five years, pursuing classical
studies with such ardor that his slight physical
frame o 'ten broke down under his exertions. His
periods of relaxation were not, however, passed in
inaction. He followed the good advice of his
instructor to turn for a while his back on the city
as well as the school, and recruit in the pure coun-
try air. The excursions consequently performed
were generally pedestrian, and were conducive to
mental as well as physical strength ; though, as he
was usually without i companion, they served
somewhat to confirm bin] in a reserved habit of
mind. A passion for verse-making succeeded the
regular duties of school. He laid Virgil and
Homer on the shelf only to endeavor to rival
their labors by his own. lie had three historical
poems planned out, one on the Discovery of Ame-
rica, another on Oortez, and a third devoted to
Pizarro. Epic writing, however, happily proved
but a passing fancy with him.

One of his early poetical attempts met with
an amusing mishap. It was an Address to
Franklin, hut the printer of the periodical in
which it appeared saw fit to insert through-
out, in place of the author's hero, the name
of Washington. " Washington," he says in his
journal, "therefore stands arrayed in awkward
colours. Philosophy smiles to behold her darling
son; she turns with horror and disgust from
those who have won the laurel of victory in the
field of battle, to this, her favourite candidate, who
had never participated in such bloody glory, and
whose fame was derived from the conquests of
philosophy alone." We next hear of Brown as a
law student in the office of Alexander Wilson, a
leading member of the Philadelphia bar. The
study was as discordant with his mental as its
practice with his personal habits. He appears,
however, to have at first taken hold of the pro-
fession with ardor as he became a member of a
law society, bore a leading part in its foren-
sic debates, and was elected its President. This
association, however, soon had a rival in the for-

mation of the " Belles Lettres Club," of which
Brown, who was at first averse to the project,
soon became the leader. He was conscientiously
active in both of these associations, and his deci-
sions in the cases brought before the first named
association show that his mind waswell fitted for
the legal profession. But directly after the com-
pletion of one of these decisions, says one of his
friends, "he gave vent to his fancy in a poetical
effusion, as much distinguished by its wild and
eccentric brilliancy as the other composition was
for its plain sobriety and gravity of style." This
anecdote shows the bias of his tastes, and fore-
shadows the determination arrived at on the con-
clusion of his studies — the abandonment of law
for literature.

The change was one regretted by his family,
who had no fortune on which he could fall back
from the hazards of an author's career for sup-
port; but it was not the wilful prosecution of a
whim on the part of Brown. With a view to
the improvement of his style he had for some
time past kept a daily record of his thoughts and
experiences, in which he copied the letters he
wrote to his friends and those which he received
in return — a practice somewhat similar to that of
the inveterate journalizer, Haydon, the painter,
who pasted all the letters addressed to him in the
ample pages of his folio records. He had tested
his intellectual powers in his club compositions,
and in a series of essays under the appropriate
title of The Bhapsodist, which were published in
1789 in the " Columbus Magazine." Their recep-
tion had given him confidence in his intellectual
resources. A distrust of his qualifications for the
more active legal career was doubtless an equally
or more exciting cause of his determination.
The decision must, however, be regarded, as it
seems to have afterwards been by its author, as
an unfortunate one. The demands of a profession
were precisely those which he needed to cure his
shyness, call him from a too retired mode of life,
a constant habit of introspection and revery,
which he indulged to an injurious extent, and
which an exclusively literary career tended, as
I his works prove, to foster rather than combat.

Hue credit must at the same time be given to
him for resolution and bravery. He was not only
the first person in America who ventured to pur-
sue literature as a profession, but almost the first
to make an attempt in the field of imaginative
writing, disconnected with the advocacy of any
question of national or local interest.

He sought relief from the doubts and anxieties
incident to this change of his plans in a journey
to New York to visit his intimate friend Dr.
Elihu Hubbard Smith, with whom he had become
acquainted while the latter was prosecuting his
medical studies at Philadelphia. He was intro-
duced by this gentleman to William Dunlap, the
painter and author, and to most of the leading
literary and scientific men of the city, many of
whom met at a weekly reunion under the pleasant
title of the "Friendly Club,"* of which Brown,
who seems to have deserved the epithet of Dr.
Johnson, that of being a " dutiable man," soon
became a member. Owing, doubtless, to the at-
tractiveness of the choice literary society of these

Vide ante, p. 570.

588

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

gentlemen, our author's visits to New York were
more and more prolonged, and following one .ano-
ther at less and less intervals, he virtually became
a resident of the city.

A letter published in the " Literary Magazine"
written about this time, descriptive of a journey
to Bockaway, contains a pleasant and curious
description of that celebrated watering-place,
which he speaks of as at that time "a place of
fashionable resort."

He wrote in the fall and winter of 1797 a work
which he refers to in his journal as " the dialogue
of Alcuin, in which the topic of Marriage is dis-
cussed with some degree of subtlety, at least."
It was pnl lished in the same year, but its crude
and hazardous theories on the subject of divorce
and other social topics excited little attention, and
were abandoned by the author as he grew wiser
and older. He also speaks in his journal of
having commenced a novel in a series of letters,
which was never completed.

During the summer of 1798 the yellow fever
broke out in New York. Brown, unwilling to
lose the society of his friend Smith, in whose
house he was then resident, determined to remain
in the city, relying for security, as he states in a
letter to his brother James, on his mode of living,
"from which animal food and spirituous liquors
are wholly excluded." He also relied on the re-
moteness of his residence from the infected dis-
trict. The latter advantage was neutralized by
the humane conduct of himself and Dr. Smith in
removing the friend of the latter, Seandella, an
Italian gentleman, who was attacked by the dis-
ease, to their home, where he soon after died.
13oth friends caught the infection ; but Smith fell,
and Drown recovered.

His correspondence bears touching evidence of
/lis sorrow for the loss of his friend, and his novel
of Arthur Mervyn gives a similar testimony of the
lasting effect which his experience as an eye-
witness of and sufferer from the pestilence here
and in his native city in 1793 made upon him.

We next hear of a magazine projected by
Brown. It does not seem to have got out of the
limbo of castle-building, although the requisites
to insure success are moderate. They are thus
stated in a letter to bis brother Arnrit, and aro
interesting as an item of literary history:

" Four hundred subscribers will repay the an-
nual expense of sixteen hundred dollars. As
60on as this number is obtained, the printers will
begin, and trust" to the punctual payment of these
for reimbursement. All above four hundred will
be clear profit to me; one thousand subscribers
will produce four thousand five hundred dollars,
and deducting the annual expense will leave two
thousand seven hundred."

We find him in 1798 contributing a series of
papers entitled The Man at Home to the "Weekly
Magazine,"* a miscellany of some merit. These
papers have a connecting thread of story, but are
for the most part occupied with reflections on
men and society. They extend through the first
volume, and are followed in the second by his
novel of Arthur Mervyn.

* The Weekly Magazine of Original Essays. Fndtive Pieces,
and Interesting Intelligence. Phila. : James Walters. 8vo.
pp. 82. It appears to have been continued a little over a year.

The projected magazine gave way to a scries of
fiu' greater importance, not only to the reputation
of the author but to that of the literature of his
country. His first step, however, in the career
which was to make him famous was arrested by
an annoying mishap. The story is worth relating
as it shows the obstacles with which authorship
in America had to struggle in its infancy. Brown
wrote his first novel, bearing the title of Sky
Wall; or the Man Unknown to Himself* The
printer who had engaged to print the work and
look to its sale for his pay, died when his ta^k
was nearly completed. His executors refused to
fulfil the contract or to sell the printed sheets at
the price the author's friends offered for them,
and thus " Sky Walk" was denied a terrestrial
career. The f.ite of the sheets is unknown.
Brown, who, judging from the number of his
fragmentary manuscripts as well as the incom-
plete nature of his published works, wrote quite
as much to please himself as the public, did not
probably take the matter to heart, and afterwards
incorporated portions of his ill-fated novel in
Edgar Huntley.

In the year 1798 his Wieland appeared. It
was published in a duodecimo volume of some
throe hundred pages by T. & J. Swords and H.
Caritat. Its success was immediate, and so stimu-
lating to its author that in the December after its
publication he wrote Ormond. The publication of
this second novel in New York, 1799, was followed
by the first part of that of Arthur Mervyn during
the same year in Philadelphia. This was followed
in a few months by Edgar Huntley, in 1800 by
the second part of Arthur Mervyn, and in the
next year by Olara Howard and Jane Talbot.
His literary labors at this period seem to have
been interrupted only by a short visit to some
friends at Middletown, Connecticut, in June,
1799 ; by a similar excursion to Princeton, New
Jersey, to meet his eldest brother, whose ordinary
residence was Charleston, South Carolina, and a

* The " proposals" for publication appear on the cover of tho
Weekly Magazine, published in Philadelphia in 1798.

CHAKLE3 BROCKDEN BROWN.

589

tour of a few weeks in the summer of 1801, up
the Hudson, through Massachusetts to Northamp-
ton, and thence by Hartford and New Haven to
New York.

This rapid succession of fictitious narratives is
almost unexampled in literary history, but does
not seem to have satisfied the intellectual activity
of their author. In the month of April, 1799,
he carried out his favorite plan of a periodical by
the issue in New York of No. 1 of the Monthly
Magazine and American Review. He was the
chief contributor to its pages, but it does not
seem to have met a success equal to his novels, as
it closed with the century in 1800. A second
attempt wis more permanent; The Literary
Magazine and American Register started in Oc-
tober, 1803, in Philadelphia, where its projector
was again a resident, having been continued for
five years.

In 1803 he also published the first of several
political essays, that on the Cession of Louisiana,
to France, in which he advocated the purchase
of that region by the United States, and the pro-
gressive territorial extension of the Union, in ani-
mated and earnest language. In November, 1804,
ho married Miss Elizabeth Linn, daughter of the
Rev. Dr. William Linn, of New York.

Brown, whose mind seenn to have been at all
times clear and practical with regard to the
duties of life, aware, perhaps, of the limited scope
of his novels, and finding himself breaking loose
from the peculiarities of mental existence to
wh'ich they owe their power as well as their indi-
viduality, applied himself to graver though less
ambitious labor, and devoted himself, after his
marriage, with increased energy to his literary
career. He projected, and by the aid of Mr. Con-
rad, the active publisher of his Magazine, issued
in 1806 the first volume of the "American Regis-
ter." This was the first publication of its kind
which appeared in the country. It contained
European and American annal <, Review of Lite-
rature, Foreign and American State papers, Mis-
cellaneous articles, an American Obituary, and a
Chronicle, consisting of a large number of brief
articles. The narrative portions are excellent.
This series was continued in semi-annual volumes,
interrupted only by the death of its author five
years afterwards.

A second political pamphlet appeared about
this time on the Jay Treaty, rejected by Jefferson.
A third, entitled An Address to the Congress of
the United States on the utility and justice of
restrictions upon Foreign Commerce, with reflec-
tions on Foreign Trade in general and thefalure
prospects of America, was published in 1809.

He also planned a. system of general geography,
which, with the exception of the part relating to
the United States, was completed at the time of
his death. It has never been published, but is
said by hi3 biographers to have been admirably
executed. He also " made considerable progress
in a work on Rome during the Age of the Anto-
nines, similar to Anacharsis' Travels in Greece."*

In addition to these MSS. he left behind him
a number of elaborately executed architectural
drawings, a study which was always a favorite
one with him.

* Life prefixed to tho edition of his novels, 1S27.

In reading of such a constant series of impor-
tant intellectual productions we are in danger of
forgetting that their author was a man weak in
body though strong in mind. It was doubtless
solely in consequence of the strict regime* of his
life that he was enabled to resist the attacks of
disease which, as we have seen, had seized upon
him almost at his birth, until his thirty-ninth
year. " When," says he, in a letter written to a
friend about this period, "have I known that
lightness and vivacity of mind, which the divine
flow of health, even in calamity, produces in some
men! Never — scarcely ever. Not longer than
half an hour at a time, since I have called myself
man." In order to combat the now rapidly ad-
vancing strides of consumption he was induced
to lay aside his books, as years ago in his school-
boy days he had been forced to lay aside tho
books of others, for a journey from home. He
accordingly made a brief visit to New York,
stopping at several points in the state of New
Jersey. This was in the summer of 1809. On
the tenth of November in the same year he took
to his bed " with a violent pain in his side for
which he was bled" — -and was confined to his
room until his death on the twentj'-second of
February following. The gentleness and equa-
nimity of his life did not desert him at its close.
Though often tortured by disease he conversed
cheerfully with his wife and friends, and retained
full possession of his faculties to the last.

Brown describes himself as " mute among
strangers." Like many persons of reserved habits
he took intense enjoyment in the society of his
intimate friends. His stationary mode of life
shows that he had little of the spirit of adven-
ture. " I would rather," he says, " consort for ever
with a ploughman or even an old Bergen market-
woman, than expose myself to an hundredth part
of the perils which beset the heels of a Ledyard
or a Park." He was careless of his money, and
slovenly in dress. His description of Mervyn has
been well applied by his biographer, Dunlap, to
himself. " My existence is a series of thoughts,
rather than of motions. Ratiocination and deduc-
tion leave my senses unemployed." He appears
to have had but little sympathy with the Quakers.
" The truth is," he says, " I am no better than an
outcast of that unwarlike sect." His religious
views were unsettled in the early period- of his
life, but in tho preface to his Magazine he empha-
tically professes his faith in Christianity. His
moral character was unexceptionable. He was
much beloved by his friends and relatives, and
was liberal notwithstanding his poverty, receiv-
ing his sisters-in-law, on their father's death, into
his own family. In person, Brown was tall and
strongly framed, but extremely thin. His com-
plexion was pale and sallow, his hair straight and
black. The expression of his face was strongly
marked with melancholy. "I saw him," says
Sully, the painter, " a little before his death. I
had never known him — never heard of him —
never read any of his works. He was in a deep
decline. It was in the month of November — our

* Brown was an abstinent from spirituous liquors longbefore
th J date of temperance societies, and was equally simple in his
diet. In one of his magazines he has written papers on the
deleterious effect of intemperance, and of the uso of greasy
articles of food.

590

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Indian summer — when the air is full of smoke.
Passing a window one day, I was caught by the
sight of a man, with a remarkable physiognomy,
writing at a table in a dark room. The sun
shone direotly upon his head. I never shall for-
get it. The dead leaves were falling then — it
was Charles Broekden Brown." " Brown lived
in Philadelphia," says John Neal, who furnishes
this anecdote, "in Eleventh, between Walnut
and Chesnut streets, in a low, dirty, two-story
brick house, standing a little in from the street
— with never a tree nor a shrub near it."
His novels, though successful, probably added
little to his financial resources. He says in one
of his letters to his brother, James Brown, dated
New York, April, 1800, " Bookmaking, as you
observe, is the dullest of all trades, and the most
that any American can look for in his native
country is to be reimbursed for his unavoidable
expenses. * * The saleability of my works will
much depend upon their popularity in England,
whither Caritat has carried a considerable num-
ber of Wieland, Ormond, and Mervyn."

The novels were reprinted and well received in
England, though we are not aware that the
author ever derived any pecuniary advantage
from their success. Arthur Mervyn and Edgar
Huntley have taken a place in Bentley's Library
of Standard Romance.

Brown entertained a moderate estimate of his
own literary powers. In the prospectus to his
"Literary Magazine," issued October, 1803, he
says — " I shall take no pains to conceal my name.
Anybody may know it who chooses to ask me or
my publisher. I shall not, however, put it at the
bottom of this address. My diffidence, as my
friends would call it, and my discretion, as my
enemies (if I have any) would term it, hinders
me from calling out my name in a crowd. * *
I am far from wishing, however, that my readers
should judge of my exertions by my former ones.
I have written much, but take much blame to
myself for something which I have written, and
take no praise for anything. I should enjoy a
larger share of my own respect, at the present
moment, if nothing had ever flowed from my pen,
the production of which could be traced to me.
A variety of causes induce me to form such a
wish, but I am principally influenced by the con-
sideration that time can scarcely fail of enlarging
and refining the powers of a man ; while the
world is sure to judge of his capacities and prin-
ciples at fifty from what he has written at fifteen."
He was not, however, insensible to the pleasure
of success. In a letter to his brother, dated Feb.
15, 1799, almost the only one in which he alludes
to the success of his literary attempts, he says,
" I add somewhat, though not so much as I might
if I were so inclined, to the number of my friends.
I find to be the writer of Wieland and Ormond is
a greater recommendation than I ever imagined
it would be."

Caleb Williams was published in 1794. Wie-
land appeared four years later. There is an un-
doubted resemblance between this and Brown's
other novels and that of Godwin. That Brown
admired Caleb Williams is amply proved by his
letter to his brother, in which he speaks of its
"transcendent merits as compared to the mass of
novels." The two authors were alike in their

earnestness and directness, and in their sombre
views of society. They both relied more on the
development of a story, the working out of an
idea, than on the exhibition of character. There
is also some similarity of style. Here, however,
the resemblance ceases. Caleb Williams is writ-
ten to expose the evils of the social system of
England, and of the exaggerated ideas of perso-
nal honor derived from the times of chivalry
working on a noble but morbidly sensitive hero.
Wieland is a fanciful attempt to illustrate the
effects which might be produced by the compara-
tively trifling agency of ventriloquism. One deals,
as its title faithfully promises, with " things as
they are" — the other tries to trick us into a belief
in the supernatural, though not actually deserting
the regions of the real — scenes, incidents, charac-
ters, results, are all different.

In writing Wieland, Brown seems to have
taken a lesson from the laboratories of his nume-
rous medical friends, rather than from any literary
model. He probably derived the opening inci-
dent, the destruction of the elder Wieland by
spontaneous combustion, from the doctors. As
he continues his characters are passive matter in
his hands. He troubles himself little if any to
individualize. They are nothing apart from the
circumstances which surround them. It is only
when brought into conjunction in the lonety coun-
try-house, like the contents of the crucible, that
they show their latent virtues, and like these too
they are well nigh absorbed in the result. The
incidents of the tale are equally faulty. The
supernatural voice whose monitions lead Wieland
to immolate wife and children, turns out to be
the miserable trickery of the " biloquist" Carwi.i,
who, commencing the purposeless annoyance of
a family of strangers, has not the courage to
avow his tricks until after they have led to this
bloody catastrophe. With all its improbabilities,
however, the tale enforces the breathless attention
of the reader from beginning to end.

Brown was sensible of the abruptness of the
introduction of Carwin, and to mend the matter
commenced the memoirs of the early career of
this mysterious and disagreeable personage in tho
"Literary Magazine." He abandoned the plan
after writing a few chapters which have no con-
nexion whatever with the story they were in-
tended to complete, except in the relation of the
manner in which the " biloquist" becomes sensi-
ble of his peculiar powers.

The other novels have a mere real though not
less intense interest. They introduce us to a
somewhat wider range of characters, men of
mixed and complicated natures, not the blind
slaves and passive agents of a single idea. They
bring us, too, to the city, but it is most often
to the city in its plague-stricken agonies, when
its streets are almost as desolate as the fron-
tier settlement and wooded fastnesses in which
the author delights. We have little of the
domestic life either of city or country. There is
scarcely any dialogue to stay the stern progress
of events — the characters are more disposed to
soliloquize than to talk. We have few glimpses
of indoor comfort in mansion or cottage, no
peaceful views of smiling landscape. Brown can
depict natural scenery, and does it too with a firm
and bold hand, but his pictures have more of Sal-

CHARLES BROCKDEN BROWN.

591

vator than of Claude. In the -wild scenery of
Pennsylvania, in the then wilderness of the Forks
of the Delaware, he is as much at home as among
the right angles of his native city. In Edgar
Huntley ho has given full scope to his love of
natural scenery. The strange wild ramble of the
somnambulist through cave, forest, and river, is
full of fine description, though the varying scene
is suggested rather than portrayed. The adven-
tures with the cougar and the Indians in the same
story are wonderfully animated ; anticipating and
foreshadowing the more elaborate efforts of the
great successor of the first American novelist.

FIEST APPEARANCE OP CARWIN — FROM WIELAND.

One sunny afternoon, I was standing in the door
of my house, when I marked a person passing close
to the edge of the bank that was in front. His pace
was a careless and lingering one, and had none of
that gracefulness and case which distinguish a per-
son with certain advantages of education from a
clown. His gait was rustic and awkward. His
form was ungainly and disproportioned. Shoulders
broad and square, breast sunken, his head drooping,
his bod}* of uniform breadth, supported by long and
lank legs, were the ingredients of his frame. His
garb was not ill adapted to such a figure. A
slouched hat, tarnished by the weather, a coat of
thick grey cloth, cut and wrought, as it seemed, by
a country tailor, blue worsted stockings, and shoes
fastened by thongs, and deeply discolored by dust,
which brush had never disturbed, constituted his
dress.

There was nothing remarkable in these appear-
ances ; they were frequently to be met with on the
road, and in the harvest field. I cannot tell why I
gazed upon them, on this occasion, with more than
ordinary attention, unless it were that such figures
were seldom seen by me, except on the road or
field. This lawn was only traversedby men whoso
views were directed to the pleasures of the walk, or
the grandeur of the scenery.

He passed slowly along, frequently pausing, as if
to examine the prospect more deliberately, but never
turning his eye towards the house, so as to allow
me a view of his countenance. Presently, he entered
a copse at a small distance, and disappeared. My
eye followed him while he remained in sight. If
his image remained for any duration in my fancy
after his departure, it was because no other object
occurred sufficient to expel it.

I continued in the same spot for half an hour,
vaguely, and by fits, contemplating the image of
this wanderer, and drawing, from outward appear-
ances, those inferences, with respe t to the intellec-
tual history of this person, which experience affords
us. I reflected on the alliance which commonly
subsists between ignorance and the practice of agri-
culture, and indulged myself in airy speculations as
to the influence of progressive knowledge in dissolv-
ing this alliance, and embodying the dreams of the
poets. I asked why the plough and the hoe might
not become the trade of every human being, and
how this trade might be made conducive to, or, at
least, consistent with the acquisition of wisdom and
eloquence.

Weary with these reflections, I returned to the
kitchen to perform some household office. I had
usually but one servant, and she was a girl about
my own age. I was busy near the chimuey,
and she was employed near the door of the apart-
ment, when some one knocked. The door was
opened by her, and she was immediately addressed
with — " Pr'ythee, good girl, canst thou supply a

thirsty man with a glass of buttermilk V She
answered that there was none in the house. "Aye,
but there is some in the dairy, yonder. Thou
knowest as well as I, though Hermes never taught
thee, that though every dairy be a house, every
house is not a dairy." To this speech, though she
understood only a part of it, she replied by repeat-
ing her assurances, that she had none to give.
" Well, then," rejoined the stranger, " for charity's
sweet sake, hand me forth a cup of cold water."
The girl said she would go to the spring and fetch
it. ". Nay, give me the cup, and suffer me to help
myself. Neither manacled nor lame, I should merit
burial in the maw of carrion crows, if I laid this
task upon thee." She gave him the cup, and he
turned to go to the spring.

I listened to this dialogue in silence. The words
uttered by the person without, affected me as some-
what singular, but what chiefly rendered them re-
markable, was the tone that accompanied them. It
was wholly new. My brother's voice and Pleyel's
were musical and energetic. I had fondly imagined,
that, in this respect, they were surpassed by none.
Now my mistake was detected. I cannot pretend
to communicate the impression that was made upon
me by these accents, or to depict the degree in
which force and sweetness were blended in them.
They were articulated with a distinctness that was
unexampled in my experience. But this was not
all. The voice was not only mellifluent and clear,
but the emphasis was so just, and the modulation so
impassioned, that it seemed as if a heart of stone
could not fail of being moved by it. It imparted to
me an emotion altogether involuntary and incon-
trollable. When he uttered the words, " for charity's
sweet sake," I dropped the cloth that I held in my
hand, my heart, overflowed with sympathy, and my
eyes with unbidden tears.

This description will appear to you trifling or
incredible. The importance of these circumstances
will be manifested in the sequel. The manner in
which I was affected on this occasion, was, to my
own apprehension, a subject of astonishment. The
tones were indeed such as I never heard before; but
that they should, in an instant, as it were, dissolve
me in tears, will not easily be believed by others,
and can scarcely be comprehended by myself.

It will be readily supposed that I was somewhat
inquisitive as to the person and demeanor of our
visitant. After a moment's pause, I stepped to the
door and looked after him. Judge my surprise,
when I beheld the self-same figure that had appeared
a half hour before upon the bank. My fancy had
conjured up a very different image. A form, and
attitude, and garb, were instantly created worthy
to accompany such elocution ; but this person was,
in all visible respects, the reverse of this phantom.
Strange as it may seem, I could not speedily recon-
cile myself to this disappointment. Instead of
returning to my employment, I threw myself in a
chair that was placed opposite the door, and sunk
into a fit of musing.

My attention was, in a few minutes, recalled by
the stranger, who returned with the empty cup in
his hand. I had not thought of the circumstance, or
should certainly have chosen a different seat. Ho
no sooner showed himself, than a confused sense of
impropriety, added to the suddenness of the inter-
view, for which, not having foreseen it, I had made
no preparation, threw me into a state of the most
painful embarrassment. He brought with him a
placid brow ; but no sooner had he cast his eyes upon
me than his face was as glowingly suffused as my
own. He placed the cup upon the bench, stammered
out thanks, and retired.

592

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

It was 6ome time before I could recover my
■wonted composure. I had snatched a view of the
stranger's countenance. The impression that it
made was vivid and indelible. His cheeks were
pallid and lank, his eyes sunken, his forehead over-
shadowed by coarse straggling hairs, his teeth large
and irregular, though sound and brilliantly while,
and his chin discolored by a tetter. His skin was of
coarse grain, and sallow hue. Every feature was
wide of beauty, and the outline of his face reminded
you of an inverted cone.

And yet his forehead, so far as shaggy locks would
allow it to be seen, his eyes lustrously black, and
possessing, in the midst of haggardness, a radiance
inexpressibly serene and potent, and something in
the rest of his features, which it would be in vain to
describe, but which served to betoken a mind of the
highest order, were essential ingredients in the por-
trait. This, in the effects which immediately flowed
from it, I count among the most extraordinary in-
cidents of my life. This face, seen for a moment,
continued for hours to occupy my fancy, to the
exclusion of almost every other image. I had pur-
posed to spend the evening with my brother, but I
could not resist the inclination of foi-ming a sketch
upon paper of this memorable visage. Whether
my hand was aided by any peculiar inspiration, or
I was deceived by my own fond conceptions, this
portrait, though hastily executed, appeared unexcep-
tionable to my own taste.

I placed it at all distances, and in all lights ; my
eyes were riveted upon it. Half the night passed
away in wakefulness and in contemplation of this
picture. So flexible, and yet so stubborn, is the
human mind. So obedient to impulses the most
transient and brief, and yet so unalterably ob-
servant of the direction which is given to it!
How little did I then foresee the termination of
that chain, of which this may be regarded as the
first link ?

YELLOW FEVEE SCENES IN PHILADELPHIA, 1793 — FEOM AETIIUR
HF.EVYN.

In proportion as I drew near the city, the tokens
of its calamitous condition became more apparent.
Every farm-house was filled with supernumerary
tenants ; fugitives from home ; and haunting the
skirts of the road, eager to detain every passenger
with inquiries after news. The passengers were
numerous; for the tide of emigration was by no
means exhausted. Some were on foot, bearing in
their countenances the tokens of their recent terror,
and filled with mournful reflections on the forlorn-
ness of their state. Few had secured to themselves
an asylum ; some were without the means of paying
for victuals or lodging for the coming night; oihers,
who were not thus destitute, 37et knew not whither
to apply for entertainment, every house being
already overstocked with inhabitants, or barring its
inhospitable doors at their approach.

Families of weeping mothers, and dismayed chil-
dren, attended with a few pieces of indispensable
furniture, were carried in vehicles of every form.
The parent or husband had perished; and the price
of some moveable, or the pittance handed forth by
public charity, had been expended to purchase the
means of retiring from this theatre of disasters;
though uncertain and hopeless of accommodation in
the neighboring districts.

Between these and the fugitives whom curiosity
had led to the road, dialogues frequently took place,
to which I was suffered to listen. From every
mouth the tale of sorrow was repeated with new
aggravations. Pictures of their own distress, or of
tliat of their neighbors, were exhibited in all the

hues which imagination can annex to pestilence and
poverty.

My preconceptions of the evil now appeared to
have fallen short of the truth. The dangers into
which I was rushing, seemed more numerous and
imminent than I had previously imagined. I wavered
not in my purpose. A panic crept to my heart,
which more vehement exertions were necessary to
subdue or control; but I hai bored not a momentary
doubt that the course which 1 had taken was pre-
scribed by duty. Theie was no difficulty or reluc-
tance in proceeding. All for which my efforts were
demanded, was to walk in this path without tumult
or alarm.

Various circumstances had hindered me from set-
ting out upon this journey as early as was proper.
My frequent pauses to listen to the narratives of
travellers, contributed likewise to procrastination.
The sun had nearly set before I reached the pre-
cincts of the city. I pursued the track which I had
j formerly taken, and entered High street after night-
| fall. Instead of equipages and a Huong of passen-
gers, the voice of levity and glee, which I had for-
merly observed, and which the mildness of the
season would, at other times, have produced, I
found nothing but a dreary solitude.

The market-place, and each side of this magnifi-
cent avenue were illuminated, as before, by lamps;
but between the verge of Schuylkill and the heart
of the city, I met not more than a dozen figures;
and these were ghost-like, wrapt in cloaks, from
behind which they cast upon me glances of wonder
and suspicion ; and, as I approached, changed their
course, to avoid touching me. Their clothes were
sprinkled with vinegar; and their nostrils defended
from contagion by some powerful perfume.

I cast a look upon the houses, which I recollected
to have formerly been, at this hour, brilliant with
lights, resounding with lively voices, and thronged
with busy faces. Now they were closed, above and
below; dark, and without tokens of being inhabited.
From the upper windows of some, a gleam some-
times fell upon the pavement I was traversing, and
showed that their tenants had not fled, but were
secluded or disabled.

These tokens were new, and awakened all my
panics. Death seemed to hover over this scene, and
1 dreaded that the floating pestilence had already
lighted on my frame. 1 had scarcely overcome
these tremors, when I approached a house, the door
of which was opened, and before which stood avehi-
cle, which I presently recognised to be a hearse.

The driver was seated on it. I stood still, to
mark his visage, and to observe the course which he
proposed to take. Presently a coffin, borne by two
men, issued from the house. The driver was a
negro, but his companions were white. Their fea-
tures were marked by ferocious indifference to dan-
ger or pity.

One of them, as he assisted in thrusting the coffin
into the cavity provided for it, said, " I'll be damned
if I think the poor dog was quite dead. It wasn't
the fever that ailed him, but the sight of the girl
and her mother on the floor. I wonder how they all
got into that room. 'What carried them there?"

The other surlily muttered, " Their legs, to be
sure."

" But what should they hug together in one room
for?"

" To save us trouble, to be sure."

" And I thank them with all my heart ; but
damn it, it wasn't right to put him in his coffin
before the breath was fairly gone. I thought the
last look he gave me, told me to stay a few
minutes."

CHARLES BUOCKDEN BROWN.

593

" Pshaw ! He could not live. The sooner dead
the better for him ; as well as for ns. Did you
mark how he eyed us, when we carried away his
wife and daughter? I never cried in my life, since
I was knee-high, but curse me if I ever felt in better
tune for the business than just then. Hey I" con-
tinued he, looking up, and observing me standing a
few paces distant, and listening to their discourse,
" what's wanted ? Anybody dead ?"

I stayed not to answer or parley, but hurried for-
ward. My joints trembled, and cold drops stood on
my forehead. I was ashamed of my own infirmity ;
and by vigorous efforts of my reason, regained some
degree of composure. The evening had now ad-
vanced, and it behoved me to procure accommoda-
tion at some of the inns.

These were easily distinguished by their siij/is,
but many were without inhabitants. At length, I
lighted upon one, the hall of which was open, and
the windows lifted. After knocking for some time,
a young girl appeared, with many marks of distress.
In answer to my question, she answered that both
her parents were sick, and that they could receive
no one. 1 inquired, in vain, for any other tavern at
which strangers might be accommodated. She
knew of no ie such ; and left me, on some one's call-
ing to her from above, in tlie midst of my embarrass-
ment. After a moment's pause, I returned, discom-
forted and perplexed, to the street.

I proceeded, in a considerable degree, at random.
At length I reached a spacious building in Fourth
street, which the sign-post showed me to be an inn.
I knocked loudly and often at the door. At length
a female opened the window of the second story,
and in a tone of peevishness demanded what I
wanted? I told her that I wanted lodging.

" Go hunt font somewhere else," said she; "you'll
find none here." I began to expostulate ; but she
shut the window with quickness, and left me to my
own reflections.

I began now to feel some regret at the journey I
had taken. Never, in the depth of caverns or
forests, was I equally conscious of loneliness. I was
surrounded by the habitations of men; but I was
destitute of associate or friend. I had money, but a
horse shelter, or a morsel of food, could not be pur-
chased. I came for the purpose of relieving others,
but stood in the utmost need myself. Even in health
my condition was helpless and forlorn ; but what
would become of me, should this fatal malady be
contracted. To hope that an asylum would be
afforded to a sick man. which was denied to me in
health, was unreasonable.

The first impulse which flowed from these reflec-
tions, was to hasten back to Mafaerton ; which,
with sufficient diligence, I might hope to regain
before the morning light. I could not, methought,
return upon my steps witli too much speed. I was
prompted to run, as if the pest was rushing upon me,
and could be eluded only by the most precipitate
flight

This impulse was quickly counteracted by new
ideas. I thought with indignation and shame on
the imbecility of my proceeding. I called up the
images of Susan Hadwin, and of Wallace. I re-
viewed the motives which had led me to the under-
taking of this journey. Time had, by no means,
diminished their force. I hail, indeed, nearly arrived
at the accomplishment of what I had intended. A
few steps would carry me to Thetford's habitation.
This might be the critical moment, when succour
was most needed, and would, be most efficacious.

I had previously concluded to defer goi ;g thither
till the ensuing morning; but why should I allow
myself a moment's delay ? I might at least gain an

vol. i. — 38

external view of the house, and circumstances might
arise, which would absolve me from the obligation
of remaining an hour longer in the city. All for
which I came might be performed ; the destiny of
Wallace be ascertained ; and 1 be once more safe
within the precincts of Malverion before the return
of day.

I immediately directed my steps towards the habi-
tation of Thetford. Carriages bearing the dead
were frequently discovered. A few passengers like-
wise occurred, whose hnsty and perturbed steps
denoted their participation in the common distress.
The house, of which I was in quest, quickly appeared.
Light from an upper window indicated that it was
still inhabited.

I paused a moment to reflect in what manner it
became me to proceed. To ascertain the existence
and condition of Wallace was the purpose of my
journey. He had inhabited this house ; and whether
he remained in it, was now to be known. I felt
repugnance to enter, since my safety might, by
entering, be unawares and uselessly endangered.
Most of the neighboring houses were apparently
deserted. In some there were various tokens of
people being within. Might I not inquire, at one
of these, respecting the condition of Thetford's
family ? Yet why should I disturb them by in-
quiries so impertinent, at this unseasonable hour?
To knock at Thetford's door, and put my questions
to him who should obey the signal, was the obvious
method.

I knocked dubiously and lightly. No one came.
I knocked again, and more loudly ; I likewise drew
the bell. I distinctly heard its distant peals. If
any were within, my signal could not fail to be
noticed. I paused, and listened, but neither voice
nor footsteps could be heard. The light, though
obscured by window curtains, which seemed to be
drawn close, was still perceptible.

I ruminated on the causes that might hinder my
summons from being obeyed. I figured to myself
nothing but the helplessness of disease, or the insen-
sibility of death. These images only urged me to
persist in endeavoring to obtain admission. With-
out weighing the consequences of my act, I involun-
tarily lifted the latch. The door yielded to my
hand, and I put my feet within the passage.

Once more I paused. The passage was of consi-
derable extent, and at the end of it I perceived light
as from a lamp or candle. This impelled me to go
forward, till I reached the foot of a staircase. A
candle stood upon the lowest step.

This was a new proof that the house was not
deserted. I struck my heel against the floor with
some violence ; but this, like my former signals, was
unnoticed. Having proceeded thus far, it would
have been absurd to retire with my purpose un-
effected. Taking the candle in my hand, I opened
a door that was near. It led into a spacious parlor,
furnished with profusion and splendor. I walked
to and fro, gazing at the objects which presented
themselves ; and involved in perplexity, I knocked
with my heel louder than ever ; but no less inef-
fectually.

Notwithstanding the lights which I had seen, it
was possible that the house was uninhabited. This 1
was resolved to ascertain, by proceeding' to the
chamber which I had observed, from without, to be
illuminated. This chamber, as far as the comparison
of circumstances would permit me to decide,, I be-
lieved to be the same in which I had passed the
first night of my late abode in the city. Now was
I, a second time, in almost equal ignorance of my
situation, and of the coOscquences which impended,
exploring my way to the same recess.

594

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

I mounted the stair. As I approached the door
of which I was in search, a vapor, infectious and
deadly, assailed my senses. It resembled nothing
of which I had ever before been sensible. Many
odors had been met with, even since my arrival in
the city, less supportable than this. I seemed not
bo much to smell as to taste the element that now
encompassed me. I felt as if I had inhaled a poison-
ous and subtle fluid, whose power instantly bereft
my stomach of all vigor. Some fatal influence ap-
peared to seize upon my vitals ; and the work of
corrosion and decomposition to be busily begun.

For a moment, I doubted whether imagination
had not some share in producing my sensation ; but
I had not been previously panic-struck; and even
now I attended to my own sensations without men-
tal discomposure. That I had imbibed this disease
was not to be questioned. So far the chances in
my favor were annihilated. The lot of sickness was
drawn.

Whether my ease would be lenient or malignant ;
whether I should recover or perish, was to be left
to the decision of the future. This incident, instead
of appalling me, tended rather to invigorate my
courage. The danger which I feared had come. I
might enter with indifference on this theatre of
pestilence. I might execute without faltering, the
duties that my circumstances might create. My
state was no longer hazardous; and my destiny
would be totally uninfluenced by my future con-
duct.

The pang with which I was first seized, and the
momentary inclination to vomit, which it produced,
presently subsided. My wholesome feelings, indeed,
did not revisit me, but strength to proceed was
restored to me. The effluvia became more sensible
as I approached the door of the chamber. The
door was ajar ; and the light within was perceived.
My belief, that those within were dead, was pre-
sently confuted by a sound, which I first supposed
to be that of steps moving quickly and timorously
across the floor. This ceased, and was succeeded by
sounds of different, but inexplicable import

Having entered the apartment, I saw a candle on
the hearth. A table was covered with vials and
other apparatus < f a sick chamber. A bed stood on
one side, the curtain of which was dropped at the
foot, so as to conceal, any one within. I fixed my
eyes upon this object. There were sufficient tokens
that some one lay upon the bed. Breath, drawn at
long intervals; mutterings scarcely audible ; and a
tremulous motion in the bedstead, were fearful and
intelligible indications.

If my heart faltered, it must not be supposed that
my trepidations arose from any selfish considera-
tions. Wallace only, the object of my search, was
present to my fancy. Pervaded with remembrance
of the Had wins; of the agonies which they had
already endured ; of the despair which would over-
whelm the unhappy Susan, when the death of her
lover should be ascertained ; observant of the lonely
condition of this house, whence I could only infer
that the sick had been denied suitable attendance ;
and reminded by the symptoms that appeared, that
this being was struggling with the agonies of death ;
a sickness of the heart, more insupportable than
that which I h:id just experienced, stole upon me.

My fancy readily depicted the progress and com-
pletion of this tragedy. Wallace was the first of
the family on whom the pestilence had seized.
Thetford had fled from his habitation. Perhaps, as
a father and husband, to shun the danger attending
his stay, was the injunction of his duty. It was
questionless the conduct which selfish regards would
dictate. Wallace was left to perish alone; or, per-

haps, which indeed was a supposition somewhat jus-
tified by appearances, lie had been left to the ten-
dence of mercenary wretches ; by whom, at this
desperate moment he had been abandoned.

I was not mindless of the possibility that these
forebodings, specious as they were, might be false.
The dying person might be some other than Wallace.
The whispers of my hope were, indeed, faint; but
they, at least, prompted me to snatch a look at the
expiring man. For this purpose, I advanced and
thrust my head within the curtain.

The features of one whom I had seen so tran-
siently as Wallace, may be imagined to be i ot easily
recognised, especially when those features were
tremulous and deathful. Here, however, the differ-
ences were too conspicuous to mislead me. I beheld
one in whom I could recollect none that bore resem-
blance. Though ghastly and livid, the traces of
intelligence and beauty were undefaced. The life
of Wallace was of more value to a feeble individual,
but surely the being that was stretched before me,
and who was hastening to his last breath, was pre-
cious to thousands.

Was he not one in whose place I would willingly
have died? The offering was too late. His ex-
tremities were already cold. A vapor, noisome and
contagious, hovered over him. The flutterings of
his pulse had ceased. His existence was about to
close amidst convulsion and paugs.

I withdrew my gaze from this object, and walked
to a table. I was nearly unconscious of my move-
ments. My thoughts were occupied with contem-
plations of the train of horrors and disasters that
pursue the race of man. My musings were quickly
interrupted by the sight of a small cabinet, the
hinges of which were broken and the lid half raised.
In the present state of my thoughts, I was prone to
suspect the worst. Here were traces of pillage.
Some casual or mercenary attendant had not only
contributed to hasten the death of the patient, but
had rifled his property and fled.

This suspicion would, perhaps, have yielded to
mature reflections, if I had been suffered to reflect.
A moment scarcely elapsed, when some appearance
in the mirror, which hung over the table, called my
attention. It was a human figure, nothing could be
briefer than the glance that 1 fixed upon this appa-
rition, yet there was room enongh for the vague
conception to suggest itself, that the dying man had
started from his bed and was approaching me.
This belief was, at the same instant, confuted, by
the survey of his form and garb. One eye, a scar
upon his cheek, a tawny skin, a form grotesquely
misproportioned, brawny as Hercules, and habited
in livery, composed, as it were, the parts of one
view.

To perceive, to fear, and to confront this appari-
tion were blended into one sentiment, I turned
towards him with the swiftness of lightning, but my
speed was useless to my safety. A blow upon my
temple was succeeded by an utter, oblivion of
thought and of feeling. I sank upon the floor pros-
trate and senseless.

My insensibility might be mistaken by observers
for death, yet some part of this interval was haunte-,*
by a fearful dream. I conceived myself lyinp; on
the brink of a pit, whose bottom the eye could not
reach. My hands and legs were fettered, so as to
disable me from resisting two grim and gigantic
figures, who stooped to lift me from the earth.
Their purpose, metl. ought, was to cast me into this
abyss. My terrors were unspeakable, and I strug-
gled with such force, that my bonds snapped and I
found myself at libery. At this moment my senses
returned and I opened my eyes.

THOMAS GREEN FESSENDEN.

50;

The memory of recent events was, for a time,
effaced by my visionary honors. I was conscious
of transition from one state of being to another, but
my imagination was still filled witli images of dan-
ger. The bottomless gulf and my gigantic perse-
cutors were still dreaded. I looked up with eager-
ness. Beside me I discovered three figures, whose
character or office were explained by a coffin of pine
boards which lay upon the floor. One stood with
hammer and nails in his hand, as ready to replace and
fasten the lid of the coffin, as soon as its burthen
should be received.

I attempted to rise from the floor, but my head
was dizzy and my sight confused. Perceiving me
revive, one of the men assisted me to regain my
feet. Tbe mist and confusion presently vanished, so
as to allow me to stand unsupported and to move.
I once more gazed at my attendants, and recognised
the three men, whom I had met in High street, and
whose conversation I have mentione 1 that I over-
heard. I looked again upon the coffin, A waver-
ing recollection of the incidents that led me hither
and of the stunning blow which I had received,
occurred to me. I saw into what error appearances
had misled these men, and shuddered to reflect, by
what hairbreadth menus I had escaped being buried
alive.

Before the men had time to interrogate me, or to
comment upon my situation, one entered the apart-
ment, whose habit and mien tended to encourage
me. The stranger was characterized by an aspect
full of composure and benignity, a face in which the
serious lines of age were blended with the ruddiness
and smoothness of youth, and a garb that bespoke
that religious profession, witli whose benevolent
doctrines the example of Hadwiu had rendered me
familiar.

On observing me on my feet, he betrayed marks
of surprise and satisfaction. He addressed me in a
tone of mildness.

" Young man," said he, "what is thy condition?
Art thou sick? If thou art, thou must consent to
receive the best treatment which the times will
afford. These men will convey thee to the hospital
at Bush Hill."

The mention of that contagious and abhorred re-
ceptacle, inspired me with some degree of energy.
" Wo," said I, " I am not sick, a violent blow reduced
me to this situation. I shall presently recover
strength enough to leave the spot without assistance."

He looked at me, with an incredulous but com-
passionate air ; " I fear thou dost deceive thyself or
me. The necessity of going to the hospital is much
to be regretted, but on the whole it is best. Per-
haps, indeed, thou hast kindred or friends who will
take care of thee."

"No," said I; "neither kindred nor friends. I
am a stranger in the city. I do not even know a
single being."

"Alas!" returned the stranger, with a sigh, " thy
state is sorrowful — but how earnest thou hither?"
continued he, looking around him, "and whence
coinest thou?"

" I came from the country. I reached the city a
few hours ago. I was in search of a friend who
lived in this house."

" Thy undertaking was strangely hazardous and
rash ; but who is the friend thou seckest ? Was it
he who died in that bed, and whose corpse has just
been removed ?"

The men now betrayed some impatience ; and in-
quired of the last comer, whom they called Mr.
Estwick, what lliey were to do. He turned to me,
and asked if I were willing to be conducted to the
hospital ?

I assured him that I was free from disease, and
6tood in no need of assistance ; adding, that my
feebleness was owing to a stunning blow received
from a ruffian on my temple. The marks of this
blow were conspicuous, and after some hesitation he
dismissed the men ; who, lifting the empty coffin on
their shoulders, disappeared.

He now invited me to descend into the parlor ;
" for," said he, " the air of this room is deadly. I
feel already as if I should h^e reason to repent of
having entered it."

He now inquired into the cause of those appear-
ances which he had witnessed. I explained my
situation as clearly and succinctly as I was able.

After pondering, in silence, on my story ; — " I see
how it is," said he ; " the person whom thou sawest
in the agonies of death was a stranger. He was
attended by his servant and a hired nurse. His
master's death being certain, the nurse was des-
patched by the servant to procure a coffin. He pro-
bably chose that opportunity to rifle his master's
trunk, that stood upon the table. Thy unseasonable
entrance interrupted him ; and he designed, by the
blow which he gave thee, to secure his retreat
before the arrival of a hearse. I know the man,
and the apparition thou hast so well described, was
his. Thou sayest that a friend of thine lived in his
house — thou hast come too late to be of service.
The whole family have perished. Not one was suf-
fered to escape."

THOMAS GEEEN FESSENDEN,

Thojias Gkekn, the son of the Rev. Thomas Fes-
senden of that place, author of a volume entitled
A Theoretical Explanation of the Science of Sanc-
tity, was born at Walpole, New Hampshire, April
22, 1771. He completed his course at Dartmouth
in 170G, having supported himself while at college
by teaching psalmody in the evenings, and keep-
ing school during the vacations, and afterwards
studied law at Rutland, Vt. While thus occupied,
he amused his leisure hours by contributing to
the Dartmouth Eagle and the Walpole Farmer's
Weekly Museum, a number of humorous poems
similar in style to those of Royal Tyler and the
other " Walpole Wits." One of these, " The
Country Lovers," became very popular. In 1801,
he visited London for the purpose of introducing
a new hydraulic machine, in which he had, with
a number of friends, become interested ; but on
subjecting the machine to a more thorough test
than it had received in America, it w-as found
not to an-uver the purpose. IIU plans thus frus-
trated, in tlie hope of still turning his journey
to account, he embarked in a project set on
foot by a fellow countryman, resident in Lon-
don, of constructing a water-mill on the Thames.
He invested his means in the purchase of one-fifth
of the concern. The project failed. During the
season of anxiety occasioned by this disaster, and
while a portion of the time confined to his bed
by sickness, he made a literary venture, which

MVW*^

proved as successful as his former attempts hat1
disastrous.

596

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN" LITERATURE.

The Terrible Tractoration* was composed as a
satire on tha medical profession in general; its
special subject being the Metallic Tractors of
Perkins,t an application of galvanism to the
treatment of disease, in the efficacy of which
Fessenden then and afterwards professed himself
to be a believer.! It professes to be com-
posed by a starving garreteer in the pay of the
faculty, to write down the new invention. A i
large portion of the volume is occupied by origi-
nal notes, satirizing the commentators, which
equal in humor the text they illustrate. The j
poem was published anonymously, and was va- ]
riously attributed to Gifford, Wolcot, the author
of " Peter Pindar," and Huddesford, an author to
whom we have already had occasion to allude.§
Its success relieved the author's embarrassments,
which, according to a story we have heard, had
confined him to a jail, where the poem was
written.

The author followed up this hit by a collec-
tion of newspaper contributions, with the title
Original Poems.

In 1804 Fessenden returned to America, where
both of his volumes had been reprinted with suc-
cess, and published in the same year a violent at-
tack, in verse, on the Jeffersunians, entitled Demo-
cracy Unveiled, or Tyranny stripped of the garb
of Patriotism. He next started a periodical, The
Weekly Inspector, in New York, which was con-
tinued about two years. This was a pleasant
miscellany, of a literary rather than political cha-
racter, enlivened by Christopher Caustic's verses,
as well as his lively prose, but after a trial of two
years proved unsuccessful. The editor closes the
fifty-second number with a spirited editorial, from
which we extract a few passages : —

" The inevitable hour," which speedily overtakes,
in Columbia's " happy land," every publication
which aspires to any character for literature, sci-
ence, or general information, above that of a com-
mon daily advertising newspaper, has put a period
to the Weekly Inspector.

********

Our good men think that an editor must write —
write — write well if he can, but :it any rate write.
They measure his brains by the yard. He that will
turn out the greatest quantity of matter in a given
time is the greatest man. No matter whether new
or old, hut something which the majority have not
seen. * * * *

Horace's poet, who could write, I forget how
many lines, while he could stand on one leg, would

* Terrible Tractoration ! ! A Poetical Petition against Galva-
nising Trumpery, and the Perkinistic Institution, in four can-
tos, most respectfully addressed to the P.oval College of Phy-
sicians, by Christopher Caustic. MTD., LL.i)., ASS., Fellow of
the Eoyal College of Physicians, Aberdeen, and Honorary
Member of no less than nineteen very learned societies. First
American, from the second London edition, revised and cor-
rected by the author, with additional notes. New York :
Samuel Stansbury. 1S04

+ Perkins, alter practising his system in London, came to
this country "armed with his tractors, and fortified by the
credentials of a score of bishops and other dignitaries of the
Church of England," and professed to cure yellow fever by his
Tractors. He was allowed, in consequence of the sympathy
of the Directors of the New York Hospital, to introduce his
practice into that institution. He died himself of the yellow
fever in 17911, a few months after his arrival, and was buried
in the Potter's Field, now the Washington Parade Ground.
— Keminiscences of Christopher Colics, by Dr. J. W. Francis,
in Knickerbocker Gallery.

± Preface to the Modern Philosopher, 1306, p. 11.

§ Ante. p. 2(3.

be the man, of all men, for nn editor of an American
newspaper. Americans look at the quantity and
I not the quality. Give us so much of something,
and we will call you a great man. Write us sixteen
pages a week of original matter, no matter how
much was stolen, and we will set you on the top of
a liberty pole.

In 1806 he published The Minute Philosopher,
an enlargement of the Terrible Tractoration. A
third edition was published towards the close of
his life.

We next hear of him in 1812, as practising
law at Bellows Falls, Vermont. Here he married.
In 1815 he removSd to Brattleboro', where he
edited The Reporter, a political newspaper. He
returned to Bellows Falls in thenext year, where
he edited a newspaper called The Intelligencer, a
position he retained until 1822, publishing in the
meantime a volume in verse, The Ladies' Moni-
tor. He then removed to Boston, to commence the
New England Farmer, a weekly agricultural jour-
nal, which attained high rank in its department,
in his hands. While conducting this journal, he
edited two other periodicals of a similar charac-
ter, Tlie Horticultural Register and The Silk
Manual, and also prepared a number of treatises
on similar subjects. In these pursuits the remain-
der of his life was passed. He died of apoplexy
at Boston, November 11, 1837. The Massachu-
setts Society for Promoting Agriculture, and the
Horticultural Society, erected a monument over
his remains at Mount Auburn* Nathaniel Haw-
thorne, in an article in the American Monthly
Magazine, has furnished a pleasant picture of Fes-
senden towards the close of his career.

In January, 1836, I became, and continued for a
few months, an inmate of Mr. Fessenden's family. It
was my first acquaintance with him. His image is
before my mind's eye at this moment ; slowly ap-
proaching me with a lamp in his hand, his hair grey,
his face solemn and pale, his tall and portly figure
bent with heavier infirmity than befitted his years.
His dress — thougli he had improved in this particu-
lar since middle life — was marked by a truly scho-
lastic negligence. He greeted me kindly, and with
plain, old-fashioned courtesy ; though I fancied that
he somewhat regretted the interruption of his eve-
ning studies. After a few moments' talk, he invited
me to accompany him to his study, and give my
opinion on some passages of satirical verse, which
were to be inserted in a new edition of " Terrible
Tractoration." Years before I had lighted on an il-
lustrated copy of this poem, bestrewn with vene-
rable dust, ia a corner of a college library ; and it
seemed strange and whimsical that I should find it
still in progress of composition, and be consulted
about it by Doctor Caustic himself. While Mr. Fes-
senden read, I had leisure to glance around at his
study, which was very characteristic of the man and
his occupations. The table, and great part of the
floor, was covered with books and pamphlets on
agricultural subjects, newspapers from all quarters,
manuscript articles for the New England p'armer,
and manuscript stanzas for "Terrible Tractoration."
There was such a litter as always gathers round a
literary man. It bespoke, at once, Mr. Fesser den's
amiable temper and Ins abstracted habits, that seve-
ral members of the family, old and young, were sit-

* Buckingham's Newspaper Reminiscences, ii. 218-220.
Preface to the reprint of Terrible Tractoratior..

THOMAS GREEN FESSENDEN.

r,o:

ting in the room, and engaged in conversation, appa-
rently without giving him the least disturbance. A
specimen of Doctor Caustic's inventive genius was
seen in the " Patent Steam and Hot-water Stove,"
which heated the apartment, and kept up a pleasant
singing sound, like that of a tea-kettle, — thereby
making the fireside more cheerful. It appears to
me, that, having no children of flesh and blood, Mr.
Fessenden had contracted a fatherly fondness for
this stove, as being his mental progeny ; and it must
be owned that the stove well deserved his affection,
and repaid it with much warmth.

THE

COUNTRY LOVERS ;

OB,

MR. JONATHAN JOLTHEAD'S
Courtship icith Miss Sally Snapper :

AN EXCELLENT

NEW SONG,

SAID TO BE WRITTEN BY ITS AUTHOE \
And really founded on fact.

Tune—" YANKEE DOODLE."

THE COUNTRY LOVERS, ET0.

A merry tale I will rehearse,

As ever you did hear, sir,
How Jonathan set out, so fierce,

To see his dearest dear, sir.

Yankee doodle,* keep it up,
Yankee doodle dandy,

Mind the music — mind the step,
And with the girls be handy.

His father gave him bran new suit,

And money, sir, in plenty,
Besides a prancing nag to boot,

When he was one-and-twenty.

Yankee doodle, <tc.

Moreover, sir, I'd have you know,
That he had got some knowledge,

Enough for common use, I trow,
But had not been at college.

Yankee doodle, die.

A hundred he could count, 'tis said,

And in the bible read, sir,
And by good Christian parents bred,

Could even say the creed, sir.

Yankee doodle, &c.

He'd been to school to Master Drawl,

To spell a-bom-in-a-ble,
And when he miss'd, he had to crawl,

Straight under master's table.

Yankee doodle, &c.

One day his mother said to him,

" My darling son, come here,
Come fix you up, so neat and trim,
And go a courting, dear."

Yankee doodle, tfec.
' WTiy. what the deuce does mother want?
I snigs — I daresn't go ;
1 shall get funn'd — and then — plague on't
Folks will laugh at me so '." '

Yankee doodle, <&e.

* Yankee doodle, a ludicrous musical air, which I believe
was first invented by the English, in derision of the Americans,
whom they styled " Yankees." The Americans frequently
wrote ludicrous songs to this tune. This chorus is quoted
£rom a song, written, I believe, in Boston.

" Pho! pho ! fix up, a courting go,
To see the deacon's Sarah,
Who'll have a hundred pound, you know,
As soon as she does marry."

Yankee doodle, <fce.

Then Jonathan, in best array,
Mounted his dappled nag, sir ;

But trembled, sadly, all the way,
Lest he should get the bag, sir.

Yankee doodle, &c.

He mutter'd as he rode along,

Our Jotham overheard, sir,
And if 'twill jingle in my song,

Til tell you every word, sir.

Yankee doodle, <fec.

" I wonder mother '11 make me go,
Since girls I am afraid of;
I never know'd, nor want to know,
What sort of stuff they're made of.
Yankee doodle, ifcc.

" A wife would make good housen" stuff.
If she were downright clever,
And Sal would suit me well enough,
If she would let me have her.

Yankee doodle, &e.

" But then, I shan't know what to say,f
When we are left together,
I'd rather lie in stack of hay,
In coldest winter weather."

Yankee doodle, &c.

He reach'd the house, as people say,
IN ot far from eight o'clock, sir ;

And Joel hollow'd " in, I say,"
As soon as he did knock, sir.

Yankee doodle, i&c.

He made of bows, 'twixt two and three.
Just as his mother taught him,

All which were droll enough to see :
You'd think the cramp had caught him.
Yankee doodle, &c.

At length came in the deacon's Sal
From milking at the barn, sir;

And faith she is as good a yal \
As ever twisted yarn, sir.

Yankee doodle, &a.

For she knows all about affairs,

Can wash, and bake, and brew,§ sir,
Sing " Now I lay me," say her prayers,

And make a pudding too, sir.

Yankee doodle, <Sre.
To Boston market she has been

On horse, and in a wagon,
And many pretty things has seen,

Which every one can't brag on.

Yankee doodle, &a.

She's courted been, by many a lad,
And knows hmv sparking' s done, sir,

With Jonathan she was right glad,
To have a little fun, sir.

Yankee doodle, <fee.

* Uoitsen is a corruption for household.

t u A courting I went to my love,

Who is fairer than roses in May;
And when I got to her, by Jove,
The devil a word could I say."

See an old EnijlUh Comedy.
% Gal is, in New England, the vulgar pronunciation of
the word Girl.

§ Most of the householders in New England have their
washing, baking, and brewing done within theirown precincts.
A young lady who does not understand these branches of
business is considered as not qualified for matrimony.

598

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN" LITERATURE.

The ladies all, as I should guess,

And many a lady's man, sir,
"Would wish to know about her dress ;

I'll tell them all I can, sir.

Yankee doodle, <fec.

Her wrapper, grey, was not so bad,
Her apron eheck'd with blue, sir,

One stocking on one foot she had,
On t'other foot a shoe, sir.

Yankee doodle, <fec.

Now, should a Boston lady read,

Of Sally's shoe and stocking,
She'd say a " monstrous slut, indeed,

Oh la! — she is quite shocking !"

Yankee doodle, &e.

You fine Miss Boston lady, gay,
For this your speech, 1 thank ye,

Call on me, when you come this way,
And take a drachm of Yankee*

Yankee doodle, <fec.

Now Jonathan did scratch his head,
When first lie saw his dearest;

Got up — sat down — and nothing said,
But felt about the queerest,

Yankee doodle, &u.

Then talk'd with Sally's brother Joe
'Bout sheep, and cows, and oxen,

How wicked folks to church did go,
With dirty woollen flocks on.

Yankee doodle, <to.

And how a witch, in shape of owl,
Did steal her neighbour's geese, sir,

And turkies too, and other fowl,
When people did not please her.

Yankee doodle-, <fcc.

And how a man, one dismal night,
Shot her with silver bullet,-)-,

And then she flew straight out of sight,
As fast as she could pull it.

Yankee doodle, &e.

How Widow Wunks was sick next day.

The parson went to view her,
And saw the very place, they say,

Where foresaid ball went through her !
Yankee doodle, 4c.

And now the people went to bed :
They guess d for what he'd come, sir ;

But Jonathan was much afraid,
And wish'd himself at home, sir.

Yankee doodle, &e.

At length, says Sal, " they're gone, you Gee,

And we are left together ;"
Say Jonathan, " indeed — they be —

'Tis mighty pleasant weather!"

Yankee doodle, &c.

Sal east a sheep's eye at the dunce,
Then turn'd towards the fire ;

He muster'd courage, all at once,
And hiteh'd a little nigher.

Yankee doodle, &c.

Ye young men all, and lads so smart,
Who chance to read these vasscs,^

* A glass of whiskey, mixed with molasses, is so called in
New England, and is a common beverage with the peasantry.

+ There is a tale among the ghost-hunters in New England,
that silver bullets will be fatal to witches, when those of lead
would not avail.

$ Verses are thus pronounced by the rustics in New Eng-
laud.

His next address pray learn by heart,
To whisper to the lasses.

Yankee doodle, <fcc.

" Miss Sal, I's going to say, as how,
We'll spark it here to-night,
I kind of love you, Sal, I vow,
And mother said 1 might."

Yankee doodle, &a.

Then Jonathan, as we are told,
Did even think to smack her ;

Sal cock'd her chin, and look'd so bold,
He did not dare attack her!

Yankee doodle, &c.

" Well done, my man, you've broke the ice,

• And that with little pother,
Now, Jonathan, take my advice,

And always mind your mother !

Yankee doodle, &a.

" This courting is a kind of job
I always did admire, sir,
And these two brands, with one dry cob,
Will make a courting fire, sir."

Yankee doodle, ecu.

" Miss Sal, you are the very she,
If you will love me now,
That I will marry — then you 6ee,
You'll have our brindled cow.

Yankee doodle, &e.

" Then we will live, both I and you,
In father's t'other room,
For that will sartain hold us two,
When we've mov'd out the loom.

Yankee doodle, &c.

" Next Sabbath-day we will be cried,
And have a ' taring' wedding,
And lads and hisses take a ride,
If it should be good sledding.

Yankee doodle, <fec.

" My father has a nice bull calf,

Which shall be your's, my sweet one;
'Twill weigh two hundred and a hah,"
Says Sal, " well, that's a neat one."
Yankee doodle, tic.

" Your father's full of fun, d'ye see,
And faith, I likes his sporting,
To 6end his fav'rite calf to me,
His nice bull calf a courting."

Yankee doodle, <£e.

" Are you the lad who went to town,
Put on your streaked trowses,*
Then vow'd you could not see the town,
There were so many houses?"

Yankee doodle, <fec.

Our lover hung his under lip,

He thought she meant to joke him ;

Like heartless hen that has the pip,
His courage all forsook him.

Yankee doodle, <fec.

For he to Boston town had been,

As matters here are stated ;
Came home and told what he had seen.

As Sally has related.

Yankee doodle, &a.

And now he wish'd he could retreat,
But dar'd not make a racket ;

It seem'd as if his heart would beat
The buttons off his jacket!

Yankee doodle, <fec.

* Vulgar pronunciation of the word trowsera.

HOSEA BALLOU; ELIHU H. SMITH.

599

Sal ask'd him " if his heart was whole?"

His chin began to quiver ;
He saiil, lie felt so deuced droll,

He guess'd he'd lost his liver !

Yankee doodle, &a.

Now Sal was scar'd out of her wits,

To see his trepidation,
She bawl'd " lie's going into fits,"

And seamper'd like the nation!

Yankee doodle, &e.

A pail of water she did throw,

All on her trembling lover, ■
Which wet the lad from top to toe,

Like drowned rat all over.

Yankee doodle, <fcc.

Then Jonathan straight hied him home,
And since I've heard him brag, sir,

That though the jade did wet him some,
He didn't get the bag, sir !

Yankee doodle, keep it up,

Yankee doodle dandy,
Mind the music, mind the step,

And with the girls be handy I

HOSEA BALLOU.

Hosea, the youngest of the eleven children of the
Rev. Maturin Ballon, was born April 30, 1771, at
Richmond, New Hampshire. He was brought up
by his father, a Baptist clergyman, according to
the tenets of that sect, but received few of the
advantages of general education, there being no
school at his native village, and his time being so
fully occupied by the labors of the farm as to give
liim but few leisure moments for study. These
were, however, well improved, and other difficul-
ties arising from the meagreness of the family
means were also bravely mastered. He learned
to write by forming letters with a cinder on strips
of bark by the light of the fire; pen, paper, ink,
and candle-light being all too expensive luxuries
to be obtained.

At the age of nineteen he became connected
with his father's congregation, but soon after;
adopting the views of the Universalists, was ex-
pelled from membership. After some instruction
in ordinary English branches at the academy at
Chesterfield, New Hampshire, he commenced,
about the age of twenty, preaching as an itinerant.
The novelty of his views, and his ability as an ex-
tempore speaker, attracted great attention, and in
1794 he received an invitation to a permanent
congregation at Dana, Massachusetts. In 1796
he married, and five years later accepted a call to
Barnard, Vermont. He soon after, in 1804, pub-
lished Notes on the Parables, and a Treatise on
the Atonement, works in which he maintained the
doctrines he had adopted of the non-existence of
future punishment, limited or eternal, after death,
and of the non-e*istence of the Trinity. After
residing for six years at Barnard he removed to
Portsmouth, New Hampshire, where he remained
for the same period and then resided at Salem,
Massachusetts, Here he published a series of let-
ters addressed to Aimer Kneeland on the authen-
ticity of the Scriptures, On the fifteenth of De-
cember, 1817, he was installed a pastor of the
Second Universalis Society at Boston, a recently
formed association, who had erected a church for

his reception. In 1819 he commenced a weekly
journal, the Unieersalist Magazine, of which he-
remained editor for many years. Several of his
hymns appeared in its columns. In 1831 he also
commenced, with his nephew, the Rev. Hosea
Ballou, 2d, a leading clergyman of the same deno-
mination, a quarterly publication entitled the
Unwersalist Expositor* He edited this periodi-
cal for two years, and continued to contribute to
the pages of this and the first named journal until
his death — an event which occurred after an unin-
terrupted mini-try at Boston of thirty-five years,
on the seventh of June, 1852. In addition to the
works we have mentioned, Ballou published se-
veral collections of his sermons and treatises on
the doctrines he professed. A volume of his fu-
gitive verses consists mostly of hymns, many
of which are included in the Universalist collec-
tion, by Adams and Chapin.t Of these the fol-
lowing may be taken as a specimen.

BLESSINGS OF CHRIST'S UNIVERSAL REIGH.

When God descends with men to dwell,
And all creation makes anew,
- What tongue can half the wonders tell ?
What eye the dazzling glories view?

Zion, the desolate, again

Shall see her lands with roses bloom ;
And Carmel's mount, and Sharon's plain,

Shall yield their spices and perfume.

Celestial streams shall gently flow;

The wilderness shall joyful be;
Lilies on parched ground shall grow;

And gladness spring on every tree;

The weak be strong, the fearful bold,

The deaf shall hear, the dumb shall sing,

The lame shall walk, the blind behold;
And joy through all the earth shall ring

Monarchs and slaves shall meet in love ;

Old pride shall die, and meekness reign, —
When God descends from worlds above,

To dwell with men on earth again.

An edition of Ballou's collected writings has been
published.

The Rev. Hosea Ballou, 2d, still edits the Uni-
versalist Quarterly Review, to which he has con-
tributed many valuable articles. He is also the
author of the Ancient History of Unhersalism, in
which he endeavors to trace that doctrine to the
time of the Primitive Church.

Moses, the son of Hosea Ballon, is the author of
77(6 Divine Character Vindicated, a reply to
Beecher's Conflict of Ages. Another brother is
the editor of Ballou's Pictorial, and the author of
several popular tales. Another member of the
same family, the Rev. Adin Ballou, is the author
of several pamphlets on the Peace movement, of
which he is a leading advocate.

ELIHU H. SMITH.
Eliitu Hubbard Smith was born at Litchfield,
Conn., Sept. 4, 1771. He was educated at Yale
College, and completed his course at so early an

* Now the Universalist Quarterly Review.

t Hymns for Christian Devotion; especially adapted to the
Universalist i enomination. By J. G. Adams and E. II. Cha-
pin. Boston: Abel Tompkins. 1&16.

300

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

age that he was placed hy his father in charge
of Dr. Dwight, at Greenfield, to continue his lite-
rary studies, until sufficiently matured to com-
mence the study of medicine. This he prose-
cuted with his father, a physician of eminence,
and completed at Philadelphia, where he became
acquainted with Charles Brockden Brown. He
established himself in New York, keeping bache-
lor's hall with his friend William Johnson, the
lawyer, in genial and hospitable style, in a house
in Pine street, the bead-quarters of the Friendly
Club. He wrote a play, a number of sonnets and
essays for the magazines of the day, an operatic
version of the ballad of Edwin and Angelina,
played with indifferent success at the John Street
Theatre in 17M, and established in connexion
with his friends, Doctors Samuel L. Mitchill and
Edward Miller, a professional periodical entitled
the Medical Repository.

Elihu H. Smith.

In 1793 he edited the first collection ever made
of American poetry.* In 1798, during the hor-
rors of the yellow fever, he was unremitting in
the discharge of the duties of his profession. He
escaped the infection for a long time, but finally
fell a victim, under circumstances which do honor
to his humanity as well as intrepidity. A young
Italian, Joseph B. Scandella, who had during his
brief sojourn in America endeared himself to all
whose acquaintance he had formed, fell sick of the
fever, and was removed from the Tontine Coffee-
House by Smith to his own apartments. The
disease speedily proved fatal, not only to the pa-
tient but to the physician, who died Sept. 21,
1798.

Smith prefixed to the American edition of Dar-
win's Works an Epistle to the Author of the Bo-
tanic Garden, and also wrote an irregular poem,
somewhat after the manner of "Gray's Bard,"
descriptive of Indian character and manners.t It
was never printed, and accidentally destroyed,
with the author's other manuscripts, after his
death. It was pronounced by a competent judge
to be the author's best production.

* Ante, p. 319, note.

t Everest's Poets of Connecticut, p. 1C6.

EPISTLE TO THE AUTHOR OF THE BOTANIC GAEOEN.

For unknown ages, 'mid his wild abode,
Speechless and rude the human savage trode;
By slow degrees expressive sounds acquired,
And simple thoughts in words uncouth attired.
As growing wants and varying climes arise,
Excite desire and animate surprise,
Gradual his mind a wider circuit ranged,
His manners softened, and his language changed;
And grey experience, wiser than of yore,
Bequeathed its strange traditionary lore.

Again long ages mark the flight of time,
And lingering toil evolves the Art divine.
Coarse drawings first the imperfect thought revealed;
Next, barbarous forms the mystic sense concealed ;
Capricious signs the meaning then disclose ;
And last, the infant alphabet arose ;
From Kilus' banks adventurous Caomus errs,
And on his Thebes the peerless boon confers.

Slow spread the sacred art, its use was slow :
Whate'er the improvements later times bestow,
Still how restrained, how circumscribed its power!
Years raise the fruit an instant may devour.
Fond Science wept; the uncertain toil she viewed,
And in the evil, half forgot the good.
What though the sage, and though the bard inspired,
By truth illumined, and by genius fired,
In high discourse the theme divine prolong,
And pour the glowing tide of lofty song ;
To princes limited, to PujTt's' sons,
Tyrants of mines and heritors of thrones,
The theme, the song, scarce touched the genei-oi

mind,
Lost or secluded from oppressed mankind.
Fond Science wept ; how vain her cares she saw,
Subject to fortune's ever-varying law.
Month after month a single transcript claimed,
The style perchance, perchance the story maimed :
The guides to truth corrupted or destroyed,
A passage fi isted, or a painful void,
The work of ignorance, or of fraud more bold,
To blast a rival, or a scheme uphold ;
Or in the progress of the long review,
Th' original perished as the copy grew ;
Or, perfect both, while pilgrim bands admire,
The instant prey of accidental fire.
Fond Science wept ; whate'er of costliest use,
The gift and glory of each favoring Muse ;
From every land what genius might select;
What wealth might purchase, and what power

protect ;
The guides of youth, the comforters of age;
Swept by the besom of barbaric rage, —
Scarce a few fragments scattered o'er the field
Frantic in one sad moment she beheld.
" Nor shall such toil my generous sons subdue ;
Nor waste like this again distress the view !"
She cries : — where Harlem's classic groves
Embowering rise, with silent flight she moves ;
She marks Laurentius carve the beet-hen rind,
And darts a new creation on his mind :
A sudden rapture thrills the conscious shades ;
The gift remains, the bounteous vision fades.
Homeward, entranced, the Belgic sire returns;
New hope inspires him and new- ardor burns;
Secret he meditates his art by day :
By night fair phantoms o'er his fancy stray;
With opening morn they rush upon his soul,
Nor cares nor duties banish nor control ;
Haunt his sequestered path, his social scene,
And in his prayers seductive intervene,
Till shaped to method, simple, and complete.
The filial ear the joyful tidings greet.

STEPHEN ELLIOTT.

601

First, their nice hands the temper'd letter frame,
Alike in height, in width, in depth, the same;
Deep in the matrices secure infold,
And fix within, and justify, the mould;
The red amalgam from the cauldron take,
And flaming pour, and as they pour it, shake;
On the hard table spread the type congeal'd,
And smooth and polish on its marble field ;
While, as his busy fingers either plies,
The eiubrion parts of future volumes rise.

Next, with wise care, the slender plate they choose,
Of shining steel, and fit, with hardeu'd screws,
The shifting sliders, which the varying line
Break into parts, or yet as one confine ;
Whence, firmly bound, and fitted for the chase,
Imposed, it rests upon the stony base;
Tiff, hardly driven, the many figured quoins
Convert to forms the accumulated lines.

Then, with new toil, the upright frame they shape,
And strict connect it b3* the solid cap ;
The moving head still more the frame combines,
The guiding shelf its humbler tribute joins ;
While the stout winter erring change restrains,
And bears the carriage, and the press sustains :
The platen these, and spindle well connect,
Four slender bars support it, and direct,
As the high handle urging from above,
Downwards and forceful bids its pressure move.
Beneath, with plank the patent carriage spread,
Lifts the smooth marble on its novel bed,
Rides on its wheeled spit in rapid state,
Nor fears to meet the quick-descending weight.

Last, the wise sire the ready form supplies,
With cautious hands and scrutinizing eyes;
Fits the moist tgmpan (while the youth intent,
With patting balls, applies the sable paint),
Then lowers the frisket, turns the flying rounce,
And pulls amain the forceful bar at once ;
A second turn, a second pressure, gives,
And on the sheet the fair impression lives.
Raptured, the youth and reverend sire behold,
Press to their lips and to their bosoms fold;
Mingle their sighs, ecstatic tears descend,
And, face to face, in silent union blend:
Fond Science triumphs, and rejoicing Fame,
From pole to pole, resounds Laurentius' name.

Hence, doom'd no more to barbarous zeal a prey,
Genius and taste their treasured stores display ;
Nor lords, nor monks, alone, the sweets procure,
But old and young, the humble and the poor.

Hence, wide diffused, increasing knowledge flies,
And error's shades forsake the jaundiced eyes.
Man knows himself for man, and sees, elate,
The kinder promise of his future fate ;
Nations, ashamed, their ancient hate forego,
And find a brother, where they found a foe.

Hence, o'er the world (what else perchance con-
ceal'd,
Supprest for ages, or fore'er withheld.
To one small town, or shire, or state, confined,
In merit's spite to long neglect consigned,
The sport or victim of some envious flame,
Whence care nor art might rescue nor reclaim),
Flies the Botanic Song ; around
Successive nations catch the enchanting sound,
Glow as they listen, wonder as they gaze.
And pay the instructive page with boundless praise :
For not to Britain's parent isle alone,
Or what the East encircles with her zone,
The bounty flows, but spreads to neighboring realms,

And a new hemisphere with joy o'erwhclms.

Here, read witli rapture, studied with delight,

Long shall it charm the taste, the thought excite,

And youths and maids, the parent and the child,

Their minds illumined, and their griefs beguiled,

By all of fancjT, all of reason, moved,

Rise from the work invigor'd and improved.

Nor only here, nor only now, enjoy'd :

Where opes the interior desolate and void ;

Where Mississippi's turbid waters glide,

And white Missouri pours its rapid tide ;

Where vast Superior spreads its inland sea,

And the pale tribes near icy confines stray ;

" Where now Alaska lifts its forests rude,

And Nootka rolls her solitary flood ;"*

Where the fierce sun with ray severer rains

His floods of light o'er Amazonian plains;

Where, land of horrors I roam the giant brood

On the bleak margin of the antarctic flood;

In future years, in ages long to come —

When radiant justice finds again her home ;

Known, honor'd, studied, graced with nobler fame,

Its charms unfaded, and its worth tiie same,

To vaster schemes shall light the kindling view,

And lift to heights no earlier era knew,

Some ardent youth, some Fair whose beauties shine,

In mind, as person, only not divine ; —

In halls where Montezuma erst sat throned,

Whom thirty princes as their sovereign own'd,

In bowers where Manco labor'd for Peru,

While the white thread his blest Oella drew, —

Where Ataliba met a tyrant's rage, —

Entranced, shall ponder o'er the various page;

Or, where Oregon foams along the West,

And seeks the fond Pacific's tranquil breast;

With kindred spirit strike the sacred lyre,

And bid the nations listen and admire.

Hence keen incitement prompts the prying mind
By treacherous fears, nor palsied, nor confined ;
Ite curious search embrace the sea, and shore,
And mine and ocean, earth and air, explore.

Thus shall the years proceed — till growing time
Unfold the treasures of eacli differing clime ;
Till one vast brotherhood mankind unite
In equal bands of knowledge and of right.
Then the proud column, to the smiling skies,
In simple majesty sublime shall rise,
O'er Ignorance foil'd, their triumph loud proclaim,
And bear inscrib'd, immortal Darwin's name.

New York, March, 1798. '

STEPHEN ELLIOTT

Was born at Beaufort, S. C, on the 11th Novem-
ber, 1771. He was the son of William Elliott,
married to Miss Mary Barnwell in 1760. The
father died wliile Stephen was a child, but his
elder brother William took good care of his edu-
cation. After the preliminary studies he entered
Yale College in the sixteenth year of his age,
and graduated in 1791. He then delivered an
English Oration on " the Supposed Degeneracy of
Animated Nature," and took one of the highest
honors in his class. Among his college com-
panions were Chancellor Jones, Samuel Miles
Hopkins of New York, and Judge Gould of Litch-
field, Conn.

* This couplet is from an unpublished poem of my friend,
Mr. Eicliard Alsop; a poet who. Were his ambition equal to
his. talents, would appear amoug the poets of his time velui

inter iynes Itmu miuores.

602

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

In 1796 Stephen Elliott married Miss Esther
Habersham, of Georgia, and was elected a dele-

gate to the State Legislature, in which he con-
tinued to serve until the establishment of the
" Bank of the State" in 1812, of which he was
elected President. He then removed with his
family to Charleston. All his leisure hours had
for many years been devoted to literary pursuits,
to natural science, and to botany in particular.
Mr. Elliott was here considered the leader in all
associations for their advancement. He was the
founder of the Literary and Philosophical Society
in 1813, and commenced it by inviting to his own
house, at stated periods, such gentlemen as were
most likely to concur in this his favorite object.
In 1814 he delivered the first Anniversary Ad-
dress to that institution, remarkable alike for its
elegance of diction, and the capacity of his mind,
which could embrace such various pursuits of
science. His object was not only to explain their
relations to each other as branches of literature,
but to encourage the members to add zeal to
knowledge, and perseverance to enterprise. He
took the lead in what he recommended, and de-
livered a course of lectures on botany gratuitously,
to a large class of ladies and gentlemen. He like-
wise, in conjunction with Hugh S. Legare, be-
came editor of the " Southern Review," and him-
self wrote ten of its articles, viz., in No. 1 on
Napoleon Bonaparte. In No. 2 on the Constitu-
tion of the United States. In No. 3, three papers,
on Irving'a Columbus, Travels in Russia, and Na-
poleon Bonaparte. In No. 4 the Views of Nature,
and Internal Improvement. In No. 5 Walsh's
Narrative. In No. 6 the Manufacture of Sugar.
In No. 7 Education in German}-. In No. 8 Cuba,
and Classification of Plants. In No. 10 Bour-
'rienne's Memoirs.

Mr. Elliott was one of the earlie-t and warmest
advoca.es for the establishment of the Medical
College in 1S25, and was elected one of the
Faculty, and Professor of Natund History and
Botany. His most elaborate and valuable work,
his Botany of South Carolina and Georgia, was
compiled and published in the midst of these
laborious engagements, financial and scientific; the
first volume appeared in the year 1821, and the
second in 1821.* This accumulation of business,
mental and bodily, was too great for him to sus-

* In the preparation of this work on Botany. Elliott was
gTeatly agisted by Dr. James M'Bride, particularly in the
notices of the medicinal properties of many indigenous plants.
M'Bride was a native of South Carolina, born in the Williams-
burg District. April 17. 17S4. Left an oiphan at an early aire,
and with hnmble means, he devoted himself earnestly to his
college studies at Yale, at a time when Bishop Giadsden,
Grinike. and Calhoun were his companions there, economizing
his resources by his superior industry in pa- sirg rapidly through
the college studies. His love of natural science led him to the
study of medicine, which he pursued with the same ardor and
economy of time and money. He settled as a physician in
Pineville, S. C. aDd communicated artie'es on the botany of the
region to the scientific and medical societies of the day. He
died young, September 21. 1S17. from fatisrue and exposure
in his efforts to alleviate the yellow fever of that year at
Charleston.

tain; he died suddenly in 1830, struck down by
apoplexy.

Mr. Elliott has left a family emulous in good
works. Among them, his oldest son, the Rt. Rev.
Stephen Elliott, is the Bishop of Georgia; his
youngest, James H. Elliott, is the favorite assist-
ant minister of St. Michael's, Charleston; and his
daughter is the wife of Bishop Boone, the dis-
tinguished head of the China Mission.

CHAEXES CALDWELL,

A physician of Philadelphia, whose career may
be traced with interest through the pages of his
autobiography, was a writer of industry and
ability, and of original powers of reflection. He
was the son of an Irish lieutenant, who, on his
emigration to America, settled in Delaware, and
6ubsei|uently removed to North Carolina, and
established himself " in a region which but a
short time previously had been the home of the
savage, whose haunts and hunting grounds were
still but a short distance remote from it, in
Orange, now Caswell County, on Moon's Creek,
a small branch of Dan River, about twenty miles
south of the southern border of Virginia." There
our author was born, May 14, 1772. His early
education in that ill-furnished district was picked
up more by his own sagacity and perseverance,
than through the assistance of others. In his
boyhood he assisted in building a small log-bonse
near his father's crowded home, that he might
have an opportunity of studying by himself. His
father removing to the southern portion of the
State, he there fell in with better opportunities
of instruction, being taught by an estimable
schoolmaster named Harris, "who subsequently
became Tutor in the College of New Jersey, and
of whose eccentric appearance Caldwell has left
an account in his autobiography. With some
slight additional preparation at an "academy,"
the latter became himself a teacher, taking charge
at first of the Snow Creek Seminary, " situated
on a stream of that name, not far from the foot
of the Bushy Mountains in North Carolina," and
afterwards of the Centre Institute in the same
State. Still pursuing his own studies, his taste was
directed to topics of scientific study by meeting
with Samuel Stanhope Smith's Essay on the
Variety of Color in the Human Race, to the
positions of which he became thus early an an-
tagonist.

In the choice of a profession, after meditating
the Presbyterian pulpit and the law, he chose
medicine, and pursued the study for a time with
the inefficient aid of a practitioner at Salisbury,
in his native state. In 1792 he arrived at Phila-
delphia, and engaged witK the medical classes of
the University, which at that time were sustained
by Shippen and Wistar in Anatomy and Surgery,
and Rush in the Institutes of Medicine. He en-
gaged with ardor in the study, aud enjoyed the
personal friendship of Rush aud others, while
he devoted himself assiduously to his profession
during the arduous yellow fever season of 1793.
On the breaking out of the Whiskey Insurrection,
he received the appointment of surgeon to a
brigade, and proceeded with the forces to the
neighborhood of Pittsburgh, when the difficulty
was declared to be terminated, aud the troops

CHARLES CALDWELL.

603

retired. In the military banquet which followed,
the management of the affair was assigned to
Caldwell, whose address on the occasion drew
forth a liberal compliment from Hamilton.

In 1795, he commenced his literary career by
translating Blumenbach's Elements of Physiology
from the Latin, followed within a few years by a
number of medical treatises, on the Epidemic of
the city, the vitality of the blood, physiognomy,
quarantine?, and other subjects of a speculative
and practical character. \ In 1814-, he became the
editor of the Port Folio, succeeding Nicholas Bid-
die in the management of the work, to winch he
gave new efficiency by his ready pen and activity
of mind, covering a great variety of subjects and
securing immediate succes j by the introduction of
original material relating to the conduct and
heroes of the war with England, which had then
just commenced. He secured the last by his inti-
macy and correspondence with the officers. " So
earnest and determined," he tells us, " was Gene-
ral Brown in the scheme, that he asserted, in one
of his letters, that ho reported himself and order-
ed his officers to report themselves, in their con-
nexion with all interesting events of the army, as
regularly to the editor of the Port Folio as they
did to him, or as he did to the Secretary of War.'-
The articles in the Port Folio by Caldwell were
chiefly biographical, or reviews of the prominent
books of poetry of the day. In 1816, at the sug-
gestion of Dr. Chapman, he edited Cnllen's Prac-
tice of Physic, and the same year wrote most of
the biography in Delaplaine's Repository. He
was also at this time professor of Natural History
in the University of Pennsylvania. In 1819, he
published his Life and Campaigns of General
Greene, the most important in extent of his bio-
graphical studies. In 1819, he removed to Ken-
tucky, to take charge of a medical department in
the Transylvania University at Lexington. His
place was that of the Institutes of Medicine and
Clinical Practice. Besides the immediate duties
of instruction, Dr. Caldwell had to interest the
state legislature in the school, and create a pres-
tige for Western medical education throughout
that whole region. He succeeded in securing
funds from the state, and by his journeys a fa-
vorable public opinion towards the enterprise.
In 1820, be set out on an eight months' tour to
Europe, for the purpose of purchasing books and
materials for the institution. His notices of the
celebrities of London and Paris on this tour
sketched in his autobiography, include among
others Sir Astley Cooper, Abernethy whose oddi-
ty he fairly mastered by his decision and self-
possession, Mrs. Somerville whose remarkable
attainments put the doctor's universality to a test .
in a conversation running over criticism and the
sciences.

After eighteen years' devotion to the Transyl-
vania University, rinding a new site for the school
desirable and the trustees offering to make a
change of locality which had been contemplated,
he withdrew from that institution in 1837 to es-
tablish in the neighboring city the " Louisville
Medical Institute." He encountered the labors of
this new enterprise with resolution, procuring
funds and securing professors. After six years'
devotion to this arduous work, difficulties aro-e
between Dr. Caldwell and the trustees, and in

1849, when he was on the eve of closing his con-
nexion with the institute, he was removed by the
Board. The remainder of his life was passed in
retirement at Louisville till his death at that place
July 9, 1853. He occupied himself during these
la ;t years with the composition of his Au'ohiogra-
phy, which was published in 1855, with a brief con-
clusion by the editress, Harriot W. Warner. It
affords abundant indication of the abilities of the
man, and of the sources of opposition which he
frequently encountered. Of bold, vigorous pow-
ers, his egotism and self-assertion appear constant-
ly on the alert. The activity and energy of his
mind are remarkable; but a certain uneasiness of
temper lessens the force of bis abilities. The
style of the autobiography is diffuse and impeded
by cumbrous expressions; while it contains much
written with strength and insight which will con-
tinue to be of interest, both for the idiosyncrasy of
tlu author and the important people with whom he
was brought into relation. The closing chapter
enumerating the author's " published writings
and translations" from 1794 to 1851, embraces a
catalogue of more than two hundred items, in-
cluding magazine articles and pamphlets, but
many large works as well. Among the latter, in
addition to those which we have noticed, may be
mentioned a volume of Memoirs of the lieu. Dr.
Eornce Holly ; B ichtiir Jfauteh, or the Boyd
Foundling, a Persian Story, translated from the
Arabic ; and various publications of medical and
physical memoirs, growing out of his advocacy of
Phrenology, with which he was greatly identified,
and his more immediate professional pursuits.

SKETCH OF THE REV. JAMES HALL, OF NORTH CAROLINA.*

An early acquaintance, of whom it is peculiarly
pleasing to me to speak (though lie was advanced in
years when I was but a boy), was the Rev. James Hall,
D.D., of Iredell County. In piety he was peculiarly
signalized; and his aspect was more vegetable and
apostolic than that of any other man I have ever
beheld. His intellect was also of a high order, espe-
cially in mathematics, astronomy, and mechanics ;
and, in the power and majesty of pulpit eloquence,
he had no superior.

In mathematical and astronomical science he gave
me my earliest and most instructive lessons. And
lie was certainly one of the first, if not himself the
very first constructor of a steamboat. And the inven-
tion was original with him, not derivative. I wit-
nessed myself the movement of his first model (a
structure five or six feet long), over a small pond
on his own plantation. But he was too deeply en-
grossed by his clerical labours to pursue his inven-
tion to any useful effect.

I have said that Dr. Hall was a man of great and
moving pulpit eloquence. Of the truth of this, the
following occurrence gives ample proof: —

On a sacramental occasion, in Poplar-tent congre-
gation, in Cabarrus County, the assemblage of people
was far too great to be contained in the meeting-
house. The time being summer, suitable arrange-
ments were made, and the multitude were seated
beneath the shade of a dense forest of ancient oaks;
and Dr. Hall addressed them from a temporary
stage erected for the purpose. In the course of his
sermon, which, from beginning to end, was bold and
fervent, he took occasion to liken the condition of a
heedless and reckless sinner to that of a wild and

* From tile Autobiography.

604

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAS" LITERATURE.

unthinking youth, crossing, in a slight batteau, a
deep and rapid river, a short distance above a lofty
and frightful waterfall.

On each bank of the stream were members of the
famity and friends of the young man eyeing, in wild
distraction and horror, the perils of his situation,
and loudly calling to him, in screams of terror, to
ply his oars and press for the shore. But he either
hears them not, or disregards their supplication ;
and in perfect negligence and apparent security,
giving only with his oars an occasional stroke, gazes
on the beauties of the landscape around him, the
azure of the heavens, the birds disporting in air
above him, his faithful, but terrified dog, crouching
by his side, and looking him affectionately and im-
ploringly in the face ; he gazes, in fact, upon every-
thing visible, except the waterfall, near to him, and
the gulf beneath it, towards which, with fearful
power and rapidity, the current is sweeping him.
But, suddenly, at length awakened from his revery,
he hears the distracted and piercing calls of his
friends, sees their bent bodies and extended arms, as
if outstretched to save him ; beholds the cataract,
over whose awful brink he is impending, and, horror-
stricken at the sight, starting up and convulsively
reaching out his wide-spread hands, as if imploring
a rescue, and uttering an unearthly shriek of
despair, is headlong plunged and swallowed up in
the boiling gulf that awaits him.

So completely had the words of the orator ar-
rested and enthralled the minds of his audience, so
vivid and engrossing was the scene he had pictured
to their imaginations, and so perfectly, for his pur-
pose, had he converted fiction into reality, that,
when he brought his victim to shoot the cataract, a
scream was uttered by several women, two or three
were stricken down by their emotion, and a large
portion of the assembled multitude made an involun-
tary start, as if, by instinct, impelled to an effort to
redeem the lost one, and restore him to his friends.

Never did I, in any other instance, except one,
witness an effort of oratory so powerful and bewitch-
ing ; and, in that one, I myself was materially con-
cerned, and in it a two-fold source of influence was
employed — impassioned eloquence and scenic show.
It occurred very many years ago, in the Chestnut
Street Theatre, in Philadelphia, during the perform-
ance of "Alexander the Great." The " Rival
Queens" were personated ; Statira, by Mrs. Wignel,
afterwards, by another marriage, Sirs. Warren, and
Roxana by Mrs. Whitlock, the sister of Mrs. Siddon3.
In the murder scene, so completely successful were
those two accomplished actresses, that, in my fasci-
nated view of the matter, playful fiction had given
place to vindictive reabty, and, when Roxana drew
her glittering dagger, preparatory to the murderous
act she meditated, I (being seated in the stage-box)
sprang to my feet, and would have disarmed her in
a moment, had I not been prevented by a gentleman
in the box. "Whether any person but myself now
remembers the event, I know not; but its effect at
that time was memorable and ludicrous. It drew
from pit, box, and gallery, directed towards myself,
a round or two of hearty laughter and applause, and
utterly spoiled the after part of the play, by chang-
ing it from tragedy into comedy or farce.

Still further to evince the versatility and value of
the powers, both bodily and mental, of the Rev. Br.
Hall, at the most unpromising period of our revo-
lutionary war, in the South, when thick clouds were
gathering on the horizon of freedom, when the hopes
of the most sanguine and the hearts of the bravest
seemed ready to fail, and every service of every
patriot was called for in the contest — at that period
of gloom and incipient despondency, the equally

brave and venerable Hall, to the sword of the Spirit,
which he had long and successfully wielded, added
that of the secular arm, by soliciting and readily
obtaining, on two conditions, proposed by himself, a
captaincy in a regiment of volunteer dragoons, to
continue in service for at least a year, unless sooner
disbanded by the termination of the war. And the
conditions were, that his company should be raised
by himself, and that he should act as chaplain, with-
out pay, to the regiment to which he might belong.
Whether he received pav as captain I do not remem-
ber, but believe he did not.

On these terms, he was soon at the head of a full
and noble-looking company, on his march to the seat
of war, where, as often as a suitable opportunity
presented itself, lie never failed to distinguish him-
self by his gallantry and firmness. An excellent
rider, personally almost Herculean, possessed of a
very long and flexible arm, and taking, as he did,
daily lessons from a skilful teacher of the art, he be-
came, in a short time, one of the best swordsmen in
the cavalry of the South. Beii g found, moreover,
to be as judicious in council as he was formidable in
action, he received the sobriquet of the Ulysses of
his regiment.

On the capture of Lord Cornwallis, believing the
war to be on the verge of its termination, and per-
suaded that he could now more effectually serve his
country in a civil than in a military capacity, hav-
ing declined the acceptance of a proffered majority
in a regiment of select cavalry about to be formed,
he resigned his commission, and returned to the
duties of the clerical profession.

It was long after this that I became, for a time,
his private pupil in mathematics and astronomy.
And, notwithstanding his previous stern and for-
midable qualities as a soldier, he was now one of the
mildest and meekest of men. After a Iap>se of more,
perhaps, than twenty years from the period of my
pupillage under him, I saw him for the last time, in
the city of Philadelphia, as a delegate to the General
Assembly of the Presbyterian Church, and had the
high gratification of affording him relief from a
troublesome complaint, produced by fatigue and
exposure in travelling.

From the superior size of his person, the form and
grandeur of his head and countenance, the snowy
whiteness of his hair, of but little of which he had
been shorn by the hand of time, and from the sur-
passing venerableness of his whole appearance, he
was by far the most attractive and admired person-
age in the reverend body of which be was a mem-
ber. He was instinctively regarded, by all who
beheld him, as the rightful Nestor and ornament of
the Assembly. He died, not long afterward, at the
advanced age of about ninety years, bequeathing to
posterity a reputation rarely equalled, and never,
as I verily believe, surpassed, in moral rectitude,
pure, fervent, and practical piety, and usefulness in
the wide sphere of his diversified labors in the
Christian ministry, by any individual our country
has produced.

"WILLIAM CLIFFTON,

Ax author of fine poetical powers, among the
early writers of the country, was a native of
Philadelphia, born in 1772. He was of a Quaker
family, and his father was a wealthy mechanic.
The constitution of the son was delicate, with a
tendency to consumption, which excited the early
exercise of his faculties. At the age of nineteen,
the rupture of a blood-vessel led to his abandon-
ment of any notions he may have entertained of
active life ; when he found consolation and em-

WILLIAM CLIFFTON.

G05

ployment in literature. His tastes soon led him
to relinquish the Quaker dress, and he became a
proficient in the accomplishments of music and
drawing. He was also especially fond of field
sports. When Jay's treaty brought out much un-
worthy opposition to the government, Oliffton
exercised his pen in support of the administra-
tion in satires, published in the newspapers, in
prose and verse on the demagogues. The longest
of these satirical productions was entitled The
Group, in which various mechanics and trades-
men, Solon Verges a carpenter, Nat Fnttoek a
shipwright, Gobbo Finis a coffin-maker, John
Stripe a schoolmaster, with others, are repre-
sented as meeting for discussion on topics beyond
their reach, respecting politics and the state.
The coarse and vulgar material of low Jacobinism,
which is not at all disguised in the poem, is oc-
casionally elevated by the polish of the author's
verses. This is the melancholy conclusion —

The hour is hastening, when on equal feet,
Exalted Virtue, and low Vice shall meet ;
When Envy, Faction, Indolence shall rage,
In one wild tempest, thro' the troubled age;
Then human dignity shall meet its doom ;
Devotion perish, Reason, Worth, a tomb,
In the rude wastes of Ignorance, shall find,
And true Equality shall bless mankind.
So when the Kamsin of the Desert flies
'Twixt ardent sands, and summer kindled skies.
The gasping trav'ler meets the arid death,
And, prostrate in the dust, resigns his breath.
Then shall no pedant priest, with learned pride,
Point out the sacred volume for our guide ;
No more the civil law, or moral page,
The arm shall fetter, or the soul encage ;
But pile on pile the File of Arts shall raise,
And all the knowledge of all ages blaze.
As when the gothic conflagration hurl'd,
Its smoky volumes round the sleeping world :
The Fiend of Ruin, with demoniac yell,
Flits round the flame, directs the work of hell,
With sheets of sulphur wing- the driving gale,
And shakes destruction from his dragon tnil.
Yet, not as then : the once extinguished ray
Shall ne'er resuscitate another day;
Here, Science, thy last stage of being lies,
No other Phoenix from thy dust shall rise,
And no sad vestige shall remain to tell.
The temple's basis, where thoulov'dst to dwell.

•Mi

ttJiCueff7S,SC

William Cliffton.

.1 Rhapsody on the Times in Hudihrastic mea-

sure, and the unfinished poem the Chimeriad,
give vent to similar complaints. The humor of
opposition to France, and the cry of war, are
carried to an extreme. Cliffton was member of
an association called the Anchor Club, which is
described in the preface to his poems, as com-
bining social purposes with the object of " pro-
ducing a disposition in the public mind towards
war with France." A paper in both prose and
verse, which he read to this circle, is one of the best
of his satirical effusions. It appears in the volume
of the poems: — Some Account of a Manuscript
found among the papers of a French Emigrant
in London, entitled TalleyramVs Descent into
Hell. The arch French intriguer, in imitation of
Ulysses and other heroes of antiquity, visits the
infernal regions. His initiatory interview with
Charou is thus described —

With what species of " diplomatic skill " Talley-
rand prevailed on Charon to ferry him over the
sable waters, is not known ; for, where the letters
again begin to brighten into form, we find the Mi-
nister and Cerberus about to commence a negotia-
tion. This part seems so charmingly managed by
the poet (for here he is a poet), that we shall tran-
scribe it for the amusement of our readers.

The triple monster from his hellish bed,
Rous'd as he heard the limping hero's tread,
Rush'd to his kennel door, to take his stand,
Shook his three heads, and growl'd this stern de-
mand:
Whence and what art thou, execrable fool ?
What boatman brought thee o'er the Stygian pool?
Where is thy passport? where thy golden bough ?
What climate breeds such crooked things as thou ?•

To these interrogations Talleyrand could not listen
without emotion ; lie felt the blood withdraw itself
from his extremities, and flow all cold aud curling
into the very centre of his heart. Some time elapsed
before the work retrieved its locomotive faculty ;
but at length the petrifaction began to dissolve, and
his tongue was again loosened from its fear-bound
captivity. His " diplomatic skill," that powerful
charm which had unnerved so many nations, he had
taken care to bear about him, and now, when perils
crowded on him, he began to shake it up for use. He
thus addressed the Porter of Hell : —

Ah ! Cerberus, I love thee from my heart;
So kind and gentle in thy way thou art!
How meek thy mien, and musical thy voice 1
Thy tail 'tis true — but then a tail's thy choice.
It kills my heart to see a beast so brave,
Witli many heads, and every one a slave.
When shall I see your lady-bitch, good now?
(The breed's a most prodigious breed I vow ;
And e'er to t'other world I journey up,
Methinks I'll ask the devil for a pup.
In " peace and safety" might my masters snore
With such a dog to guard their palace door) — aside.

He is treated to a painful view of the acts of
his revolutionary coadjutors, after which he is
carried to the scenes of Elysium, where we are
presented with tins pleasing picture of old France
under its beloved monarchical rule.

The time has been, ere scribbling knaves began
To claim more rights than God designed for man;
To teach mankind that passion never strays;
That human nature's just in all her waj'S;
That Christian laws are ludicrously nice,
And sweet, oh ! sweet's the downy bed of vice ; —
Ere convict thieves, at their own fate amazed,

606

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Were from the gallows to the pulpit raised ;

Ere, in the face of guilt-annoying day,

The mother play'd to show her child the way ;

Ere the son pluck'd the hoary father's beard,

Ere beggars reign'd, and beggars' trulls were fear'd;

While Paris, yet, could plead her virtuous ten,

And prayers sincere were mutter'd now and then;

The time has been, that gave the rustic throng,

Their evening ballet, and their morning sot.g,

E'en Paris, then, her harmless joys could boast;

Who was most upright, then, was honor'd most ;

And no vile blush our grateful cheeks o'erspread

To ask a blessing on our monarch's head.

In those good days it was not strange to bend,

With cordial friendship, o'er a bleeding friend;

To see a foe in cureless anguish lay,

And smooth'd his pillow as he passed away.

Then, want was furnish'd with the means to live,

For men had hearts to feel, and hands to give ;

Then wealth dispensed what happiness it could,

To taste the luxury of doing good ;

Then beauty wept at sympathy's command,

And love was then no stranger in the land.

Tell me, false Autun, what lias France obtaiii'd

In lieu of these; what great advantage gaiu'd.

With all your new illumination fired.

With licence bless'd, with sacrilege inspired ;

With venerable piles in ruin laid.

By village tales the wood god's dwellings made ;

With all the hamlet's sweet delights o'erthrown ;

With flocks undone, and pious pastors flown ;

With knaves carousing where the poor were fed,

With every gen'rotis, social virtue dead ;

Witli all these blessings added to your store, —

Say, are you better, happier than before ?

When Gifford's " B.iviad and Mseviad" was re-
published in Philadelphia, Cliifton contributed a
prefatory poetical epistle to the author, which
opens with his complaint —

In these coll shades, beneath these shifting skies,
Where Fancy sickens, and where Genius dies.

His death occurred in December, 1799, in the
twenty-seventh year of his age. His poems were
collected in a volume, published in New York the
following year.*

These " occasional poems" display the poetic
culture of the scholar, and an original fancy
which had marked out a path for itself, which it
is to be regretted was closed by so early a dis-
solution.

EPISTLE TO W. GIFFOKD, E8Q.
Written at the request of Mr. Cobbett, and prefixed to his
edition of that genUematCe elegant poem, " T/tejSaviad and
Maviad"

In the-e cold shades, beneath these shifting skies,
Where Fancy sickens, and where Genius dies;

* Poems, chiefly occasional, by the late Mr. Cliffton. To
wiiicli aie prefixed, Introductory Notices of the Lite. Charac-
ter, and Writings of tlie Author, and an Engraved Likeness.

Quis desiderio sit pudor ant modus
Tarn car] capitis? Precipe lugubrca
Cautus, Melpomene, cui iiquidam pater

Vocem cum Cithara dedit.
Ergo Qnintilinm perpetuus sopor
Urget? cui Pudor, et Justitia* soror
Incorrupta Fides, uudaque Veritas

Quando ullum invenient parem ?
Mujtis ille bonis flebilis oocidit ?
Null! flcbilior qnam tibi, Virgili.
Durum : sed levins tit patientia

Quicqnid corrigere est nefas.

New York : Printed for J. W. Fenno, by G. and E. Waite.
1800.

Where few and feeble are the Muse's strains,
And no fine frenzy riots in the veins,
There still are found a few to whom belong
The fire of virtue and the soul of song ;
Whose kindling ardour still can wake the strings
When learning triumphs, and when Gilford sings.
To thee the lowliest bard his tribute pays,
His little wild-flower to thy wreath conveys;
Pleas'd, if permitted round thy name to bloom,
To boast one effort resc.ed from the tomb.

While this delirious age enchanted seems
With hectic fancy desultory dreams ;
While wearing fast away is every trace
Of Grecian vigour, and of Roman grace,
With fond delight, we yet one bard behold,
As Horace polish'd, and as Persius bold,
Reclaim the art, assert the muse divine,
And drive obtrusive dulness from the shrine.
Since that great day which saw the tablet rise,
A thinking block, and whisper to the eyes,
No time lias been that touch'd the muse so near,
No age when learning had so much to fear,
As now, when love-lorn ladies light verse frame,
And every rebus-weaver talks of fame.

When truth in classic majesty appenr'd,
And Greece, on high, the dome of science rear'd,
Patience and perseverance, care and pain
Alone the steep, the rough ascent could gain :
None but the great the sun-clad summit sound ;
The weak were baffled, and the strong were erown'd.
The tardy transcript's high-wrought page confin'd
To one pursuit the undivided mind.
No venal critic fatten'd on the trade,
Books for delight, and not for sale were made;
Then shone, superior, in the realms of thought,
The chief who govern'd, and the sage who taught.
The drama then with deathless buj-s was wreath'd,
The statue quicken'd, and the canvass bieath'd.
The poet, then, with unresisted art,
Sway'd every impulse of the captive heart,
Touch'd with a beam of heaven's creative mind,
His spirit kindled, and his taste refin'd ;
Incessant toil inform'd his rising youth ;
Thought grew to thought, and truth attracted truth,
Till, all complete, his perfect soul di- play'd
Some bloom of genius which could never fade.
So the sage oak, to nature's mandate true,
Advauc'd but slow, and strengllien'd as it grew I
But when at lei gih (full many a season o'er),
Its virile head, in pride, aloft it bore ;
When steadfast were its roots, and sound its heart,
It bade defiance to the insect's art,
And, storm and time resisting, still remains
The never dying glory of the plains. .

Then, if some thoughtless Bavins dared appear,
Short was his date, and limited his spheie ;
He could but please the changeling mob a day,
Then, like his noxious labours pass away ;
So near a forest tall, some worthless flower,
Enjoys the triumph of its gaudy hour,
Scatters its little poison thro' the skies,
Then droops its empty, hated head, and dies.

Still, as from fam'd Ilyssus' classic shore,
To Mincius' banks, the muse her laurel bore,
The sacred plant to hands divine was given,
And deathless ilaro nursed the boon of heaven.
Exalted bard ! to hear thy gentler voice,
The vallies listen, and their swains rejoice;
But when, on some wild mountain's awful form,
We hear thy spirit chaunting to the storm,
Of battling chiefs, and armies laid in gore,
We rage, we sigh, we wonder and adore.
Thus Rome, with Greece, in rival splendour shone,

WILLIAM CLIFFTON.

607

But claimed immortal satire for her own ;
While Horace piere'J, full oft, the wanton breast
With sportive censure, and resistless jest ;
And that Etrurian, whose indignant lay
Thy kindred genius can so well display,
With many a well aim'd thought, and pointed line,
Drove the bold villain from his black design.
For, as those mighty masters of the lyre,
With temper'd dignity, or quenchless ire,
Through all the various paths of science trod,
Their school was Nature, a:id their teacher God.
Nor did the muse decline till, o'er her head.
The savage tempest of the north was spread ;
Till ai'm'd with desolation's bolt it came,
And wrapp'd her temple in funereal flame.

But soon the arts, once more, a dawn diffuse,
And Dante hail'd it with his morning muse;
Petrarch and Boccace join'd the choral lay,
And Arno glisteu'd with returning day.
Thus science rose; and all her troubles past:
She hop'd a steady, tranquil reign at last;
But Fanstus came (indulge the painful thought) ;
Were not his countless volumes dearly bought?
For, while to every clime and class they flew,
Their worth diminish'd and their numbers grew.
Some pressman, rich in Homer's glowing page,
Could give ten epics to one wondering age ;
A single thought supplied the great design,
And clouds of Iliads spread from every line.
Nor Homer's glowing page, nor Virgil's fire.
Could one lone breast, with equal flame, inspire,
But lost in books, irregular and wild,
Then poet wonder'd, and the critic smil'd:
The friendly smile, a bulkier work repays;
For fools will print, while greater fools will praise.

Tonch'd with the mania, now, what millions rage
To shine the laureat blockheads of the age.
The dire contagion creeps thro' every grade,
Girls, coxcombs, peers, and patriots drive the trade :
And e'en the hind, his fruitful fields forgot,
For rhyme and misery leave his wife and cot.
Ere, to his breast, the watchful mischief spread,
Conte it and plenty eheer'd his little shed'
And while no thoughts of state perplex'd his mind,
His harvests ripening, and Pastora kind,
He laugh'd at toil, with health and vigour bless'd;
For davs of labor brought their nights of rest:
But now in rags, ambitious for a name,
The fool of faction, and the dupe of fame,
His conscience haunts him with his guilty life,
His starving children, and his ruin'd wife.
Thus swarming wits, of all materials made.
Their Gothic hands on social quiet, laid,
And, as they rave, unmindful of the storm,
Call lust refinement, anarchy reform.

No love to foster, no dear friend to wrong,
Wild as the mountain flood, they drive along,
Anil sweep, remorseless, every social bloom
To the dark level of an endless tomb.

By arms nssail'd, we still can arms oppose,
And rescue learning from her brutal foes ;
But when those foes to friendship make pretence,
And tempt the judgment with the baits of sense,
Carouse with passion, laugh at God's controul,
And sack the little empire of the soul,
What warning voice can save ? Alas ! 'tis o'er,
The age of virtue will return no more ;
The doating world, its manly vigor flown.
Wanders in mind, and dreams on folly's throne.
Come then, sweet bard, again the cause defend,
Be still the muses' and religion's friend ;
Again the banner of thy wrath display,

And save the world from Darwin's tinsel lay,
A soul like thine no listless pause should know ;
Truth bids thee strike, and virtue guides the blow.
From every conquest still more dreadful come,
Till dulness fly, and folly's self be dumb.
Philadelphia, May 13, 1799.

TO A ROCTN.

From winter so dreary and long,

Escap'd, ah ! how welcome the day,
Sweet Bob with his innocent song,

Is return'd to his favourite spray.
When the voice of the tempest was heard,

As o'er the bleak mountain it pass'd,
He hied to the thicket, poor bird I

And shrank from the pitiless blast.
By the maid of the valley survey'd,

Did she melt at thy comfortless lot?
Her hand, was it stretcli'd to thy aid,

As thou pick'dst at the door of her cot?
She did ; and the wintry wind,

May it howl not around her green grove;
Be a bosom so gentle and kind,

Only fann'd by the breathings of love.
She did ; and the kiss of her swain,

With rapture, the deed shall requite,
That gave to my window again,

Poor Bob and his song of delight.

TO FANCY.

Airy traveller, Queen of Song,
Sweetest Fancy, ever young,
I to thee my soul resign ;
All my future life be thine :
Rich or beggar'd, chaiu'd or free,
Let me live and laugh with thee.

' Pride perhaps may knock, and say,
" Rise thou slugg ird, come away :"
But can he thy joy impart,
Will he crown my leaping heart?
If I banish hence thy smile,
Will he make it worth my while ?

Is my lonely pittance past,
Fleeting good too light to last,
Lifts my friend the latch no more,
Fancy, thou canst all restore ;
Thou canst, with thy airy shell,
To a palace raise my cell.

At night while stretch'd on lowly bed,
When tyrant tempest shakes my shed,
And pipes aloud; how bless'd am I,
All cheerii g nymph, if thou art by,
If thou art by to snatch my soul
Where billows rage and thunders roll.
From cloud, o'er-peering mountain's brow
We'll mark the mighty coil below,
While round us innocently play
The light'ning's flash, and meteor's ray.
And, all so sad, some spectre form,
Is heard to moan amid the storm.
With thee to guide my steps I'll creep
In some old haunted nook to sleep,
Lull'd by the dreary night-bird's scream,
That flits along the wizard stream,
And there, till morning 'gins appear,
The tales of troubled spirits hear.

Sweet's the dawn's ambiguous light,
Quiet pause 'tween day and night,
When, afar, the mellow horn,
Chides the tardy gdted morn,
And asleep is yet the gale
On sea-beat mount, and rivcr'd vale.

608

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

But the morn, tho' sweet and fair,
Sweeter is when thou art there;
Hymning stars successive fade,
Fairies hurtle thro' the shade,
Love-lorn flowers I weeping see,
If the scene is touch'd by thee.

When unclouded shines the day,
When my spirits dance and play,
To some sunny bank we'll go,
"Where the fairest roses blow,
And in gamesome vein prepare
Chaplets for thy spangled hair.

Thus through life with thee 111 glide,
Happy still whate'er betide,
And while plodding sots complain,
Of ceaseless toil and slender gain,
Every passing hour shall be
Worth a golden age to me.

Then lead on, delightful power,
Lead, oh! lead me to thy bower:
I to thee my soul resign,
All my future life be thine.
Rich or beggar'd, chain'd or free,
Let me live and laugh with thee.

IL PENSEEOSO.

I hate this spungy world, with all its 6tore,
Tliis bustling, noisy, nothingness of life,

This treacherous herd of friends with hollow core,
This vale of sorrow, and this field of strife.

Me, shall some little tranquil thatch receive,
Some settled low content, remote from care,

There will I pipe away the sober eve,

And laugh all day at Lady Fortune there.

Why should I mingle in the mazy ring,
Of drunken folly at the shrine of chance?

Where insect pleasure flits on burnished wing,
Eludes our wishes, and keeps up the dance.

When in the quiet of an humble home,
Beside the fountain, or upon the hill,

Where strife and care and sorrow never come,
I may be free and happy, if I will.

BONG.

Boy, shut to the door, and bid trouble begone,
If sorrow approach, turn the key,
Our comfort this night from the glass shall be drawn,
And mirth our companion shall be.

Who would not with pleasure the moments prolong.
When tempted with Friendship, Love, Wine, and a
Song.

What art thou, kind power, that soft'nest me so,
That kindlest this love-boding sigh,
'that bid'st with affection, mv bosom o'erflow,
And send'st the fond tear to my eye.

I know thee ! for ever thy visit prolong,

Sweet spirit of Friendship. Love, Wine, and a Song.

See the joy-waking influence rapidly fly,
And spirit with spirit entwine,
The effulgence of rapture enamels each eye,
Each soul rides triumphant like mine.

On a sea of good humour floats gayly along,
Surrounded with Friendship, Love, Wine, and a
Song.

And now to the regions of Fancy we soar,
Thro' scenes of enchantment we stray,
We revel in transports untasted before,
Or loiter with love on the way.

Resolv'd like good fellows the time to prolong,
That cheers us with Friendship, Love, Wine, and
Song.

For Friendship, the solace of mortals below,
In the thicket of life, loves a rose,
Good wine can content on misfortune bestow,
And a song's not amiss I suppose.

Then fill, my good fellows, the moment prolong,
With a bumper to Friendship, Love, Wine, and
Song.

A FLIGHT OF FANCY.

For lonely shades, and rustic bed,

Let philosophic spirits sigh ;
I ask no melancholy shed,

No hermit's dreary cave, not L

But where, to skirt some pleasant vale,
Ascends the rude uncultur'd hill,

Where 'midst its cliffs to every gale,
Young echo mocks the passing rill :

Where spring thro' every merry year,
Delighted trips her earliest round ;

Sees all her varied tints appear,
And all her fragrant soul abound.

There let my little villa rise,

In beauty's simple plumage drest,

And greet with songs the morning skies,
Sweet bird of art, in nature's nest !

Descending there, on golden wing,
Shall fancy, with her bounties roam ;

And every laurell'd art shall bring
An offering fair to deck my home.

Green beds of moss, in dusky cells,

When twilight sleeps from year to year.

And fringed plats, where Flora dwells,
With the wild wood shall neighbour near.

The fairies thro' my walks shall roam,
And sylphs inhabit every tree;

Come Ariel, subtlest spirit, come,
I'll find a blossom there for thee.

Extended wide, the diverse scene.
My happy casement shall command,

The busy farm, the pasture green,

And tufts where shelter'd hamlets stand.

Some dingle oft shall court my eye
To dance among the flow'rets there,

And here a lucid lake shall lie,
Eniboss'd with many an islet fair.

From crag to crag, with devious sweep,
Some frantic flood shall headlong go,

And, bursting o'er the dizzy steep,
Shall slumber in the lake below.

In breezy isles and forests near,

The sylvaus oft their haunts shall leave,

And oft the torrent pause to hear,
The lake-nymph's song, at silent eve.

There shall the moon with half-shut eye,
Delirious, hear her vocal beam,

To fingering sounds, responsive sigh,
And bless the hermit's midnight dream.

No magic weed nor poison fell,

Shall tremble there ; nor drug uncouth.

To round the mutt' ring wizard's spell,
Or bathe with death the serpent's tooth.

No crusted ditch nor festering fen,

With plagues shall teem, a deadly brood

No monster leave his nightly den
To lap the 'wilder'd pilgrim's blood.

WILLIAM RAY; JOSIAH QUINCY.

609

But on the rose's dewy brink,

Each prismy tear shall catch the gleam,

And give the infant buds to drink,
The colours of the morning beam.

The waters sweet, from whispering wells,
Shall loiter 'neath the flowery brake;

Shall visit oft the Naiads' cells,
And hie them to the silver lake.

The muse shall hail, at peep of dawn,

Melodiously, the coming day ;
At eve her song shall soothe the lawn,

And with the mountain echoes play.

There spring shall laugh at winter's frown,
There summer blush for gamesome spring,

And autumn, prauk'd in wheaten crown,
His stores to hungry winter bring.

Tis mine ! 'tis mine ! this sacred grove,
Where truth and beauty may recline,

The sweet resort of many a love ;
Monimia come and make it thine.

For thee, the bursting buds are ripe,
The whistling robin calls thee here,

To thee complains the woodland pipe ;
Will not my lov'd Monimia hear ?

A fawn I'll bring thee, gentle maid,
To gamble round thy pleasant door ;

I'll cull thee wreaths that ne'er shall fade,
What shall 1 say to tempt thee more ?

The blush that warms thy maiden cheek,
Thy morning eye's sequester'd tear,

For me, thy kindling passion speak,
And chain this subtle vision here.

Spots of delight, and many a day
Of summer love for me shall shine ;

In truth my beating heart is gay,
At sight of that fond smile of thine.

Come, come my love away with me,
The morn of life is hast'ning by,

To this dear scene we'll gaily flee,
And sport us 'neath the peaceful sky.

And when that awful day shall rise,

That sees thy cheek with age grow pale,

And the soul fading in thine eyes,

We'll sigh and quit the weeping vale.

WILLIAM EAT.

William Rat, one of the "Algerine Captives,"
was born in Salisbury, Connecticut, about 1772.
His father was a fanner in moderate circum-
stances, and removing soon after his son's birth to
a then unsettled part of the state of New York,
the latter had few advantages of early education.
After experimenting as a schoolmaster and coun-
try shopkeeper, and getting married, having lost,
by arriving too late at Philadelphia, what lie calls
"a flattering prospect of finding a situation as an
editor, at thirty dollars a month," he shipped, July
3, 1803, "in a low capacity" on board the U. S.
frigate Philadelphia, Captain Bainbridge. On
the 31st of October the vessel ran aground off
Tripoli, was attacked by a single gun-boat, and
struck her colors. The next morning the ship
was afloat, but her officers and crew were ashore
as prisoners. They were treated with great se-
verity, badly fed and lodged, and set to work in
December at raising an old wreck buried in the
sand, which they had to shovel from under her
and carry in baskets to the shore, working almost
naked with the water up to their armpits. They
vol. i. — 39

had afterwards, in March, to drag a heavy wagon
" five or six miles into the country over the burn-
ing sands, barefoot and shirtless, and back again
loaded with timber, before they had anything to
eat, except perhaps a few raw carrots." They
were imprisoned until June 3, 1805, when articles
of peace were signed and the prisoners shipped
for home the next day. Ray was made captain's
clerk of the Essex, and laureate for the next fourth
of July, when the following song by him "was
sung at table by consul Lear, and encored three
or four times."

Hail Independence ! hail once morel
To meet thee on a foreign shore,

Our hearts and souls rejoice ;
To see thy sons assembled here,
Thy name is rendered doubly dear —

More charming is thy voice.

A host of heroes bright with fame,
A Preble and Decatur's name,

Our grateful songs demand;
And let our voices loudly rise,
At Eaton's daring enterprise,

And red victorious hand.

That recreant horde of barb'rous foe.!,
Our deathless heroes bled t' oppose,

Can never stand the test,
When grappled with our dauntless tars.
Their crescent wanes beside our stars,

And quickly sinks to reft.

Thy spirit, born in darkest times,
Illumes the world's remotest climes,

Where'er thy champions tread

Like lightning flash'd on Barb'ry's plains —
Dissolv'd the groaning captive's chains,

And struck the oppressor dead.

Hail Independence ! glorious day,
Which chased the clouds of night away.

That o'er our country hung ;
Re-tune the voice, and let us hear
The song encore — a louder cheer

Resound from every tongue.

Huzza! may freedom's banners wave,
Those banners that have freed the slave

With new all-conqu'ring charms;
Till nature's works in death shall rest
And never may the Tar be press' d

But in his fair ones arms.

The Essex, after a cruise in the Mediterranean,
reached home August, 1806. Her poet published
an account of his adventures a few months after.
He served in the militia at Plattsburg in 1812,
and after several removes settled down with his
family in the village of Onondaga Court-House.
In 1821 he published at Auburn a small volume
of " Poems on various subjects, religious, moral,
sentimental, and humorous," with a sketch of his
life.

JOSIAH QUINCY.
The will of Josiah Quincy, Jr., contained the fol-
lowing bequest: "I give to my son, when he
shall arrive to the age of fifteen years, Algernon
Sidney's works, John Locke's works, Lord Bacon's
works, Gordon's Tacitus, and Cato's Letters.
May the spirit of liberty rest upon him!" The
son has entered upon the full fruition and has
made good use of this legacy. His long life has
been devoted to the dissemination of knowledge,

610

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

to the instruction of others in the good doctrines
those pood hooks have taught, while the " spirit of
liberty" now rests like a sunset halo on that aged
head. "Whenever we read of an assemblage in
his native city, convened by the rallying call of
liberty, we find a portion of its record earnest
words, which he has come forth from his retire-
ment to utter. Even those who differ from him
widely in opinion, as in domicile, must, or should,
respect the energy and good intent of the old
statesman and scholar.

Z7ZUZ/LJL

C>i--4st<f11

'1*0

Josiah Quincy was born in 1772, prepared for
college at the Phillips Academy in Andover, and
graduated at Harvard in 1790. His Commence-
ment oration was on the " Ideal Superiority of the
present age in Literature and Politics." He studied
law with the Hon. Judge Tudor, and in 1797
married Eliza, daughter of John Morton, a mer-
chant of New York. In 1804 he was elected to
the State Senate, and in 1805 to Congress, where
he remained until 1813. He was warmly opposed
to the purchase of Louisiana, and prophesied • a
dissolution of the Union as the result of an en-
largement of the Confederacy beyond its limits at
the time of the formation of the Constitution,
ne was also an opponent of the Embargo. One
of his speeches on this topic contains an eloquent
though somewhat ornate passage.

They who introduced it abjured it. They who
advocated it did not wish, and scarcely knew, its
use. And now that it is said to be extended over us,
r.o man in this nation, who values his reputation,
will take his Bible oath that it is in effectual and
legal operation. There is an old riddle, on a coffin,
(said Mr. Quincy,) which I presume we all learnt
when we were boys, that is as perfect a representa-
tion of the origin, progress, and present state of this
thing called non-intercourse, as is possible to be
conceived:

There was a man bespoke a thine-.
Which, when the maker home did bring,
That same maker did refuse it, —
The man that spoke for it did not use it, —
And he who had it did not know
Whether he had it, yea or DO.

True it is, that if this non-intercourse shall ever be,
in reality, subtended over us, the similitude will fail,
in a material point. The poor tenant of the coffin
is ignorant of his state. But the poor people of the
United States will be literally buried alive in non-
intercourse, and realize the grave closing on them-
selves and their hopes, with a full and cruel con-
sciousness of all the horrors of their condition.

His speech on the influence of government pa-
tronage, delivered January 1, 1811, attracted
much attention. "It ought," said John Quincy
Adams, " to be hung up in every office of every
office-holder in the Union." He describes the
office hunters.

Let now, one of your great office-holders — a col-
lector of the customs, a marshal, a commissioner of
loans, a post-master in one of your cities, or any of-
ficer, agent, or factor, for your territories, or public

lanc|s, or person holding a place of minor distinction,
but of considerable profit — be called upon to pay the
last great debt of nature, 'the \ oor man shall hardly
, be dead, — he shall not be cold, — long before the
corpse is in the coffin, the mail shall be crowded to
! repletion with letters, certificates, recommendations,
and representations, and every species of sturdy,
sycophantic solicitation, by which obtrusive men-
dicity seeks charity or invites compassion: Why,
sir, we hear the clamor of the craving animals at the
treasury -trough here in this capitol. Such running,
such jostling, such wriggling, such clambering over
I one another's backs, such squealing because the tub
I is so narrow and the company so crowded! No, sir;
\ let us not talk of stoical apathy towards the things
; of the national treasury either in this people, or in
the representatives, or senators.

****■**•*.»#

Without meaning, in this place, to cast any par-
ticular reflections upon this, or upon any other
executive, this I will say, that if r.o additional
guards are provided, and now, after the spirit of
party has brought into so full activity the spirit of
; patronage, there never will be a president of these
United states, elected by means now in use, who, if
he deals honestly with himself, will not be able, on
quitting, to address his presidential chair as John
Falstaff addressed Prince Hal: "Before I knew thee
I knew nothii g, and now I am but little better than
one of the wicked." The possession of that station,
| under the reign of party, will make a man so ac-
quainte 1 with the corrupt principles of human con-
duct,— he will behold our nature in s'o hu: gry, and
| shiverii g, and craving a state, and be compelled so
i constantly to observe the solid rewards daily de-
| manded by way of compensation for outrageous pa-
triotism,— that, if he escape out of that atmosphere
without partaking of its corruption, he must be below
or above the ordinary condition of mortal nature.
Is it possible, sir, that he should remain altogether
uninfected ?

Mr. Quincy was an opponent of the war of
1812, and soon after his election to the Senate of
his state, June, 1813, gave a decided proof of his
opposition by offering the following preamble and
resolution in reference to the gallant conduct of
Captain Lawrence in the destruction of the Bri-
tish ship of war Peacock by the sloop Hornet.

Whereas, It has been found that former resolu-
tions of this kind, passed on similar occasions, relative
to other officers engaged in similar service, have
given great discontent to manvT of the good people
of this commonwealth, it beii g considered by them
I as an encouragement and excitement to the eounte-
; nance of the present unjust, unnecessary, and ini-
i quitous war; and, on this account, the Senate of
i Massachusetts have deemed it their duty to refrain
| from acting on the said proposition. And whereas,
] this detetunnation of the Senate may, without ex-
planation, be misconstrued into an intentional slight
of Capt. Lawrence, and a denial of his particular
merits, the Senate therefore deem it their duty to
declare that they have a high sense of the naval skill
and military and civil virtues of Capt. James Law-
rence; and they have been withheld from acting on
said pi-oposition solely from considerations relative
to the nature and principle of the present war : and,
to the end that all misapprehension on this subject
may be obviated, Resolved, as the sense of the Senate
of Massachusetts, that, in a war like the present,
waged without justifiable cause, and prosecuted in a
manner which indicates that conquest and ambition
are its real motives, it is not becoming a moral and
religious people to express any approbation of mili-

JOHN LATHEOP.

611

tary or naval exploits which are not immediately
connected with the defence of our sea-coast and soil.

Both were afterwards, January 23, 1824, by a
vote of the body expunged from its records.

Mr. Qui i icy remained in the Senate until 1821,
and in 1822-3 was a member of the House. In
1822 he was appointed Judge of the Municipal
Court, but resigned the office on his election as
Mayor of Boston in 1823. He held the office
until he declined a re-election in December, 1828.
The House of Industry, the House for the Refor-
mation of Juvenile Offenders, the admirable mar-
ket-house which bears his name, the efficient Fire
Department of the city, and numerous important
streets and avenues, are some of the monuments
o' his vigorous administration. He was to be
seen throughout his mayoralty traversing the
streets and lanes at daybreak on horseback, per-
sonally inspecting their condition, and in every
ot'ier department of duty was equally active.

In January, 182!), Mr. Quincy, to use his own
expression, was called from the "dust and clamor
of the capitol" to the presidency of Harvard Uni-
versity. He was as much surprised at the a] >point-
meiit, he said, "as if he had received a call to the
pastoral charge of the Old South Church." He
delivered his inaugural address in Latin on the
second of June, and retained the office until his
resignation in 1845, his academic rule being
marked by the same zeal and prosperity which
had attended his civic sway. During its course
debts were paid, endowments secured, buildings
renovated, and the general, efficiency of the an-
cient institution largely promoted.

Since his retirement from Harvard Mr. Quincy
lias not held any public office. He is often, how-
ever, called upon to preside at assemblages of his
fellow-citizens, and is always ready to lend the
great influence which a long life of honorable
public service has added to the ancestral honors
of his name in the furtherance of measures which
lie deems of national benefit. He is often present
on occasions of public festivity, enjoying a well
deserved reputation as an after dinner speaker and
wit. One of bis happy epigrams is recorded in
the diary of the Rev. Joseph S. Buckminster.

President Nott preached in Brattle Street Church ;
the fullest audience ever known Iherc, except on or-
dination-day. Epigram made on by Josiali Quincy.

Delight and instruction have people, I wot,
"Who iu seeing nut see, and iu hearing hear not.

At a dinner given soon after the completion of
the Quincy market, Judge Story gave the toast,
"May the fame of our honored Mayor prove as
durable as the material of which the beautiful
market-house is constructed." Quincy instantly
responded, "That stupendous monument of the
wisdom of our forefathers, the Supreme Court of
the United States; In the event of a vacancy may
it be raised one Story higher." The same distin-
guished name was used iu a still happier maimer
at a Phi Beta Kappa dinner, after the institution
of the Story Association, when Mr. Quincy pro-
posed "The Members of the Bar; Let them rise
as high as they may they can never rise higher
than one Story." He once remarked of his college,
"May it, like the royal mail packets, distribute
good letters over our laud."

When Wirt visited Boston in 1829 he was re-
ceived by Quincy, who, in the course of conver-
sation, asked him in which college he had gradu-
ated. Wirt in a letter at the time tells the
sequel. " I was obliged to admit that I had never
been a student of any college. A shade of em-
barrassment, scarcely perceptible, just flitted across
his countenance ; but he recovered in an instant,
and added most gracefully, ' upon my word you
furnish a very strong argument against the utility
of a college education.' Was not this neatly said,
and very much in the style of Bishop Madison?"*

Mr. Quincy, in addition to bis other public ser-
vices, is the author of several important volumes.
His Memoir of Jo.-iah Quincy, Jr., published in
1825, we have already had occasion to express our
obligations to in writing an account of that dis-
tinguished patriot. It is an admirable monument
of filial reverence. His History of Harvard^
has rendered a similar service to our article on
that University. His Centennial Address on the
Two Hundredth Anniversary of the Settlement
of Boston, 1830, and History of the Boston Athe-
■na'urn, with Biographical Notites of its devoted
Founders.X are equally valuable contributions to
civic and literary history .§

JOHN LATHEOP,
Trra son of a minister at Boston, of the same
name, || was born in that city in January, 1772 ;
was a graduate of Harvard in 1783 ; studied law
iu the office of Christopher Gore ; commenced
the practice of the profession, and in 1797 re-
moved to Dedhain. The society of Fisher Ames
and the appointment of clerk of Norfolk county
did not long retain him there. He returned to
Boston, and lived among the wits, Robert Treat
Paine, Jr., Charles Prentiss,1T and others, con-

* Kennedy's Memoirs of Wirt, ii. 275.

t Cambridge, 1841).

t Cambridge, 1SB1.

§ Loring's Hundred TSoston Orators, pp. 25S-278.
I John Lathrnp, 174.'-1816, was born in Norwich, Ct;
studied at Princeton ; assisted Wheelock in his Indian school,
at Lebanon; was ordained and became pastor of the Second
Church in Boston. He published a number of ordination aud
occasional discourses, amongst others an Historical Discourse
at the commencement of the Nineteenth Century, which aro
enumerated bv Allen. .Joseph Lathrop, another divine of the
family, 1781-1821, was also born at Norwich ; studied at Taio,
anil was pastor of the church in West Springfield, Mass. His
ministerial life extended over sixty-three years. His pub-
lished sermons form a large collection, a portion of which were
issued in seven volumes; one of them, a posthumous publi-
cation, containing his Autobiography, "a production," says
Allen, " remarkable for its simplicity and candor.'1

^ Buckingham, in his Newspaper Reminiscences, has traced
the career of Prentiss through a series of journals with which
he was conmc cd. lie was born in 1774, the son of the P.ev.
Caleb Prentiss, minister of Beading, Mass.; studied at Har-
vard, and upon leaving college, edited, in 1795, the Rural Re-
pository, at Leominster, Mass.. a weekly paper of a literary
character, and "short lived." One of his sportive effusions iu
tins journal was a ''will" in verse, written in emulation of a
similar college production of the wit Biglow. The humor
turns upon ii custom of Harvard, of the transmission of a jack-
knife from the uttliest member of one senior class to the ugli-
est member of tiie next. The verses may be found in Buck-
ingham, ii. 209. A Collection of Fugitive Essays, in. Prose
and Verse, was published bv Prentiss at Leominster, in 1797
—a pleasant volume. Whe'n the Repository expired. Prentiss
published The Political Fa.:u>i at the same, place; afterwards,
The Washington Federalist, at Georgetown, D.C. ; the Anti-
Democrat at' Baltimore, and in the same city a literary paper,
The Child of Pallas. This was at the beginning of the cen-
tury. In 1S04 he visited England. In 1809 he published Tits
Thistle, a theatrical paper of a brief existence. After 1810 he re-
ported the Congressional proceedings at Washington, and edited
the Independent American. In 1818, a Life or General Eaton
from his pen was published at Brooktield. In 1817 and 1818 he
edited the Virginia Patriot, at Richmond. He died in Brim-

612

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

tributing, with them, to the Federal Boston Ga-
zette. Samuel L. Knapp, who was subsequently
connected with that journal, and who has fur-
nished a genial account of Lathrop, says, that a
difference of taste led to an encounter between
■ the young authors : — " Lathrop was modest,
learned, and poetical, but had much less of the
ardor of genius and the sparkling of wit than
Paine, but more chastity of style and more me-
thod in his compositions and conversations. Pren-
tiss was easy, familiar, good-natured, and poeti-
cal, and amused himself at the parade of learn-
ing in Paine, and laughed at the sentimental so-
lemnity of Lathrop." Such contests might en-
liven the Boston newspapers, but they would not
assist to wealth and eminence at the bar. Dis-
couraged in this field, Lathrop, in 1799, embarked
to try his fortunes in British India, where he
established a school at Calcutta. Knapp relates
a proposition which he made to the government
there, and its reception. " In the ardor of his
zeal for instructing the rising generation of Cal-
cutta, he presented to the Governor-General, the
Marquis of Wellesley, a plan of an institution at
which the youths of India might receive an edu-
cation, without going to England for that pur-
pose. In an interview with his lordship, Lathrop
urged, with great fervency and eloquence, the
advantages that he believed would flow from a
seminary well endowed and properly patronized
by the government, on such a plan as he recom-
mended ; but his lordship opposed the plan, and
in his decided and vehement manner replied : ' No,
no, sir, India is and ever ought to be a colonj* of
Great Britain'; the seeds of independence must
not be sown here. Establishing a seminary in
New England at so early a period of time has-
tened your revolution half a century.' " Besides
his occupations as a teacher, Lathrop wrote for
the Calcutta papers the Hircnrrah and the Post,
but he found the newspaper system under the
government censorship as restricted as the edu-
cational.

He returned to America in 1819, projected
" a literary journal on an extensive plan," but did
not carry it into execution. He then brought his
stock of literary resources into use as teacher of
a school in Boston ;" " wrote in the papers ; deli-
vered lectures on natural philosophy, and gave the
public several songs and orations for festive and
masonic purposes." Tired of this unsatisfactory
career he passed to the South, where he took up
his residence in the District of Columbia, pursuing
his old occupations as a teacher, writer, and lec-
turer, and securing an employment in the post-
office. He died at Georgetown. January SO,
1820.

The writings of Lathrop have never been col-
lected. They consist of his philosophical lectures,
several orations, a number of occasional poems,
and one of greater scope, which he wrote on the
voyage to India, and which was first published at
Calcutta in 1802, and reprinted in Boston the

field, in Hampden County, Mass., Oct. 20, 1820. Buckingham
adds to these items the remark — " Mr. Prentiss was a scholar,
a good, writer, a judicious critic; he studied no profession, and
relied entirely on the exercise of his pen for support. Had he
lived half a century later, he might have seen his literary off-
spring dressed in scarlet and gold, and died, leaviDg his copy-
right to his heirs."

following year. This was entitled the Speech of
Caunonieus, or an Indian Tradition* It is de-
dicated " to his Excellency the most noble Rich-
ard, Marquis Wellesley, K.P." The author fur-
nishes the " argument " of the poem. " Caunoni-
eus, Sachem of the Narraghansetts, having reached
his eighty-fourth year at a time a little anterior
to the landing of the Pilgrims, and finding his
infirmities duly increasing, assembled his people
round the council fire, and previous to the act of
resigning his authority to his nephew, delivered
an address, in which he informed them of their
nature, origin, and approaching fate." The hero
is introduced with dignity, amidst the council of
chiefs, at the senate lire.

At length — serene, Caunonieus arose,
The patriot Sachem of the rude domain.

He recounts the blessings of his reign : —
If aught my years have added to your store,
Of martial prowess or of useful lore,

********
If mine has been a mild, propitious sway,
And light your task to follow and obey,
Return to God your thanks ! My time is past ;—
I sink before the cold and wintry blast.

********
To fertile realms I haste,
Compared with which your gardens are a waste:
There, in full bloom eternal Spring abides,
And swarming fishes glide through azure tides.

The origin of " the Pagan Pantheon " is thus
disclosed, how a spirit was placed in the sun and
another in the sea, and in the fire, with a succes-
sion of river gods, when beasts and fishes were
formed, and the gigantic mammoth, with whom
the primeval deity has a struggle.

Creation groan'd when with laborious birth,
Mammoth was born to rule his parent earth, —
Mammoth ! I tremble while my voice recounts,
His size that tower' d o'er all our misty mounts, —
His weight a balance for yon pine-crowned hills,
On whose broad front half heaven in dew distils ; —
His motions forced the starry spheres to shake,
The sea to roar — the solid land to quake.
His breath a whirlwind. From his angry eye,
Flash'd flames like fires that light the northern sky;
The noblest river scarce supplied him drink, —
Nor food, the herds that giazed along its brink ; —
Trampling through forests would the monster pass,
Breasting the stoutest oaks like blades of grass !

Creation finished, God a Sabbath kept,
And twice two hundred moons profoundly slept;
At length from calm and undisturbed repose,
With kind intent the sire of nature rose ; —
Northward he bent his course, with parent care,
To view his creatures and his love declare,
To bless the works his wisdom erst had plann'd,
And with fresh bounties fill the grateful land.
Hoar Paumpagussit swell'd with conscious pride,
And bore the Almighty o'er each looming tide ;
Sweet flowering bushes sprang where'er he trod,
And groves, and vales, and mountains, hail'd their
' God ;

* The Speech of Caunonieus, or an Indian Tradition: a
Poem, with explanatory notes.

Hi ceptis
Adspirate meis ; primaqne ah origine mnndi
Ad mea perpetuum deducite tempora carmen. — Ovtd.

By John Lathrop, A.M. Calcutta: Printed by Thomas Hol-
lingbery, Hircarrah Press. 1802. 4to. pp. 42.

JOHN LATHROP.

613

With more effulgent beams Keesuekquand shone,
And lent to night a splendor like his own.
Thus moved the deity. But vengeful wrath,
Soon gather'd awful glooms around his path,
Approaching near to Mammoth's wide domain,
He view'd the ravage of the tyrant's reign.
Not the gaunt wolf, nor cougar fierce and wild,
Escaped the tusks that all the fields despoil'd ,
No beast that ranged the valley, plain or wood,
Was spared by earth's fell chief and his insatiate
brood.

Nor did just anger rest. Behold, a storm
Of sable horrors clothe the eternal's form.
Loud thunders burst while forked lightnings dart,
And each red bolt transfix'd a Mammoth's heart,
Tall cedars crash'd beneath them falling prone,
And heaven rebellow'd with their dying groan.
So, undermined by inward fires, or time.
Some craggy mount that long has tower'd sublime,
Tumbles in ruins with tremendous sound.
And spreads a horrible destruction round ;
The trembling land through all its caverns roars,
And ocean hoarsely draws his billows from the
shores.

Mammoth, meanwhile, opposed his maily hide,
And shagged front, that thunderbolts defied ;
Celestial arms from his rough head he shook,
And trampling with his hoofs, the blunted weapons
broke.

At length, one shaft discharged with happier aim,
Pierced his huge side and wrapp'd his bulk in

flame.
Mad with the anguish of the burning wound,
With furious speed he raged along the ground,
And pass'd Ohio's billows with a bound, —
Thence, o'er Wabasli and Illinois he flew, —
Deep to their beds the river gods withdrew
Affrighted nature trembled as he fled,
And God alone, continued free from dread.
Mammoth in terrors — awfully sublime,
Like sonic vast comet, blazing from our clime,
Impetuous rush'd. O'er Allegany's brow
He leap'd, and howling plung'd to wilds below ;
There, in immortal anguish he remains,
No peace he knows ; — no balm can ease his pains ;
And oft his voice appals the chieftain's breast,
Like hollow thunders murmuring from the west, —
To every Sachem dreadful truths reveals,
And monarchs shudder at its solemn peals.
Such is the punishment, by righteous fate,
The dread avenger of each injured state,
Reserved for tyrant chiefs, who madly dare
Oppress the tribes committed to their care.
Almighty wrath pursues them for their deeds, —
They stab their souls in every wretch that bleeds,
The hideous wound eternal shall endure, —
Remorse, despair, — alas, what skill can cure !
****** **

Mammoth being thus overpowered, man and
woman are then brought on the scene :

There God retired, elate, from Mammoth's death,

Form'd man of oak, and quickened him with breath,

Moulding the wood according to his will,

Nine moons his plastic hands employed their skill.

Life's vital fount within the breast he plac'd,

And Reason's seat the brain's nice fabric grae'd,

Superior wisdom beaming from his face,

Proclaim'd the lord of earth and all its race.

Erect and tall the new Commander strode,

In shape and motion noble as a god.

His eye the spirit intellectual fir'd,

His ample heart no vulgar joys desir'd,

For there, though chief, unrivall'd and alone,

Had emulation fix'd her blazing throne.

Next to complete th' Eternal's glorious plan,
Sweet woman rose, the sole compeer of man,
Her voice was soft as Philomela's note,
When Evening's shades o'er flowery vallies float ;
Her lips breath'd fragrance, like the breeze of morn,
And her eyes sparkled as the spangled thorn,
Ere glist'ning dews, by heat exhaled away,
Yield their mild splendors to intenser day : —
And silken skin adoru'd her waving form,
Whose glossing texture touch'd, — so smooth, so

warm,
Through the thrill'd breast diffused a rapt'rous

glow,
And bade the blood with amorous phrenzy flow.
She, like the skies, which gazing tribes adore,
Two beauteous orbs upon her bosom bore,
Whose charms united, bless'd continual view,
While heaven's lights singly deck'd the expansive

blue,
Giving all seasons of man's life to prove,
The bliss of constant and unfading love ;
Perfect she shone, the fairest and the best —
Of all God's works the paragon contest.
This pair, the parents of our race design'd,
The solemn rite6 of holy wedlock joined ;
From their embraces, sprang forth at a birth,
Of different sex, two more to people earth,
Thence, still proceeding, num'rous children smil'd,
And gladden'd with their sports the shady wild.
Till Paugautemisk held paternal reign,
O'er the throng'd forest and the busy plain.

An Indian legend of Oswego follows, and the
poem closes with a prophecy of the coming
Empire.

Lathrop's several addresses and orations were :
on the Fourth of July, 1796, for the town author-
ities of Boston; on the same anniversary, in 1798,
at Dedham ; a Masonic Address at Charlestown,
Mass., June 24, 1811; an Address before the
Associated Instructors of Youth, in Boston and
vicinity, on the First Anniversary of the Institu-
tion, August 19, 1813 ; Monody Sacred to the
Memory of John L. Abbot, who died Oct. 17,
1814. He also published the Pocket Register
and Free Mason's Anthology, in 1813.* Of his
occasional verses, Knapp quotes the following

ODE FOR THE TWENTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF THE MASSA-
CHUSETTS CHARITABLE EIRE SOCIETY.

If on the haughty warrior's brow,

Is plac'd the crown of deathless fame ;
And earth's applauding lords bestow,

Their proudest titles on his name ;
Oh say, shall glory's partial hand,

Withhold the meed to pity due,
When plaintive sorrow's grateful band

For wreaths to deck their patrons sue.

A tear-enamelled chaplet weave,

Round Bowdoin's venerated urn,
Where all the patriot virtues grieve,

And votive lamps of science burn ;
Sweet charity on Russell's tomb,

A shower of vernal ilow'rets throws ; —
And bays of fadeless verdure bloom

O'er classic Minot's calm repose.

New England's worthies grace the pyre,
Where Belknap soar'd for ever blest I

Religion lights her hallow'd fire,
Where pious Stillman's relics rest, —

* Knapp's American Bintrraphy. LoriDg's Boston Orators,
pp. 255-7. Alloa's Biog. Diet.

614

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

Why mourns the Muse with tearful eyes,
While pondering o'er the roll of death !

Afresh her keenest sorrows rise,
With Emerson's departed breath !

All ! Heaven again demands its own,

Another fatrd shaft is sped,
And genius, friendship, learning, mourn

Their Buekminstcr among the dead !
To Eliot's tomb, ye Muses, bring

Fresh roses from the bieathi, g wild,
Wet with the tears of dewy Spring,

For lie was virtue's gentlest ehiid !

Ye sainted spirits of the just.

Departed friends, we raise our eyes,
From humbler scenes of mould'ring dust,

To brighter mansions in the skies. —
Where faith and hope, their trials past,

Shall smile in endless joy secure,
And charity's blest reign shall last,

While Heaven's eternal courts endure.

AECniBALD ALEXAXDEE.
This head of a family eminent for its theological
services in the professor's chair and the pulpit,
was born in Rockbridge county, Virginia, April
17, 1772. His grandfather, an emigrant from
Ireland of the Scottish race, was one of tin* first
settlers in that region, about the year 1 738 — a man
of courage and mental activity, who raised a com-
pany of men for military duty on the Kenhawa,
and gave lessons to the young of his neighborhood
at home. His son William was a trader and farm-
er. The early years of Archibald Alexander were
passed in country associations with such educa-
tion as the time and place offered — asan instance
of which, we may note that the future eminent
divine was taught by a convict from London, who
had been bought by his father at Baltimore, and
turned to account in this way, as he had some
Latin and Greek education, in a log school-house
set up for that purpose. The name of this youth
was Reardon. lie enlisted in the war, and was
cut down in a skirmish in North Carolina by
Tarleton's men, and left for dead upon the field,
lie survived, however, to get back to his school-
keeping.

The instructions of the Rev. William Graham
and of his assistant, James Priestly, in the school
near Lexington — names to be held in respect in the
early annals of American education — shaped the
studies of Alexander. He had hardly, at the age of
seventeen, completed them, when his father pro-
cured him an engagement as a tutor in the family
of General John Posey, of the Wilderness, a hun-
dred and forty miles from his home, across the
Blue Ridge in Spotsylvania county, where he pars-
ed a year instructing the sons and a daughter in
Latin, and educating himself. On his return home,
he was influenced by the religious movements then
taking place in the country, to think seriously of
divinity — a study which he prosecuted witli Ids
preceptor Graham, reading the works of Edwards
and Owen. He was licensed in 17'Jl at Winches-
ter, after which he made a missionary tour
through the southern counties of the state ; his
memoranda of which; published in his life by his
son, are interesting contributions to the history of
the times. In one of Ids journeys in 1794, he
heard Patrick Henry on a jury murder case, and
his testimony of his eloquence is an addition to

the many warm and seemingly extravagant eulo-
logies collected by Wirt. In 1707, Alexander
was called to the presidency of Hampden Sidney
College, an institution established as a Presbyte-
rian theological seminary, which had received its
charter as a college in 1783. Samuel Stanhope
Smith was its first president. Alexander occupied
this office till 1801, when he visited New York
and New England. His reminiscences of the jour-
ney and of the chief clergymen of the day possess
distinctness and spirit. He was at Dartmouth
College when Daniel Web>ter pronounced his
Commencementspeech. On his arrival at Boston,
the geographer Morse was mystified by his intro-
duction as president of " Camden" Sidney College,
lie had never heard of the institution, and when
the error was corrected it was hardly more com-
plimentary, for Morse had given a melancholy ac-
count in his book of the veritable Hampden Sid-
ney it- elf. Alexander met on this tour such
celebrities as Samuel Hopkins, Emmons, Pre ident
Wheelock,and the magnates of UnrvardandPrince-
ton, under the presidencies of Willard and Smith.
On his return to Virginia in 1802, he married
Janetta Waddell, (he dmght^r of the eloquent
blind preacher, celebrated by Wirt in the British
Spy — a lady whose affections he had engaged on
a casual visit to her father in Louisa county, on
his horseback journey from the college the pre-
vious year. This union, a very happy one, la-ted
during his life, his widow surviving him a short
time. In 1807, he took charge of a congregation
in Philadelphia, where he remained till the or-
ganization of the Theological Seminary at Prince-
ton by the General Assembly of the Presbyterian
church in 1812, when he became its first professor,
with charge of the various branches of theologi-
cal education, a range of duty which finally settled
down, as the demands and resources of the institu-
tion increased, and he was relieved by the labors
of others into a distinct professorship of pastoral
and polemic theology. Be was at tins time forty
years old, and held this position till his death,
almost as long a period after, in his seventy-ninth
year — an event which occurred at Princeton, Oc-
tober 22, 1851.

The reputation of Dr. Alexander fur learning
and authorship dates from his residence at Prince-
ton. Be was a thorough and accomplished stu-
dent, a critic and interpreter of the Greek and
Hebrew scriptures ; in the latter of which he was
one of the earliest American proficients. Through
his later years he would read a chapter of the
Old Testament daily in the original, for which he
had a reverential regard, and could be heard at
times chanting to himself portions of the Hebrew
psalter. He held the German and Dutch Pro-
testant divines of the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries, in great estimation ; and brought a largo
Collection of them together to the library of the
seminary.

Be did not begin to publish, if we except seve-
ral occasional sermons, till Ins fifty-second year,
when his Brief Outline of the Evidences of ', the
Christian Religion appeared, a work which is
held in regard as a text-book in botli England and
America. Bis contributions to the Biblical Re-
pertory and Princeton Review were thereafter
frequent in articles in wiiieh he guarded and de-
fined the principles of morals and theology. His

ARCHIBALD ALEXANDER.

G15

edd&tmtfai

Introductory Lectures on the opening of the terms
of study, seventeen in number, which are still in
manuscript, embrace many points of practical and
speculative divinity — what may be called the
moral philosophy of Divinity. One of these dis-
course-: had for its subject, The Use and Abuse of
Books. In 1816, he published in a large octavo
volume, a History of Colonization on the West-
ern. Coast of Africa. His History of the Israel-
itish Nation, from their origin to their dispersion
at the destruction of Jerusalem hy the Romans,
appeared in Philadelphia in 1832. He also wrote
many tracts and several biographical abridg-
ments for the Presbyterian Board of Publication
and the American Tract Society.

As a preacher, Dr. Alexander was greatly
admired. His discourses were "experimental,
casuistical, practical, consolatory," and are noticed
as having but little of the mannerisms and phrases
of any particular school. His conversational pow-
ers were very happy, and were freely exercised
among his family and friends. His habits as a
student kept him much among his books, so that
for a great portion of his life his only exercise
was in passing the few steps from his library to
his lecture-room. He would get relief from one
grave study in another as grave of a different turn.
His personal appearance, in a piercing eye, a high
forehead and delicate features, with a transparent
complexion, was expressive of the refined and
penetrating mind within.

Of the sons of Dr. Alexander, his biographer,
. Dr. James W. Alexander, the pastor of the Presby-
terian Church on the Fifth Avenue,is the author of
several works of value and intere-t. One of the ear-
liest of these is a collection of essays, entitled the
American Mechanic and Workingman, of a prac-
tical ingenious turn, in which, with good humorand
good sense, the moral and intellectual capabilities
of the calling are insisted upon and enlarged. He
has published also a volume of sermons, entitled

Consolation; in Discourses on Select Topics, ad-
dressed to the suffering people of God ; Thoughts
on Family Worship, and Plain Words to a Young
Communicant. His love of literature, and activity
as a thinker and student, have been shown in
numerous contributions to the Biblical Reper-
tory, in various brief essays which have ap-
peared in the Newark Daily Advertiser and The
Literary World, under the title of Gesariensis,
As a scholar, he is one of the most exact and
finished men of the day.

The " Biblical Repertory and Princeton Re-
vie w,"such being its final title, is the ol, lest of exist-
ing American theological quarterlies, having now
reached its thirty-first volume. It was begun by
Professor Hodge in 1825, and has, with small in-
tervals, remained under bis able hand till the pre-
sent time. It lias been regarded as the accredited
organ of the Westminster Oalvinists and Presby-
terians, and has exercised a formidable influence;
but its tone in regard to Slavery has made it espe-
cially unsavory to the abolitionists. In the " Bri-
tish Foreign Theological Review," of Edinburgh,
for 1 So 1-2, more than a dozen of the articles re-
published are from the Princeton Review. For
many years together it was the vehicle for the
most elaborate dissertations of Miller, Brecken-
ridge, Dod, Hodge, the Alexanders, and other
well known Presbyterians.

The Rev. Albert B. Dod, D.D., was one of the
most brilliant writers for this work, though he
did not live to accomplish that authorship for
which be was so well prepared. He was for some
years professor of Mathematics in Princeton Col-
lege, where he shared the intimacy and the fame
of such men as Henry, now of the Smithsonian In-
stitution, andTorrey, the great botanist of America.
Dod was a man of letters as well as science, a keen
metaphysician, pious divine, an eloquent preacher,
a captivating converser. and a writer of equal argu-
mentative and sarcastic power. He died unex-
pectedly in the spring-tide of a great reputation,
in the year 184(5. Some of Dr. Dod's admirable
productions have been collected in a volume enti-
tled "Princeton Essays."

Professor Joseph A. Alexander, of the Theologi-
cal Seminary at Princeton, is the author of a valua-
ble Commentary on the Psalms, following the cx-
positionofHangstenberg ;* a Critical Commentary
on the Prophecies of Isaiah ; and an abridgment of
the same, with a volume on Primitive Church Go-
vernment.

NATUT.AL SCENERY SEEN BY TUB YOUTFI AND TIIE MAN.

Whether the scenery with which our senses are
conversant in early life 1ms any considerable effect
o:i the character of the mind, is a question not easily
determined. It would be easy to theorize on the
subject; ami formerly I indulged in many lucubra
tions, which at the time seemed plausible, all tend
ing to the conclusion that minds developed under the
constant view and impression of grand or pictur-
esque scenery must in vigour and fertility of imagi-
nation be greatly superior to those who spend their
youth in dark alleys, or in the crowded streets of a
large city, where the only objects which constantly
meet the senses are stone and brick walls, and dirty
and offensive gutters. The child of the mountains,

* The Psalms. Translated and Explained by J. A. AleAan-
der, DD. 3 vols. Scribner, 1350-51.

616

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

who cannot open his eyes without seeing sublime
peaks, penetrating beyond the clouds, stupendous
rocks, and deep and dark caverns, enclosed by fright-
ful precipices, thought I, must possess a vivid im-
pression of the scenes of nature, by which he will be
distinguished from those born and brought up in the
city, or in the dull, monotonous plain, where there
is neither grandeur nor variety. Perhaps there might
be a little vanity mingled with these speculations, as
it was my lot to draw the first breath of life at the
foot of a lofty mountain, and on the bank of a roar-
ing mountain torrent ; where the startling reveille
was often the hideous howling of hungry wolves.
But when I attempted to recollect whether I had, in
the days of childhood, ever experienced any sensible
impression from the grandeur of surrounding objects,
or had ever been led to contemplate these objects of
nature with any strong emotion, I could not satisfy
myself that any thing of this sort had ever occurred.
The only reminiscence was of impressions made by
the novelty of some object, not before seen ; or some
fancied resemblance to something with which I was
. familiar. Two mountains, somewhat remarkable,
were frequently surveyed by me with delight ; the
House Mountain, and the Jump Mountain ; both ap-
pertaining to a ridge, called in the valley the North
Mountain. The first of these is a beautiful mountain
which stands out at some distance from the main
ridge, and from the middle of the valley exhibits
something of the shape and appearance of a house.
From Lexington and its vicinity, the view of this
mountain is pleasant and imposing. The idea of its
resemblance to a house took strong hold of my ima-
gination ; and especially because at the western end
there was the resemblance of a shed, which corres-
ponded with such an appendage to the house in
which my childhood was spent. And now, when I
revisit the place of my nativity, whilst almost every
thing else is changed, the House Mountain remains
the same, and I gaze upon it with that peculiar emo-
tion which attends the calling up in a lively manner
the thoughts and impressions of infancy. The idea
of a perfect resemblance to a house was so deeply
imprinted on my mind, in relation to this mountain,
that I was greatly discomposed and disturbed in my
thoughts, when a boy, by having occasion to travel
a few miles towards the east end of the mountain,
and finding that every resemblance of a house was
gone ; and when instead of one beautiful, uniform
mountain, as smooth and steep as the roof of a house,
I now beheld two rough-looking spurs, separated at
a considerable distance from each other. This obli-
teration of a pleasing idea from the mind was pain-
ful; and whenever I was in a situation to see the
mountain under this aspect, the unpleasant impres-
sion was renewed. Every traveller among moun-
tains must have noticed how remarkably they vary
their appearances, as he changes his position; and
not only so, but from the same site a prominent
mountain exhibits a wonderful variety of aspects ac-
cording to the state of the atmosphere. This I be-
lieve is what is called looming, and was much noticed
by Mr. Jefferson from Montieello, particularly in re-
lation to that remarkable isolated mountain, called
Willis's, which elevates its head to a considerable
height, at a great distance from any other mountain
or hill.

But to return to my favourite, the House Moun-
tain. In the days of my childhood — and perhaps it
is still the case — this mountain was commonly burnt
over every year; that is, the dry leaves on the
ground were burnt. When the fire extended in a
long crooked string along the side of the mountain,
and especially when near the top, the appearance
was grand and beautiful in a very dark night. It

had all the appearance of a zigzag fire in the sky ;
and whenever it occurred, greatly attracted and de-
lighted the boys. It was in those days held as a
maxim among boys, that no one ever had ascended,
or could ascend to the ridge or summit of the House
Mountain ; but since that time I understand that not
only men, but women, have been successful in reach-
ing the top ; and have thence surveyed the varied
and delightful landscape of the valley, with its vil-
lages, and its farms, its rivers and smaller streams.
I can scarcely conceive of a pleasanter prospect than
that which might be enjoyed from the summit of the
House Mountain.

As to the Jump Mountain, it was only occasionally
that I got a view of it; and although the descent is
very abrupt on the north side, so that the top of the
mountain actually seems to project, my mind would
have received a slighter impression from it, had not
the first view of it been associated with a story told
me by an older boy, that the reason why it was call-
ed the Jump Mountain, was because, at a certain
time, a man had actually jumped off the top of the
mountain, and fallen dead at its foot. This made a
deep impression on my mind, and although I have
seen the mountain hundreds of times since, I believe
I never saw it without thinking of the man who took
such an awful leap. When that species of taste is
developed which delight:- in landscapes, I have not
been able, with any precision, to ascertain. As far
as my own experience goes, or rather as far as me-
mory furnishes me with facts,. I think that while a
boy at school, I had no consciousness of the exercise
of any such faculty. The love of novelty is almost
coeval with our existence ; but the love of the beau-
ties of nature is slow in its development, and when
there is no culture, it is often scarcely observable in
mature age. Some men cast their eye over a lovely
landscape with as little emotion as is experienced by
the horses on which they ride. The only thought
perhaps is, how rich the land? how many barrels of
corn, or hogsheads of tobacco, or bushels of wheat,
might be raised here to the acre ? And even the
horse will experience an emotion as elevated as his
rider's, if there Bhould happen to be a good clover
field in sight. As it relates to objects of sublimity,
I have found it, except in a few cases, difficult to dis-
tinguish this emotion from mere wonder, or admira-
tion. But in this same valley, and not very remote
from the objects of which I have spoken, there is one
which, I think, produces the feeling which is deno-
minated the sublime, more definitely and sensibly
than any that I have ever seen. I refer to the Na-
tural Bridge, from which the county takes its name.
It is not my object to describe this extraordinary
lusus naturw, as it may be ealled. In fact, no re-
presentation which can be given by the pen or pen-
cil can convey any adequate idea of the object, or
one that will have the least tendency to produce the
emotion excited by a view of the object itself. There
are some things, then, which the traveller, however
eloquent, cannot communicate to his readers. All I
intend is, to mention the effect produced by a sight
of the Natural Bridge on my own mind. When a
boy of fourteen or fifteen, I first visited this curiosi-
ty. Having stood on the top, and looked down into
the deep chasm above and below the bridge, without
any new or very strong emotions, as the scene bore
a resemblance to many which are common to tha^
country, I descended by the usual circuitous path to
the bottom, and came upon the stream or brook some
distance below the bridge. The first view which I
obtained of the beautiful and elevated blue limestone
arch, springing up to the cloudB, produced an emotion
entirely new ; the feeling was as though something
within sprung up to a great height by a kindof sudden

WILLIAM WIRT.

617

impulse. That was the animal sensation which ac-
companied the genuine emotion of the sublime.
Many years afterwards, I again visited the bridge.
I entertained the belief, that I had preserved in my
mind, all along, the idea of the object, ; and that now
I should see it without emotion. But the fact was
not so. The view, at this time, produced a revival
of the original emotion, with the conscious feeling
that the idea of the object had faded away, and be-
come both obscure and diminutive, but was now re-
stored, in an instant, to its original vividness and
magnitude. The emotion produced by any object of
true sublimity, as it is very vivid, so it is very short
in its continuance. It seems, then, that novelty must
be added to other qualities in the object, to produce
this emotion distinctly. A person living near the
bridge, who should see it every day, might be pleased
with the object, but would experience, after awhile,
nothing of the vivid emotion of the sublime. Thus,
I think, it must be accounted for, that the starry
heavens, or the sun shining in his strength, are view-
ed with little emotion of this kind, although mucli
the sublimeit objects in our view ; we have been ac-
customed to view them daily, from our infancy. But
a bright coloured rainbow, spanning a large arch in
the heavens, strikes all classes of persons with a min-
gled emotion of the sublime and beautiful ; to which
a sufficient degree of novelty is added, to render the
impression vivid, as often as it occurs. I have re-
flected on the reason why the Natural Bridge pro-
duces the emotion of the sublime, so well defined
and so vivid ; but I have arrived at nothing satisfac-
tory. It must be resolved into an ultimate law of
our nature, that a novel object of that elevation and
form will produce such an effect. Any attempt at
analysing objects of beauty and sublimity only tends
to produce confusion in our ideas. To artists, such
analysis may be useful ; not to increase the emotion,
but to enable them to imitate more effectually the
objects of nature by which it is produced. Although
I have conversed with many thousands who had seen
the Natural Bridge ; and although the liveliness of
the emotion is very different in different persons ;
yet I never saw one, of any class, who did not view
the object with considerable emotion. And none
have ever expressed disappointment from having had
their expectations raised too high, by the description
previously received. Indeed, no previous descrip-
tion communicates any just conception of the object
as it appears ; and the attempts to represent it by
the pencil, as far as I have seen them, are pitiful.
Painters would show their wisdom by omitting to
represent some of the objects of nature, such as a
volcano in actual ebullition, the sea in a storm, the
conflagration of a great city, or the scene of a bat-
tle-field. The imitation must be 90 faint and feeble,
that the attempt, however Bkilfully executed, is apt
to produce disgust, instead of admiration."

WILLIAM WIHT.

William Wirt, the eloquent lawyer and amiable
biographer of Patrick Henry, was born at Bla-
deusburg in Maryland, November 8, 1772, in the
first descent from a European parentage — his
father being a native of Switzerland and his
mother of Germany. His father was an inn-
keeper of the place. He died shortly after his
son's birth, and the mother did not long survive.
At eight years of age, William was an orphan
under the care of his uncle. His education was
well provided for at the school of James Hunt, in
Montgomery county, a Presbyterian clergyman,
in whose house his pupil resided, and where a well

stored library was kindly seconded in its influ-
ences by the frank maimers and instructions of
its owner. To this library Wirt owed the germ
of that love of reading which bore luxuriant fruit
in his later writings. Josephus, Guy of Warwick,
Peregrine Pickle, Pope, and Home's Elements of
Criticism, were the mixed company of these early
literary acquaintances. When he became an adept
in the rigorous studies of the law, Wirt looked
back with dismay upon this miscellaneous reading
as injurious to the training of his faculties ;
though, as his biographer Kennedy wisely sug-
gests, probably without cause. If gonitis is some-
times oppressed by the abundance of material, it
may be as often at a loss for its own proper nutri-
ment, which a wider field would have afforded.
At fifteen, Wirt had qualified himself to become
a private tutor in the family of his schoolmate,
Ninian Edwards, who, on his return home, had
sounded the praises of his companion to his
father. This gentleman, Benjamin Edwards, was
a man of character, education, and political posi-
tion, whose society and personal encouragement
led his young friend onward in his course to the
bar, which he finally reached — after preliminary
studies with two practitioners, one of whom was
the son of his old teacher Hunt — in 1792, his
twentieth year. The library with which he com-
menced practice consisted of "a copy of Black-
stone, two volumes of Don Quixote, and a volume
of Tristram Shandy." Three years after, he mar-
ried the daughter of a gentleman of distinction in
Albemarle, Virginia— Doctor George Gilmer, a
physician, residing at Pen Park, near Charlottes-
ville, at whose well furnished house, rich in books
and society, Wirt, again fortunate in home asso-
ciations, took up his residence. His happy career
at this place, in which he participated freely in the
hearty life of old Virginia, was terminated by the
death of his wife in 1799, when he removed to
Richmond. He entered upon public life as Clerk
to the House of Delegates, and passed rapidly
through various stages of legal success, discharg-
ing for a while the duties of Chancellor of the
eastern shore of Virginia, and after his second
marriage, in 1802, with the daughter of Colonel
Robert Gamble, practising law during a residence
at Norfolk, and subsequently establishing himself
in Richmond, till in 1817, in the Presidency of
Monroe, he became Attorney-General of the
United States, an office which he filled for twelve
years. His practice in the Supreme Court gained
him great reputation, where he frequently met
his legal antagonist Pinkney. His speech in the
prosecution of Burr at Richmond, in 1807, in
which he sketched in glowing colors the home of
Blennerhasset on the Ohio, will always be asso-
ciated with' that beautiful locality. It has been
a popular recitation with schoolboys as one of
the " beauties" of American eloquence.

On his retirement from the Attorney-General-
ship in 1829, Wirt left Washington and took up
his permanent residence at Baltimore, where he
became actively engaged for the few remaining
years of his life in the practice of the law.

Wirt died at Washington, whither he had gone
in attendance on the Supreme Court, of an at-
tack of erysipelas, February 18, 1834. His health,
which had been for some time enfeebled, suddenly
gave way. It is cheerful to see, in his corres-

618

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

pondence, how his constitutional vivacity and
hearty .sensibility kept him company to the last.
The acuteness of mind and feeling' which gave
poignancy to his sufferings in the loss of his
famih — ion and two daughters — and the decline
of health, enabled him also at times to rise supe-
rior to these woes, and from the moments of hap-
piness to extract a keener and purer enjoyment
than is known to those who get through life with
fewer pains and duller pleasures. The southern
temperament lives in Wirt's writings; luxuriant,
prodigal, self-reproachful for its uncertain pursuit
of advantages, imperfect because its own standard
is high — but colored with a warm flush of feeling.
Of these literary productions, the earliest was
his Letters of the British Spy, published in the
autumn of 1803 in the Argus, a daily newspaper,
at Richmond. They were ten in number, written
under the mask of papers left by a travelling
member of the British Parliament in the bed-
chamber of his inn, at a seaport town of Vir-
ginia, and their purpose was simply literary
recreation. There are some local descriptions and
some scientific speculation in the manner of Jef-
Jerson's Notes on Virginia, but the papers are
mainly occupied with the writer's studies of elo-
quence and observation of the leading public
speakers of the country. The sketch of the ser-
mon in the woods by the blind preacher, James
Waddell, has entered into the common currency
of American literature. The book was very suc-
cessful on its publication, deriving its interest
from its notices of individuals in a classical form.
It passed through a number of editions.*

* The tenth was published by Harper & Brothers in 1K4F,
with, a Biographical Sketch of the Author, by his friend Peter
Hoffman Cruse, of Baltimore. An English copy before us,
published in London in 1S12, has a preface which shows the
general estimation in which American literature was held at
that recent period, in the Great Metropolis. It says: "The
people of the United States of America have so very small a
claim on the world for any particular mark of distinction for
honours gained in the field of literature, that it is feared the

In 1804, "Wirt further gave vent to his literary
inclinations by the publication of some essays in
the Richmond Enquirer, with the title of The
Rainbow, which were afterwards collected into a
volume. His Old Bachelor, commenced in 1810,
was an undertaking ot a similar character, a series
of essays on the model of the Spectator, which
ran through thirty-three numbers of the same
journal. The friends who contributed to this
joint affair, which sustained something < f a dra-
matic character, were Dabney Carr, whose letter
from Squaretoes was much admired in the Vir-
ginia circle; Dr. Frank Carr, the Galen ; Richard
E. Parker, the Alfred ; Dr. Girardin, the Mel-
moth, of the plan, with other contributions by
Judge Tucker, David Watson, and Mr. George
Tucker. The papers were published in two
volumes in 1812, and were favorably received,
reaching a third edition in 1818. In the scarcity
of American productions at that day, a work of
this character was set in bolder relief than it
would be at present.

The topics discussed are the old grievances of
the contemptuous reports of English travellers
in the country, and the unjust criticism thereupon
in the foreign reviews ; female character and edu-
cation, with pleasant glimpses of the old Bache-
lor's niece, Rosalie ; sketches of the manners and
thoughts of Virginia, and, above all, a discussion
of the line arts, their means of development and
influences, particular))- in relation to oratory —
always a favorite topic with Wirt — of the bar, the
senate, or the pulpit.

The Sketches of the Life and Character of
Patrick Henry, the most important in its sub-
ject and interest of Wirt's literary productions,
had been commenced in 1804, under the stimulus
of the praise awarded to the author's personal
sketches in the British Spy. The difficulties of
the undertaking, in the first place, to get the
material, and in the next to master it in a sober,
historical style, are pleasantly recounted by him
in a letter to Judge Carr in 1815, when the work
was nearly completed.* From hearing so much
of the speeches of Henry, and finding so few of
them recorded, he thought at one time of writing
them out from invention, in the style of Iiottaand
the ancient historians. As it was his work did
not pass without a jest from his friend Jefferson,
who contributed to it.

The life of Henry appeared at last in 1817. It
took at once its position as one of the most ani-
mated biographical works in our history, though
the warmth of its coloring has been objected
to, not without some reason, by the critics.
The sober narrative of the historian sometimes
breaks into the canter of the jury-addressing
lawyer or the stump-speaking politician. There
is an appearance of eking out the somewhat
scanty material by rhetorical effect. It is not

present demand on the "English reader may be considered more
as a call on British courtesy and beuevolenee than one of right
and equity. In whatever point of view this may appear, the
Header may rely, that the publishers have been induced, from
a conviction of the merit of the work, to furnish an impression
of the British Spy. They have been enabled to do this by the
recent arrival of a gentleman from Baltimore, who brought
with him a copy of ihe work, with the assurance, that no ori-
ginal American literary production had ever obtained so rapid
and extensive a circulation : it having, in a very short space of
time, passed through four editions." *

* Memoir by Kennedy, i. 357-90.

WILLIAM WIRT.

619

likely, however, that the latter has injured its
popular reception. The work glows with the
southern heart of the writer, and in spite of all
defects continues to charm the reader; It has
dramatic power, witli insight into character; and
has certainly done much to stamp the permanent
impression on the popular heart and mind of its
illustrious subject. Fortunately for the writer's
own memory, Ins biography has found a congenial
pen in the ample narrative and affectionate zeal
of his friend Kennedy.

In 1826, on the nineteenth of October, the
anniversary of the surrender at York and of the
birthday of Adams, ho delivered in the Hall of
Representatives, in the capitol, his Eulogy on
Adams and Jefferson, which was characterized by
his usual fervor.

In 1830, Wirt delivered an admirable address
before the literary Societies of Rutgers College,
in which he exhibited, with eloquence and feel-
ing, the final absolute condition of education being
a work of self-culture, and urged upon his young
hearers the necessity of a zealous labor, a purpose
and disposition in harmony with the country,
decision of character, and a manly, high-toned
ambition.

In the same year he pronounced a discourse at
Baltimore, on the 28th October, on occasion of a
public celebration of the French Revolution of
that date.

At one time Wir' — is what American author
has not? — neditated a production in the drama, a
sentimental comedy, which lie had promised to
the daughter of the actor Greene, a young lady
who perished at the burning of the Richmond
Theatre in 1811. The play was written, and is
still in manuscript, entitled The Path of Pleasure
In doubt whether he should publish it or not, the
author onnsultad his friends. A letter of Judge
Tucker in reply is preserved.

It would lie doing injustice to Wirt's literary
activity to pass over the extensive series of
letters preserved in the Memoirs of Kennedy.
He wai a diligent and painstaking correspondent;
his letters containing passages of description, cri-
ticism, humor, and sentiment equal to the best in
his writings. They are written to members of
his family, his wife, his daughters, and his old
friends, Francis W. Gilmer, Dabney Can*, William
Pope, and his law student S. Teackle Wallis, to
whom he addressed an admirable letter on read-
ing and habits of study.*

Wirt was deeply affected by the death of his
daughter Agnes, at the age of sixteen, in 1831,
ami gave expression to Ids feelings in a memoir
of her, of which Mr. Kennedy, bis biographer,
gives this most tenderly touched passage : —
" Young as she was, she seemed to he the seal
and connecting bond of the whole family. Iler
voice, her smile, her animated graceful move-
ments, her countless little acts and expressions of
kindness and of love, those ' small sweet cour-
tesies of life,' which she was so' continually ren-
dering to all around her, and with such exquisite
grace of manner, had made her neee sary to the
individual happiness of every member of the
household. When she was lost to us, it was as

* It is printed in Kennedy's Memoirs, ii. O.

if the keystone of the arch had been removed.
There was a healthfulness in the glow of her
fresh and young affections, which animated the
rigid nerves of age, and a pleasantness and beauty
in the play of her innocent thoughts and feelings,
which could smoothe the brow ot care, and light
up a sniiie even in the face of sorrow. To meshe
was not oulj' the companion of my studies, but
the sweetener of my toils. The painter, it is said,
relieved his aching eyes by looking on a curtain
of green. My mind, in its hour of deepest fatigue,
required no other refreshment than one glance at
my beloved child as she sat beside me." Mr.
Kenned}- compares this expression of feeling with
a similar tribute on a like occasion in John
Evelyn's Diary.

In his personal qualities Wirt was most happily
constituted of a warm genial temperament, sus-
ceptible alike to humor and sentiment, of strong
devotional feeling, devoted to his friends and
family, anil with the orator's gifts for the public,
of a manly countenance, a fine musical voice, and
a graceful gesture. He was a good classical
scholar, well versed in English literature, a hearty
reader. At the bar, his eminent professional
reputation is preserved with the annals of our
highest courts, and in some of their most impor-
tant causes.

JAMES WADDELL, THE DLIND PTTBACHEB — FROM THE BRITISH
SPY.

Richmond, Oct. 10.

I have been, my dear P , on an excursion

through the countries which lie along the eastern
side of the Blue Ridge. A general description of
that country and its inhabitants may form the sub-
ject of a future letter. For the present, I must
entertain you with an aceou .t of a most singular
and interesting adventure, which I met with, i.i the
course of the tour.

It was one Sunday, as I travelled through the
county of Orange, that my eye was caught by a
cluster of horses tied near a ruinous, oil, wooden
house, in the forest, not far from the road side.
Having frequently seen such objects before, in
travelling through these states, I had no difficulty
in understanding that this was a place of religious
worship.

Devotion alone should have stopped me, to join in
the duties of the congregation ; but I must confess,
that curiosity, to hear the preacher of such a wilder-
ness, was not the least of my motives. On entering,
I was struck with his preternatural appearance, ho
was a tall and very spare old man ; his head, which
was covered with a white linen cap, his shrivelled
hands, and his voice, we e all shaking under the in-
fluence of a palsy ; and a few moments ascertained
to me that he was perfectly blind.

The first emotions which touched my breast, were
those of mi gled pity and veneration. Rut ah!
sacred God! how soon were all my feelings changed!
The lips of Plato were never more worthy of a
prognostic swarm of bees, than were the lips of this
holy man ! It was a day of the administration of
the sacrament; and his subject, of course, was the

passion or our Saviour.

I had heard the s.b'ect

handled a thousand times: I had thought it ex-
hausted long ago. Little did I suppose, that i:i the
wild woods of America, I was to meet with a man
whose eloquence woul 1 give to this topic a new and
more sublime pathos, than I had ever before wit-
nessed.
As ho descended from the pulpit, to distribute tb"

620

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

mystic symbols, there was a peculiar, a more than
human solemnity in his air and manner which made
my blood run cold, and my whole frame shiver.

He then drew a picture of the sufferings of our
Saviour ; his trial before Pilate ; his ascent up Cal-
vary ; his crucifixion, and Ins death. I knew the
whole history ; but never, until then, had I heard
the circumstances so selected, so arranged, so co-
loured ! It was all new : and I seemed to have
heard it for the first time in my life. His enuncia-
tion was so deliberate, that his voice trembled on
every syllable ; and every heart in the assembly
trembled in unison. His peculiar phrases had that
force of description that the original scene appeared
to be, at that moment, acting before our eyes. We
saw the very faces of the Jews : the staring, fright-
ful distortions of malice and rage. ' We saw the
buffet ; my soul kindled with a flame of indignation ;
and my hands were involuntarily and convulsively
clinched.

But when he came to touch on the patience, the
forgiving meekness of our Saviour ; when he drew,
to the life, his blessed eyes streaming in tears to
heaven ; his voice breathing to Ood, a soft and
gentle prayer of pardon on his enemies, " Father,
forgive them, for they know not what they do" —
the voice of the preacher, which had all along fal-
tered, grew fainter and fainter, until his utterance
being entirely obstructed by the force of his feel-
ings, he raised his handkerchief to his eyes, and
burst into a loud and irrepressible flood of grief.
The effect is inconceivable. The whole house re-
sounded with the mingled groans, and sobs, and
shrieks of the congregation.

It was some time before the tumult had sub-
sided, so far as to permit him to proceed. Indeed,
judging by the usual, but fallacious standard of my
own weakness, I began to be very uneasy for the
situation of the preacher. For I could not conceive,
how he would be able to let his audience down
from the height to which he had wound them,
without impairing the solemnity and dignity of his
subject, or perhaps shocking them by the abrupt-
ness of the fall. But — no ; the descent was as beau-
tiful and sublime, as the elevation had been rapid
and enthusiastic.

The first sentence, with which he broke the awful
silence, was a quotation from Rousseau, " Socrates
died like a philosopher, but Jesus Christ, like a
God 1"

I despair of giving you any idea of the effect pro-
duced by this short sentence, unless you could per-
fectly conceive the whole manner of the man, as
well as the peculiar crisis in the discourse. Never
before did I completely understand what Demos-
thenes meant by laying such stress on delivery.
You are to bring before you the venerable figure of
the preacher ; his blindness, constantly recalling to
your recollection old Homer, Ossian and Milton,
and associating with his performance, the melan-
choly grandeur of their geniuses ; you are to ima-
gine that you hear his slow, solemn, well-accented
enunciation, and his voice of affecting, trembling
melody ; you are to remember the pitch of passion
and enthusiasm to which the congregation were
raised ; and then, the few minutes of portentous,
death-like silence which reigned throughout the
house ; the preacher removing his white handker-
chief from his aged face, (even yet wet from the
recent torrent of his tears,) and slowly stretching
forth the palsied hand which holds it, begins the
sentence, " Socrates died like a philosopher" — then
pausing, raising his other hand, pressing .them both
clasped together, with warmth and energy to his
breast, lifting his " sightlesB balls" to heaven, and

pouring his whole soul into his tremulous voice —
" but Jesus Christ — like a God I" If he had been
indeed and in truth an angel of light, the effect
could scarcely have been more divine.

Whatever I had been able to conceive of the sub-
limity of Massillon, or the force of Bourdaloue, had
fallen far short of the power which I felt from the
delivery of this simple sentence. The blood, which
just before had rushed in a hurricane upon my
brain, and, in the violence and agony of my feel-
ings, had held my whole system in suspense, now
ran back into my heart, with a sensation which I
cannot describe — a kind of shuddering delicious
horror! The paroxysm of blended pity and indig-
nation, to which I had been transported, subsided
into the deepest self-abasement, humility and adora-
tion. I had just been lacerated and dissolved by
sympathy, for our Saviour as a fellow creature ; but
now, with fear and trembling, I adored him as — " a
God !" _

If this description give you the impression, that
this incomparable minister had anything of shallow,
theatrical trick in his manner, it does him great in-
justice. I have never seen, in any other orator,
such a union of simplicity and majesty. He has not
a gesture, an attitude or an accent, to which he does
not seem forced, by the sentiment which he is ex-
pressing. His mind is too serious, too earnest, too
solicitous, and, at the same time, too dignified, to
stoop to artifice. Although as far removed from
ostentation as a man can be, yet it is clear from the
train, the' style and substance of his thoughts, that
he is not only a very polite scholar, but a man of
extensive and profound erudition. I was forcibly
struck with a short, yet beautiful character which
he drew of our learned and amiable countryman, Sir
Robert Boyle : he spoke of him, as if " his noble
mind had, even before death, divested herself of all
influence from his frail tabernacle of flesh ;" and
called him, in his peculiarly emphatic and impres-
sive manner, " a pure intelligence : the link between
men and angels."

This man has been before my imagination almost
ever since. A thousand times, as 1 rode along, I
dropped the reins of my bridle, stretched forth my
hand, and tried to imitate his quotation from Rous-
seau ; a thousand times 1 abandoned the attempt in
despair, and felt persuaded that his peculiar manner
and power arose from an energy of soul, which
nature could give, but which no human being could
justly copy. In short, he seems to be altogether a
being of a former age, or of a totally different nature
from the rest of men. As I recall, at this moment,
several of his awfully striking attitudes, the chilling
tide, with which my blood begins to pour along my
arteries, reminds me of the emotions produced by
the first sight of Gray's introductory picture of his
bard:

On a Tock, whose haughty brow,

FrownB o'er old Conway's foaming flood,
Eobed in the sable garb of wo,

With haggard eyes the poet stood ;
(Loose his beard and hoary hair

Streamed, like a meteor, to the troubled air :)
And witli a poet's hand and prophet's fire,

Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.

Guess my surprise, when, on my arrival at Rich-
mond, and mentioning the name of this man, I found
not one person who had ever before heard of James
Waddell it Is it not strange, that such a genius as
this, so accomplished a scholar, so divine an orator,
should be permitted to languish and die in obscurity,
within eighty miles of the metropo is of Yirginia ?
To me it is a conclusive argument, either that the
Virginians have no taste for the highest strains of
the most sublime oratory, or that they are destitute

WILLIAM WIKT.

621

of a much more important quality, the love of
genuine and exalted religion.

ELOQUENCE OP THE PULPIT — FROM TITE OLD BACHELOR.

I cannot present to my readers any instance of a
happy manner, which is so extensively and tami-
liarly known as that of Mr. Cooper, the tragedian.
Many of us had read tlie dagger scene in Macbeth,
a hundred times, before we saw that inimitable
actor, and had supposed that we had perceived all
the beauty and felt all the force of the passage.
But, as for myself, when I came to see Mr. Cooper
in that scene, all that I had perceived and felt be-
fore, became, in the comparison, so tame and insipid,
that I seemed, nay I did, for the first time, under-
stand the image which was in Shakespeare's mind.
The horror-struck attitude and countenance — the
deep, low, agitated whisper — " Is that a dagger that
I see before me!" — the desperate convulsive attempt
to clutch it — the increased amazement and frenzied
consternation at the failure — his eyes starting wild
with horror from their orbits, and slowly following
the motion of the. visionary dagger to the door of
Duncan's chamber — " thou marshal'st me the way
that I was going" — -altogether had such an effect on
me, that when I got relief by the momentary disap-
pearance of the dagger, I found that I had been be-
reaved of my breath — my sinews and my muscles
had been strained to a painful extremity — and I felt
my hair descending and setting on my head, for
it had been raised by sympathetic horror — And,
what is still more wonderful, when I supposed his
power of action exhausted on this scene, yet when
the dagger re-appears at the door of Duncan's cham-
ber,

And on its blaoV and dudsreon gouts of blood
Which was not so before —

it was clear that the performer's resources of action
were as infinite and inexhaustible as the wonderful
genius whose effusions he was painting to the eye
and to the heart. His attitude ! His look ! That
whisper ! Tenfold horrors surrounded him ! ! It
was the most blood-chilling, the most petrifying
spectacle I ever beheld ! I am persuaded that hu-
man nature could not have endured the agonizing
stretch of the nerves to which this master of his art
was able to wind his audience ! And all this, be it
remembered, was the work of manner.

I shall be asked whether I propose the manner of
the theatre as a model of our public speakers ? I
answer, not the vicious manner of the theatre — -not
the overloaded, extravagant, most unnatural gesticu-
lation which we see practised on the stage. But let
it be remembered, that this mode of action is im-
proper and disgusting even on the stage itself.
Shakespeare has given the true rule of action, which
is universal in its application — ■" Suit the action to
the word, the word to the action ; with this special
observance, that you overstep not the modesty of
nature." Now, is it not obvious that the manner
which would be chaste and natural on the stage,
would, in the expression of the same sentiment, be
equally chaste and natural everywhere? The rea-
son why there is more gesture on the stage than
elsewhere, is because plays consist almost entirely
of emotion ; in the pulpit, senate, and bar, argu-
ment does or should preponderate. Now, no man,
in his senses, would be so absurd as to apply the
gesture which belongs to emotion, to the delivery of
an argument ; for that would not be to " suit the action
to the word, the word to the action" — -hence the
quantity of action exhibited on the stage will always
naturally and properly exceed that which belongs to
ony other theatre of public speaking. But the sub-

jects sometimes coincide — arguments are found in
plays — and the passions often appear, and properly
too, in the pulpit, senate, and bar — and whereon the
subjects do coincide, the manner should be the same.
Hence it is that the manner of action on the stage,
as exhibited by master performers, may be observed
and imitated to great advantage. Ministers of the
gospel may, perhaps, be startled at a proposition so
profane as that they should attend the theatre ; and
disgusted at an idea so absurd as that they should
transfer the manner of the theatre to the pulpit.
As to the profanity of the proposition, their acced-
ing to it or not is a question between themselves
and their sovereign judge ; I am not afraid of the
consequences of having made the proposition. I
know that dramatic composition has been polluted
by the most shameful licentiousness — on the exhibi-
tion of plays of that character, I, who am no divine,
would never attend. But are there not, on the
other hand, plays which inculcate the loftiest, the
most heroic, the most Christian virtues ? What sin
would be committed by their attending the repre-
sentation of such ? What is the. purpose of play-
ing? Let Shakespeare answer the question —
" whose end both at the first and now, was and is,
to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature ; to
show virtue her own feature ; scorn her own image,
and the very age and body of the time, his form and
pressure." * I ask if the same be not also a part of
the duty of the pulpit ; and when the dramatic
writer attains this purpose purely, I cannot discern
what possible mischief there can be in listening to
his lectures. Do not those who from an idea of its
sinfulness refuse to attend the theatre, nevertheless
read, and with rapture too, the plays of Shake-
speare? If they do, where is the difference in point
of guilt between reading the plays one's self, and
hearing them read or recited by others ? It is from
my purpose to pursue this disquisition further. As
to the other branch of the supposed objection, trans-
ferring the manner of the theatre to the pulpit, I
will take the liberty to say that the transfer of all
that is chaste and natural would give to the pulpit,
an ease, a dignity, an animation, and an interest of
which at present it stands in the most direful need.
Who is not disgusted with the stiffness, the for-
mality, the slow, mechanically measured enunci-
ation, the nasal melody, the affected mouthings or
the coarse rusticity, the ear-crucifying sing-song,
and the delirious raving and shrieking, which too
often degrade the pulpit and defeat the very pur-
pose of tlie institution ? Has it never been the mis-
fortune of the reader to observe in what an infinite
variety of ways ministers contrive to murder that
beautiful and sublime exclamation of the Psalmist —
" Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of Sabaoth ! Heaven
and Karth are full of the majesty of thy glory 1"
One will recite it in the same time and tone that he
would read an advertisement in a newspaper; ano-
ther will whine over it, so as to excite just as much
interest as a schoolboy excites in whining over his
lesson ; another, with a smirk, will yelp over it,
" holy — holy — holy," as if he had just started the
game, to the great amusement of his congregation,
who feel no other impulse than to cry " hark for-
ward." I have no patience with men who thus in-
dolently and shamefully neglect the cultivation of a
correct manner, and ascend the pulpit only to mar,
deform, by their hideous manner, the work of in-
spiration— How different from all this was the man-
ner of the celebrated Duche, the chaplain of the old
Congress! He had studied the language of nature
j in the cartoons of Raphael, and learned from them
that the evangelic character loses nothing of its
dignity by the boldest attitude and most impressive

622

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

east of features, when they comport with the subject
and the occasion. He had read the sacred scrip-
tures, too, with the eye of genius, as well as that of
faith ; and in the exclamation just referred to, it was
.impossible for him not to imagine the train of re-
flection which probably led to it, and the holy yet
enraptured manner in which it broke from the in-
spired poet. To recite this language of the psalmist
correctly, it was necessary to recite it in the very
6pirit in which it was first conceived ; and in doing
so, there was no danger that a man of taste and
judgment would overstep the modesty of nature.
There are probably some yet alive, beside myself,
who will remember Ditches mode of reciting it.
It was preceded by a pause in which his eyes were
raised with fearful awe, as if contemplating those
glories of the firmament which David has so sub-
limely depicted in the 19th psalm — his hands were
clasped on the pulpit before him — the admiration
depicted on his countenance, gradually swelled with
the truth of nature into a bolder expression, as the
wonders of the creation seemed to pass in review
before him, at the same time his clasped hands were
slowly and touchingly removed from the pulpit to
his breast — his heart, itself, seemed to expand with
the augmenting tide of his sensations — no sound was
heard, but that of the throbbing heart and convulsed
breath — the recitation was begun slowly — and in a
low and tremulous voice, as if repressed by the
awfid presence of the Deity, himself, " Holy ! Holy !
Holy! Lord God of Sabaoth!" then his hands un-
clasped, his arms a little opened, and raised

"Heaven!" then his arms wide extended,, his

face beaming with a smile of rapturous gratitude
and admiration, and his brilliant voice liberated, and
swelling to the end of the sentence, in its fullest
richest tone — " and earth are full of the majesty
of thy glory." There was no one who did not
clearly perceive and deeply feel the whole beauty
of the apostrophe : There were few who did not in-
voluntarily start from their scats, with sympathetic
rapture. Yet among the drones of the present day,
this manner would be called theatrical, unworthy
of the pulpit, unworthy of imitation. It is the
common policy of dunces to decry that excellence
which they cannot reach. But it is not for the
mind, however good, to pass sentence oa appeals
made to the heart. Those arc the best judges of
Mr. Dvehc's manner, who had the happiness to hear
him; and they will support me in the assertion,
that his manner, so far from lowering the dignity
and solemnity of the service, gave them a hundred
fold force and power. I will venture to say that if
Mr. Ditches were the manner of the present day,
our country would not, in every quarter of it, ex-
hibit that spectacle so painful to the Christian's
heart, of churches neglected, tumbling in ruins, and
become almost the exclusive residence of the beasts
of the field and birds of the air. Our regular mi-
nisters may rail on, if they please, against the pre-
valence of fanaticism and superstition. The fault is
in themselves. People go to church, not to doze,
but to worship; and it is not wonderful that they
6hould prefer the man who makes them feel, to him
who makes them sleep.

Let it apt be understood that I am vindicating those
fops and petit maitres whom we sometimes see in the
pulpit ; whose frivolous gesticulations would dis-
grace even the theatre itself. No: I speak of that
majesty of action by which St. Paul made Felix
tremble ; and which is in the happiest harmony with
the sublime composition of the Bible itself. It is
this which I would have our ministers to cultivate ;
this, by which they might shake the souls of their
hearers, instead of standing like automata in the

sacred desk, and pouring through lips of wood, the
productions of others ; productions, which they do
not feel themselves, and consequently cannot make
others feel.

Yet these gentlemen who are so much afraid to
stir an arm or raise an eye, imagine the manner in
which Bossuet delivered his discourses. Are they
not satisfied that Bossuet. sustained, by the grandeur
of his manner, the boldest flights of his genius ;
that his action partook of that fervid spirit which in-
spired his orations ; that it kept pace with it, ascend-
ing with it, and kindled in its noblest conflagration I
— Yes ; Bossuet's was a soul of empyrean flame :
and pervaded his system with a force too strong to
permit any portion of it to remain indifferent, while
she was exhibiting her wondrous powers to others;
Bossuet's was a soul firm and intrepid in her own
strength ; she walked abroad at her ease, and pro-
duced, on every occasion, that consentaneous gran-
deur of movement, which consummated her power,
and made her irresistible.

If any one of our regular ministers should answer,
" Give me Bossuet's genius and I will give you his
action," — I reply, this is the very objection ; that
you do give us the works of his and other great ge-
niuses without their appropriate action. The ser-
mons which wc hear from the pulpit are frequently
eloquent in themselves ; yet from the cold com-
posure with which they are recited, it is evident
that they are the offspring of other minds: had they
been the proper children of those who exhibit them,
there would have been a parental warmth which
would infallibly have shown itself in their action.

1 pray that our ministers may reflect upon this »
subject ere it be too late. If they will not be con-
vinced by abstract argument, let them attend to the
facts which are passing before their eyes ; their own
discourses are composed with the utmost pur t/ and
elegance; the reasomi g good; the style, not only
correct, but adorned with the most beautiful figures
of speech : — what is it that carries away the people
from their discourses, at once chaste, strong, and
embellished, to the meeting-houses of dissenting mi-
nisters? On the one hand, indolence or vanity, un-
willing to acknowledge the mortifying truth, may
impute it to a popular fit of fanaticism : on the
other hand, vanity or delusion may impute it to
the superior truth of the doctrines which are taught
by the dissent ers ; but the fact is, that it proceeds
almost entirely from manner, and the mysterious
hold which this takes on human sympathy. The in-
teresting warmth, the anxious earnestness with
which the dissenter pours out his unpremeditated
effusions (however coarse), seize the human heart
with almost inextricable grasp, and enable him to
lead it whithersoever he will. You may say that
his action is redundant, ungraceful, vulgar, that it
violates all rule ; no matter ; let it be as distorted and
frantic as you please, as that of the Pythian priest-
ess : it is earnest ; it comes accompanied with a
voice choked with tears, and shows that the man's
whole soul is engaged for our good; he moves us;
alarms us ; melts us ; and sends us home agitated on
a subject of eternal importance. We find, too, that
these men discover a deep and accurate knowledge
of the human heart ; they anticipate the topics of
peace and consolation which the arch enemy of man-
kind will suggest to the alarmed soul, and by show-
ing us their origin they forbid us to repose upon
them. How different, how superior in point of at-
traction is all this to the soporific doses which are
administered from velvet cushions ! — If it should still
be urged that all this is fanaticism — I desire that
any sermon of Massillon's may be compared with
the most impassioned of those which are delivered

WILLIAM WIRT.

G23

from the dissenter's desk. You "will find in Massil-
lon, indeed, the rarest beauties of cultivated genius,
the most powerful eloquence ; but it is eloquence
entirely void of ostentation ; it seems, indeed, to
burst from the man's heart in spite of himself, and
to come Accompanied with showers of tears just as
irrepressible. But you will find Mnssillou's sermons
marked with exactly the same strong characters
which distinguished the dissenter ; the same passion-
ate importunity addressed to sinners; tiie same
shuddering predictions of the fate which awaits the
impenitent; the same necessity for the regeneration
of the soul ; the same intimate knowledge of the
human heart, the same power of chasing a sin
through every fold and euve'.opemeut, and pursuing
and driving the sinner himself from every corner
and recess of his own deceitful breast ; the same
warnings against the arts of the devil in resisting
the work of grace in the soul; in short you will
find in Massillon, blended witli a personal meekness
and humility (which it was impossible for him to
affect, and which is in itself captivating in the high-
est degree) ami with an eloquence, almost super-
human, all the dissenter's earnestness, tears, en-
treaties, supplications; all his cries, his adjurations;
all his topics of persuasion and of alarm, all his en-
thusiasm, all his terror, all his raptures, and all
that the dealers in opiates now choose to cull fana-
ticism ; yet no one ever dared to call Massillon a
fanatic. Now the great doctrines which are
preached by the Human Catholic, the Protestant,
and the Dissenter, are the same, viz. the fall of man
— the mediation — and salvation by faith in the Re-
deemer. The subject being the same, it can be
only the diiferent manner of presenting it, which
constitutes the difference of effect; yet that differ-
ence we see is vast; and so it will ever continue,
while human nature remains the same and the Pro-
testant clergy refuse to be instructed by experience.

JEFFEESON AT MONTICE1.LO — FC.OM TIIE ECT.OGIUM OF ADAMS
AND JEFFKHSON.

The Mansion House at Monticcllo was built and
furuishe I ia the days of his prosperity. In its di-
mensions, its architecture, its arrangements and or-
nament*, it is such a one as became the character
and fortune of the man. It stands upon an elliptic
plain, formed by cutting down the apex of a moun-
tain ; and, on the west, stretching away to the north
and the south, it commands a view of the Blue
Ridge for a hundred and fifty miles, and bri: gs under
the eye one of the bol lest and most beautiful horizons
in the world: while, o i the east, it presents an ex-
tent of prospect bounded only by the spherical form
of the earth, in which nature seems to sleep in
eternal . repose, as if to form one of her finest con-
trasts with the rude and rolling grandeur on the
west. In the wide prospect, and scattered to the
north and south, are several detached mountains,
which contribute to animate and diversify this en-
chanting landscape ; and among them, to the south,
Willis's Mountain, which is so interestingly depicted
in his Notes. From this summit, the Philosopher
was wont to enjoy that spectacle, among the sub-
limest of Nature's operations, the looming of the
distant mountains; and to watch the motions of the
planets, and the greater revolution of the celestial
sphere. From this summit, ton, the patriot could
look down, with uninterrupted vision, upon the
wide expanse of the world around, for which he
considered himself born ; and upward, to the open
and vaulted heavens which he seemed to approach
as if to keep him continually in mind of his high
responsibility. It is indeed a prospect in which you
see and feel, at once, that nothing mean or little

could live. It is a scene fit to nourish those great
and high-souled principles which formed the ele-
ments of his character, and was a most noble and
appropriate post for such a sentinel over the rights
and liberties of man.

Approaching the house on the east, the visiter
instinctively paused, to cast around one thrilling
glance at this magnificent panorama ; and then
passed to the vestibule, where, if be hod not been
previously informed, he would immediately perceive
that lie was entering the house of no common man.
In the spacious and lofty hall which opens before
him, he marks no tawdry and unmeaning ornaments:
but before, on the right, on the left, all around, the
eye is struck and gratified with objects of science
and taste, so classed and arranged as to produce their
finest effect. On one side, specimens of sculpture
set out in, such order as to exhibit at a coup d'ceil,
the historical progress of that art; from the first
rude attempts of the aborigines of our country, up
to that exquisite and finished bust of the great
patriot himself, from the master hand of Caracci.
On the other side, the visiter sees displayed a vast
collection of specimens of Indian art, their paintings,
weapons, ornaments, and manufactures ; on another,
an array of the fossil productions of our country,
mineral and animal; the polished remains of those
colossal monsters that once trod our forests, and are
no more; and a variegated display of the branching
honours of those " monnrchs of the waste," that
still people the wilds of the American Continent.

From this hall he was ushered into a noble saloon,
from which the glorious landscape of the west again
bursts upon his view ; and which within is hung
thick around with the finest pro motions of the pen-
cil— historical paintings of the most striking sub-
jects from all countries, and all ages; the portraits
of distinguished men and patriots, both of Europe
and America, and medallions and engravings in end-
less profusion.

While the visiter was yet lost in the contempla-
tion of these treasures of the arts and sciences, he
was startled by the approach of a strong and
sprightly step, and turning with instinctive reverence
to the door of entrance, he was met by the tall, and
animated, and stately figure of the patriot himself —
his countenance beaming with intelligence and be-
nignity, and his outstretched hand, with its strong
and cordial pressare, confirming the courteous wel-
come of his lips. And then came that charm of
manner and conversation that passes all description
— so cheerful — so unassuming — so free, and easy,
and frank, and kind, and gay — that even the young,
and overawed, and embarrasse 1 visiter at once for-
got his fears, and felt himself by the side of an old
and familiar friend.

PATRICK. nEXKT — FEOM TnE 6KETCnES.

The following is the fullest description which the
author has been able to procure of Mr. Henry's
person. He was nearly six feet high ; spare, and
what may be called raw-bone 1, witli a slight stoop
of the shoulders — his complexion was dark, sun-
burnt, and sallow, without any appearance of blood
in his cheeks — his countenance grave, thoughtful,
penetrating, and strongly marked with the linea-
ments of deep reflection — the earnestness of his
manner, united with an habitual contraction or
knitting of his brows, and those lines of thought
with which his face was profusely furrowed, gave to
his countenance, at some times, the appearance of
seventy — yet such was the power which he had
over its expression, that he could shake off from it
in an instant all the sternness of winter, and robe it
in the brightest smiles of spring. His forehead was

624

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

high and Etraight, yet forming a sufficient angle
with the lower part of his face — his nose somewhat
of the Roman stamp, though like that which we see
in the bust of Cicero, it was rather long, than
remarkable for its Caesarean form — of the colour of
his eyes, the accounts are almost as various as those
which we have of the colour of the ehamelion — they
are said to have been blue, grey, what Lavater calls
green, hazel, brown, and black— the fact seems to
have been, that they were of a bluish grejT, not
large ; and being deeply fixed in his head, overhung
by dark, long, aud full eye-brows, and farther
shaded by lashes that were both long and black,
their apparent colour was as variable as the lights
in which they were seen — but all concur in saying
that they were, unquestionably, the finest feature in
his face — brilliant — full of spirit, and capable of the
most rapidly shifting and powerful expression — at
one time piercing and terrible as those of liars, and
then again soft and tender as those of pity herself —
his cheeks were hollow — his chin long, but well
formed, and rounded at the end, so as to form a
proper counterpart to the upper part of his face.
" I find it difficult," says the correspondent from
whom I have borrowed this portrait, " to describe
his mouth ; in which there was nothing remarkable,
except when about to express a modest dissent from
some opinion on which lie was commenting — he
then had a sort of half smile, in which the want of
conviction was perhaps more strongly expressed,
than the satirical emotion, which probably prompted
it. His manner and address to the court and jury
might he deemed the excess of humility, diffidence,
and modesty. If, as rarely happened, he had occa-
sion to answer any remark from the bench, it was
impossible for meekness herself to assume a manner
less presumptuous — but in the smile of which I have
been speaking, you might anticipate the want of
conviction, expressed in his answer, at the moment
that he submitted to the superior wisdom of the
court, with a grace that would have done honour
to Westminster Hall. In his reply to counsel, his
remarks on the evidence, and on the conduct of
the parties, he preserved the same distinguished
deference and politeness, still accompanied, however,
by the never failing index of this sceptical smile,
where the occasion prompted." In 6hort, his fea-
tures were manly, bold, and well proportioned, full
of intelligence, and adapting themselves intuitively
to every sentiment of his mind, and every feeling of
his heart. His voice was not remarkable for its
sweetness; but it was firm, full of volume, and
rather melodious than otherwise. Its charms con-
sisted in the mellowness and fulness of its note, the
ease and variety of its inflections, the distinctness
of its articulation, the fine effect of its emphasis, the
felicity with which it attuned itself to every emo-
tion, and the vast compass which enabled it to
range through the whole empire of human passion,
from the deep and tragic half whisper of horror, to
the wildest exclamation of overwhelming rage. In
mild persuasion it was as soft and gentle as the
zephyr of spring ; while in rousing his countrymen
to arms, the winter storm that mars along the
troubled Baltic, was not more awfully sublime. It
was at all times perfectly under his command ; or
rather, indeed, it seemed to command itself, and to
modulate its notes, most happily, to the sentiment
he was uttering. It never exceeded, or fell short of
the occasion. There was none of that long con-
tinued and deafening vociferation, which always
takes place when an ardent speaker has lost posses-
sion of himself — no monotonous clangour, no dis-
cordant shriek. Without being strained, it had that
body and enunciation which filled the most distant

ear, without distressing those which were nearest
him : hence it never became cracked or hoarse, even
in his longest speeches, but retained to the last all
its clearness and fulness of intonation, all the deli-
cacy of its inflection, all the charms of its emphasis,
and enchanting variety of its cadence.

His delivery was perfectly natural and well timed.
It has indeed been said, that, on his first rising, there
was a species of sub-cantus very observable by a
stranger, and rather disagreeable to him ; but that
in a very few moments even this itself became
agreeable, and seemed, indeed, indispensable to the
full effect of his peculiar diction and conceptions.
In point of time, he was very happy: there was no
slow and heavy dragging, no quaint and measured
drawling, with equidistant pace, no stumbling and
floundering among the fractured members of de-
ranged and broken periods, no undignified hurry
and trepidation, no recalling and recasting of sen-
tences as he went along, no retraction of one word
and substitution of another not better, and none of
those affected bursts of almost inarticulate impetu-
osity, which betray the rhetorician rather than dis-
play the orator. On the contrary, ever self-col-
lected, deliberate, and dignified, he seemed to have
looked through the whole period before he com-
menced its delivery ; and hence his delivery was
smooth, and firm, and well accented ; slow enough
to take along with him the dullest hearer, and yet
so commanding that the quick had neither the
power nor the disposition to get the start of him.
Thus he gave to every thought its full and appro-
priate force; and to every image all its radiance and
beauty.

No speaker ever understood better than Mr.
Henry, the true use and power of the pause ; and
no one ever practised it with happier effect. His
pauses were never resorted to, for the purpose of
investing an insignificant thought with false im-
portance; much less were they ever resorted to as
sl finesse, to gain time for thinking. The hearer was
never disposed to ask, " why that pause ?" nor to
measure its duration by a reference to his watch.
On the contrary, it always came at the very moment
when he would himself have wished it, in order to
weigh the striking and important thought which
had just been uttered ; and the interval was always
filled by the speaker with a matchless energy of
look, which drove the thought home through the
mind and through the heart.

His gesture, and this varying play of his features
and voice, were so excellent, so exquisite, that many
have referred his power as an orator principally to
that cause ; yet this was all his own, and his ges-
ture, particularly, of so peculiar a cast, that it is
said it would have become no other man. I do not
learn that it was very abundant ; for there was no
trash about it ; none of those false motions to which
undisciplined speakers are so generally addicted ;
no chopping nor sawing of the air ; no thumping of
the bar to express an earnestness, which was much
more powerfully, as well as more elegantly, ex-
pressed by his eye and his countenance. Whenever
he moved his arm, or his hand, or even his finger, or
changed the position of his body, it was always to
some purpose; nothing was inefficient ; every thing
told; every gesture, every attitude, every look, was
emphatic ; all was animation, energjr, and dignity.
Its great advantage consisted in this — that various,
bold, and original as it was, it never appeared to be
studied, affected, or theatrical, <*r " to overstep," in
the smallest degree, " the modesty of nature ;" for
he never made a gesture or assumed an attitude,
which did not seem imperiously demanded by the
occasion. Every look, every motion, every pause,

JOHN PICKERING.

625

every start, -was completely filled and dilated by
the thought which he was uttering, and seemed in-
deed to form a part of the thought itself. His
action, however strong, was never vehement. He
was never seen rushing forward, shoulder foremost,
fury in Ins countenance, and frenzy in his voice, as
if to overturn the bar, and charge his audience
sword in hand. His judgment was too manly and
too solid, and his taste too true, to permit him to
indulge in any such extravagance. His good sense
and his self-possession never deserted him. In the
loudest storm of declamation, in the fiercest blaze of
passion, there was a dignity and temperance which
gave it seeming. He had the rare faculty of impart-
ing to his hearers all the excess of his own feelings,
and all the violence and tumult of his emotions, all
the dauntless spirit of his resolution, and all the
energy of his soul, without any sacrifice of his own
personal dignity, and withoit treating his hearers
otherwise than as rational beings. He was not the
orator of a day; and therefore sought not to build
his fame on the sandy basis of a false taste, fostered,
if not created, by himself. He spoke for immor-
tality ; and therefore raised the pillars of his glory
on the only solid foundation — the rock of nature.

JOHN PICKERING,

TnE distinguished jurist and philologist, was the
son of Ool. Timothy Pickering, the early Whig
leader of Salem, his native place, the fellow-sol-
dier of Washington, and his Secretary of State
from 1795 until his removal in the administration
of Adams in 1800 ; subsequently a member of Con-
gress, a member of the board of war in 1812, as
he had discharged numerous similar duties in the
Revolution, again member of Congress from 1814
to 1817, when he retired at that period to private
life, employing himself in agriculture. After the
war of the" Revolution, he lived in Pennsylvania,
and was delegated by that state to visit the
Western settlement", and adjust a controversy
which had been excited by the claims, of Con-
necticut emigrants. While residing near Wilkes-
barre, in the discharge' of this duty, he was
seized in his bed at night by a band of ruffians,
carried off to the forest, and exposed to various
outrages and privations, with the design of inti-
midation. After twenty days of this abduction,
he reappeared before his family. " So much," it
is said, " was lie altered by the sufferings and
hardships he had endured, that his children fled
from his presence affrighted by h;s haggard, un-
shaven appearance, and his wife looked upon him
with consternation as upon an apparition."*

He died Jan. '39, 1829, in his eighty-fourth
year. He was always active in public life. His
writings were numerous, and consist of political
pamphlets, on questions of national policy, or of
a controversial character growing out of his
vigorous partisanship on the Federal side, occa-
sional addresses and orations, agricultural and
Other papers. His biting Review of the Corres-
pondence between the Hon. John, Adams and the
late William Cunningham, Esq., beginning in
1803 and ending in 1812, one of the most cele-
brated of his compositions, was published in
1824.t

* National Portrait Gallery, ed. 1834, vol. i.

t It is in this production he Dairies the personal att:ick of
John Adams, who had charged him in one of the Letters with
ambitious views, in these terms : — " Under the simple appear-
VOL. I. — 10

John Pickering was born at Salem, Feb. 7,
1772. He was educated at Harvard, and was
then for some time abroad as Secretary to the

United States Minister W. L. Smith at Portugal,
and afterwards from 1799 to 1801 as Secretary to
Rufus King in London. At that date he returned
to America, and was admitted to the bar at
Salem. In 182 he removed to Boston, and in
1829 was made City Solicitor, continuing to hold
the office till within a short time of his death,
May 5, 1846. His intellectual life was divided
between his legal profession and his pursuits as a
scholar. His philological inquiries took a wida
range, including the extremes of Greek literature,
and of our native Indian languages. Of the
extent of his attainments in tiiese studies, his
eulogist, Charles Sumner, has given this animated
sketch : — " Unless," he says, " some memorandum
should be found among his papers, as was the
case with Sir William Jones, specifying the lan-
guages to which he had been devoted, it may bo
difficult to frame a list with entire accuracy. It
is certain that he was familiar with at least
| nine, — the English, French, Portuguese, Italian,
Spanish, German, Romaic, Greek, and Latin; of
these he spoke the first five. He was less fami-
I liar, though well acquainted, with the Dutch,
i Swedish, Danish, and Hebrew; and had explored,
j with various degrees of care, the Arabic, Turkish,
j Syriac, Persian, Coptic, Sanscrit, Chinese, Cochin-
■ Chinese, Russian, Egyptian hieroglyphics, the
Malay in several dialects, and particularly the
Indian languages of America and of the Poly-
nesian islands. His labors span immeasurable
spaces in the world's history, — embracing the
distant, primeval Sanscrit ; the hieroglyphics of
Egypt, now awakening from their mute sleep of
centuries ; the polite and learned tongues of
ancient and modern Europe ; the languages of
Mohammedanism; the various dialects of tho
forests of North America, and of the sandal-
groves of the Pacific ; only closing with a lingua
franca, from an unlettered tribe on the coast of
Africa, to which his attention had been called
even after the illness which ended in his death."*
In 1810 he published A Vocabulary, or Collec-
tion of Words and Phrases which hare been sup-
posed to be peculiar to the United Stales of Ame-
rica. His Greek and English Lexicon on the
basis of Schrevelius appeared in 1826. For an
enumeration of his other writings, we are indebted
to an article in the Encijclopcedia Americana.^

' ance of a bald head and straight hair, and under professions of

1 profound republicanism, he conceals an ardent ambition, en-
vious of every superior, and impatient of obscurity." This

, was Pickering's reply : — " My 'bald head and straight hair' aro

; what nature has given me; and I have been content with her
arrangements; they are not a fit subject for reproach. Mr.

■ Adams's friend Cunningham reminds him, that it was rather
unfortunate for him to attempt to degrade Hamilton, by calling.

; him 'the little man;' seeing, though with less flesh, ho but-

I passed in stature both him and his son."

* Sumner's Phi Beta Kappa Address, 1S46.
t Supplementary vol. xiv. Art. Pickering.

626

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

To the Memoirs of the American Academy ho
contributed articles On the Adoption of a Uni-
form Orthography for the Indian Languages of
North America; on the Pronunciation of the
Greek Language; on Father Basle and on Lord
North's Island. In the North American Review-
are to he found his Observations on the Impor-
tance of Greek Literature (1820), a review of
Du Ponceau's Dissertation on the Chinese System
of Writing, in volume forty-eight, and a paper on
the Cochin-Chinese language, in volume fifty-two.
To the Encyclopaedia Americana he contributed
an article On the Indian Languages of America.
He was a contributor to The Collections of the
Massachusetts Historical Society, the New York
Review, the American Quarterly Review, and the
American Jurist. His chief legal publications
are an article on The Agrarian Laws in the
Encyclopaedia Americana, an article on. Egyptian
Jurisprudence in the fifty-first volume of the
North American Review, a Lecture on the Alleged
Uncertainty of the Law, and a Review of the In-
ternational McLeod Question. He also delivered
a eulogy on Dr. Bowditch, and an address before
the American Oriental Society.

The prominent traits of Pickering's moral life
are alluded to by Sumner in his mention of " his
modesty, his sweetness of temper, his simplicity
of life, his kindness to the young, his sympathy
with studies of all kinds. Ids sensibility to beauty,
his conscientious character, his passionless mind."*

NATHANIEL BOWDITCH.
Nathaniel, the fourth son of Habakkulc and
Mary Ingersoll Bowditch, was born at Salem,
Massachusetts, March 26, 1773. His father, after
following, as a shipmaster, the calling of his
ancestors for several generations, retired from the
sea, and engaged in the business of a cooper. He
could not afford to bestow upon any of his family
of seven children any advantages of education
beyond those afforded by the common schools of
the town, and these they enjoyed for a few years
only, ,is Nathaniel was summoned at the early
age of ten to work in his shop. He was soon
afterwards apprenticed to a ship-chandler, and
while serving his time, gave significant evidence
of his mathematical talents, by devoting to the
slate every spare moment which was not occu-
pied in the perusal of some book. He was so in-
defatigable a reader, that at an early age he went
through an entire encyclopaedia letter by letter.
On'thc 11th of January, 1795, Bowditch sailed

from Salem as clerk to Captain Henry Prince, of
the ship Henry, for the Lie of Bourbon. The
vessel returned after a year's absence, and he
sailed a second time, as supercargo, in the Astrasa,
to Lisbon, Madeira, and Manilla. A third voyage
followed to the Mediterranean, and a fourth to the
East Indies, succeeded by others in the same
direction, until the year 180±, when he left the

* Address, p. 8.

sea and became president of a Marine Insurance
Company in his native city.

During his seafaring life he took a deep interest
in the instruction of sailors in navigation, and
with such success, that the fact of having sailed
with him became a strong recommendation to
seamen who had enjoyed that privilege, and was
often the cause of their promotion. He was at
the same time a thorough student, acquiring
Latin in order to master Newton's Principia;
French, to obtain access to the valuable mathe-
matical works in that language; and Spanish,
German, and Italian, for general literary pur-
poses.

In 1800 he published his New American Prac-
tical Navigator, a work which originated in a
series of corrections wdiich he commenced of John
Hamilton Moore's book on the same subject.
These grew so numerous, that he wisely judged it
best to publish an independent work. It became
widely successful, and is the universally adopted
guide in the American marine, and to a great
extent in the naval service of England and
France.

Happening, in 1802, to be detained in Boston
by a contrary witid on the Commencement day
of Harvard, he strolled to the church in which
the exercises were held, and had the surprise and
gratification of hearing his name called as a reci-
pient of the degree of Master of Arts. It was the
first and most welcome of a long series of similar
public recognitions of his services.

In 1806 he published an extremely valuable
chart of the harbors of Salem, Beverly, Marble-
head, and Manchester, and in 1823 removed to
Boston, to take charge as Actuary of the newly
formed Massachusetts Hospital Life Insurance
Company, an office which he retained for the
remainder of his life. "While thus occupied, he was
complimented by the. offer of the Hollis Professor-
ship of Harvard College, of the Professorship of
Mathematics in the Univer-ity of Virginia, and of
the Professorship of Mathematics at West Point :
so that his ability was substantially recognised by
the whole country. Meanwhile he wrote papers
on astronomy for the transactions of the Ameri-
can Academy of Arts and Sciences, contributed
to the Analyst and Mathematical Diary edited
by Dr. Adrain, wrote articles for the American
edition of Rees's Cyclopaedia, the article on Mo-
dern Astronomy in the twentieth volume of the
North American Review, and an account of the
comet of 1806 in the fourth volume of the Month-
ly Anthology.

In 1829, the first volume of his great work, the
translation and amplification of La Place's Mecha-
nique Celeste, appeared. In studying the original
work, Bowditch had frequently been arrested by
the want of demonstration of the means by which
results had been arrived at, the author presup-
posing a greater familiarity with the subject on
the part of his reader than could reasonably be
predicated of any but himself. In Bowditch's own
words, "I never come across one of La Place's
' Thus it plainly appears,' without feeling sure that
I have got hours of hard study before me to fill up
the chasm, and find out and show how it plainly
appears." In the task of filling up these chasms,
and presenting the whole in a form for English
readers, he succeeded so well, that La Place is

JOHN RANDOLPH.

627

said to have remarked, " I am sure that Dr. Bow-
ditch comprehends my work, for he has not only
detected my errors, but has shown me how I
came to fall into them." He commenced the
work in 1815, and it formed the constant occupa-
tion of his laborious life up to the time of his
decease. The second volume appeared in 1832,
and the third in 1834. Each of the three con-
tains about a thousand quarto pages. He was
attacked, while engaged in correcting the proof
sheets of the fourth, by a disease which proved
fatal, but continued his occupation in the inter-
vals of relief from pain almost until the time of
his death. He refused to allow its publication by
subscription, waiting until his means would allow
him to bear the expense of the issue of five
volumes of about a thousand pages each, say-
ing that he would rather spend a thousand dol-
lars a year for such an object than in keeping a
carriage. The wjrk met with a better sale than
he anticipated, but was still a source of pecuniary
losf to him.

Dr. B iwditch was an eminently practical busi-
' ness man, and executed the important moneyed
trusts co nmitted to him by his official position
with great success. He ace >m dished the great
results of his life by untiring and systematic in-
dustry. He rose early, in winter two hours
before dawn, and when not occupied in his office,
was almjst always to be found in his library,
where it was his delight to be surrounded by his
family, an affectionate disposition forming one of
tb.3 many fine traits of his character. He went
out but little, but w.is always glad to see his
friends, taking great delight in social intercourse
anl lively onversation. He was universally
esteemed for the purity of his life, his integrity,
and cousistent course. He was familiarly known,
in allusion perhaps to his moral as well as scien-
tific career, as " the Great Pilot." His last disease
was a scirrhus of the stomach, which for four
we.'ks before his death rendered it impossible for
him to swallow solid food or scarcely any liquid.
He suffered little from hunger, hut continually
from thirst, which was partially relieved by
m listening his lips with cold water. His frame
wasted away, but his mental faculties remained
unclouded, and his last act on the morning of his
death was to recognise and address with the
feeble powers of sight and voice which remained
' to him, each member of his family gathered
around his couch. " You see," he said, " I can
distinguish you all, and I now give you my part-
ing blessing. The time is come; Lord, now
lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, accord-
ing to thy word." This was on Friday, March
16th, 1838. He was buried on the following
Sunday morning, beneath Trinity Church, Bos-
ton.

The merits of Bowditch entitle him to a high
rank among the mathematicians of the world.
They have been carefully stated by Pickering in
his Eulogy before the Academy of Arts and
Sciences.* His commentary was an original
work, and he made many discoveries of his own.

Notices of Bowditch's Life and Character ap-
peared shortly after his death, in the Eulogy

* May 29, 1S3S.

j delivered at the request of the Corporation of
' Salem, by Judge Daniel Appleton White, and in
- the discourse of the Rev. Alexander Young.
These celebrate the sincerity, simplieit}7, and
modesty of his character. His vivacity is re-
corded in an anecdote preserved by Judge White:
— " A late venerable lady, as remarkable for her
sagacity as for her love of goodness, after her
first interview with Dr. Bowditch, observed, ' I
admire that man, for he is a live man.' He was
truly a live man in his whole nature and consti-
tution, in his mind, conscience, soul, and body.
Life was in his every thought, feeling, and action.
So rapid were his thoughts on all subjects, that
his judgment would often appear intuitive to
those who c >uld not follow his mind in its logical
process, or perceive the steps to its conclusions.
An instantaneous spring of hearty glee or mental
delight, would sometimes, notwithstanding his
natural and delicate sense of decorum, set all
rules of etiquette at defiance, and exhibit itself
in the same open and joyous manner, whether he
were at the fireside of a friend, or at the gover-
nor's council-board."*

JOHN RANDOLPH.
JonM Randolph was born at Oawsons, the estate
of Col. Theodorick Bland, his maternal grand-
father, Prince George County, Virginia, June 2,
1773. He was the son of a wealthy planter, and
descended in the seventh degree from Pocahontas.
When a little over two years old he lost his
father. He was, however, tenderly reared by his
mother, who in 1778 was married to St. George
Tucker. His delicate constitution prevented his
engaging in the usual athletic sports of childhood,
and at a very early age he acquired a taste for
books, his first favorites being the Fairy Tales,
the stories in the Spectator, Shakespeare, and
Voltaire's Charles XII. In 1781 the family were
obliged to leave their residence at Matoax, in con-
sequence of the invasion of Virginia by Arnold.
Randolph was soon after placed at the school of
Walker Maury at Orange County, and on the
removal of the establishment to Williamsburg,
followed his teacher to that place. After passing
a few months at Princeton and Columbia Colleges,
he completed his course at William and Mary, and
studied law with his uncle, Edmund Randolph, at
Philadelphia. In 1794 he returned to Virginia,
and on coming of age in the same year entered on
the personal management of his large estate. In
1799 he became a candidate of the Republican
party for Congress, in the Charlotte district. His
first speech was made upon the hustings at the
March court, and was an answer to an address on
the Federal side by Patrick Henry, who had been
induced to overcome his early objections to the
recently adopted constitution, and run as a candi-
date for the Legislature. The occasion felt to be
the last on which Henry could ever appear before
the public, by whom he was idolized, attracted a
great concourse, who listened with interest to the
young man as well as the veteran. Both, though
representing opposite opinions, were elected.

Randolph, with the exception of the three
intervals of two year? each, retained his scat in

* Eulogy on the Life anrl Character of >iathaniol Bowditch,
Salem. Encyclopaedia Americana, Supplt.

628

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

the House of Representatives for thirty years.
He was a thorough-going advocate of the doctrine
of state rights. His first speech was in support

&/Z/*sL

-ft^£t

of a hill to reduce the army, in which some un-
guarded expressions respecting the military pro-
fession led to a scene a short time after at the
theatre, where some officers of the army took
occasion of points in the play to make remarks
offensive to Randolph, who communicated a state-
ment of the affair to Adams, who brought it
before Congress, where a report was made that
no " breach of the privileges of the House had
been committed by the offenders." This was
rejected, but no further action taken.

In the question of the purchase of Louisiana,
Randolph sided with Jefferson. He opposed the
embargo, the war of 1812, the re-charter of the
United States Bank, and the Missouri Com-
promise. One of his most marked efforts was his
speech in 1 8-22 against a resolution which had
been offered expressing the sympathy for the
Greeks then struggling for independence. A
similar movement was at the same time in pro-
gress in South America. In 1826, after the
appointment by Adams of Clay as Secretary of
State, Randolph referred to the affair as "the
coalition of Blifil and Black George — the com-
bination, unheard of till then, of the puritan with
the blackleg." This led to a challenge from Clay.
The celebrated duel which followed is described
by Randolph's biographer.

" The night before the duel," says General James
Hamilton, of South Carolina, " Mr. Randolph sent
for me. I found him calm, but in a singularly kind
and confiding mood. He told me that he had some-
thing on his mind to tell me. He then remarked,
'Hamilton, I have determined to receive, without
returning, Clay's fire ; nothing shall induce me to
harm a hair of his head ; I will not make his wife a
widow, or his children orphans. Their tears would
be shed over his grave ; hut when the sod of Virginia
rests on my bosom, there is not in this wide world
one individual to pay this tribute upon mine.' His
eyes filled, and resting his head upon his hand, we
remained some moments silent. I replied, ' My dear
friend (for ours was a sort of posthumous friendship,
bequeathed by our mothers), I deepty regret that
you have mentioned this subject to me ; for you call
upon me to go to the field and to see you shot down,
or to assume the responsibility, in regard to your
own life, in sustaining your determination to throw
it away. But on this subject, a man's own con-
science and his own bosoui are his best monitors. I
will not advise, but under the enormous and unpro-
voked personal insult you have offered Mr. Clay, I
cannot dissuade. I feel bound, however, to com-
municate to Colonel Tattnall your decision.' He
begged me not to do so, and said, ' he was very
much afraid that Tattnall would take the studs and
refuse to go out with him.' I, however, sought
Colonel Tattnall, and we repaired about mid-
Eight to Mr. Randolph's lodgings, whom we found
reading Milton's great poem. For some moments he
did not permit us to say one word in relation to the
approaching duel ; and he at once commenced one
of those delightful criticisms on a passage of this

poet, in which he was wont so enthusiastically to
indulge. After a pause, Colonel Tattnall remarked,
' Mr. Randolph, I am told you have determined not
to return Mr. Clay's fire; I must say to you, my dear
sir, if I am only to go out to see you shot down, you
must find some other friend.' Mr. Randolph re-
marked that it was his determination. After much
conversation on the subject, I induced Colonel Tatt-
nall to allow Mr. Randolph to take his own course,
as his withdrawal, as one of his friends, might lead
to very injurious misconstructions. At last, Mr.
Randolph, smiling, said, ' Well, Tattnall, I promise
you one thing, if I see the devil in Clay's eye, and
that with malice prepense he means to take my life,
I may change my mind.' A remark I knew he made
merely to propitiate the anxieties of his friend.

" Mr. Clay and himself met at 4 o'clock the suc-
ceeding evening, on the banks of the Potomac. But
he saw ' no devil in Clay's eye,' but a man fearless,
and expressing the mingled sensibility and firmness
which belonged to the occasion.

" I shall never forget this scene, as long as I live.
It has been my misfortune to witness several duels,
but I never saw one, at least in its sequel, so deeply
affecting. The sun was just setting behind the blue
hills of Randolph's own Arirginia. Here were two
of the most extraordinary men our country in its
prodigality had produced, about to meet in mortal
combat. Whilst Tattnall was loading Randolph's
pistols I approached my friend, I believed, for the
last time; I took his hand; there was not in its
touch the quivering of one pulsation. He turned to
me and said, 'Clay is calm, but not vindictive — I
hold my purpose, Hamilton, in any event ; remember
this.' On handing him his pistol, Colonel Tattnall
sprung the hair-trigger. Mr. Randolph said, ' Tatt-
nall, although I am one of the best shots in Virginia,
with either a pistol or gun, yet I never fire with the
hair-trigger ; besides, I have a thick buckskin glove
on, winch will destroy the delicacy of my touch,
and the trigger may fly before I know where I am.'
But, from his great solicitude for his friend, Tattnall
insisted upon hairing the trigger. On taking their
position, the fact turned out as Mr. Randolph anti-
cipated ; his pistol went off before the word, with
the muzzle down.

"The moment this event took place, General
Jesup, Mr. Clay's friend, called out that he would
instantly leave the ground with his friend, if that
occurred again. Mr. Clay at once exclaimed, it was
entirely an accident, and begged that the gentleman
might be allowed to go on. On the word being
given, Mr. Clay fired without effect, Mr. Randolph
discharging his pistol in the air. The moment Mr.
Clay saw that Mr. Randolph had thrown away his
fire, with a gush of sensibility, he instantly ap-
proached Mr. Randolph, and said with an emotion I
never can forget: — ' I trust in God, my dear sir, you
are untouched ; after what has occurred, I would
not have harmed you for a thousand worlds.' "*

In. 1829, declining a re-election, he retired from
Congress. He was soon after chosen a member
of the convention for the revision of the constitu-
tion of his state, and distinguished himself in that
body by his opposition to change. One of his
most celebrated speeches was called forth in this
convention on a proposal to provide the mode in
which future amendments should be made in the
new instrument. This is one of its marked pas-
sages : —

* Benton has also given a history of this affair. — Thirty Tears1
View, i. TO.

DAVID HITCHCOCK

629

Doctor Franklin, who, in shrewdness, especially in
all that related to domestic life, was never excelled,
used to say that two movings were equal to one fire.
And gentlemen, as if they were afraid that this
besetting sin of republican governments, this rerum
novaruin labido (to us a very homely phrase, but one
that comes pat to the purpose), this maggot of inno-
vation, would cease to bite, are here gravely making
provision that this Constitution, which we should
consider as a remedy for all the ills of the body
politic, may itself be amended or modified at any
future time. Sir, I am against any such provision.
I should as soon think of introducing into a marriage
contract a provision for divorce, and thus poisoning
the greatest blessing of mankind at its very source—
at its fountain head. He has seen little, and has
reflected less, who does not know that " necessity" is
the great, powerful, governing principle of affairs
here. Sir, I am not going into that question, which
puzzled Pandemonium— the question of liberty and
necessity :

Free will, fixed fate, foreknowledge absolute ;

but I do contend that necessity is one principal instru-
ment of all the good that man enjoys. The hap-
piness of the connubial union itself depends greatly
on necessity ; and when you touch this, you
touch the arch, the key-stone of the arch, on which
the happiness and well-being of society is founded.
Look at the relation of mister and slave (that oppro-
brium, in the opinion of some gentlemen, to all
civilized society and all free government). Sir,
there are few situations in life where friendships so
6trong and so lasting are formed, as in that very
relation. The slave knows that'he is bound indisso-
lubly to his master, and must, from necessity, remain
always under his control. The master knows that
he is bound to maintain and provide for his slave so
long as he retains him in his possession. And each
party accommodates himself to his situation. I
have seen the dissolution of many friendships — such,
at least, as were so called ; but I have seen that of
master and slave endure so long as there remained a
drop of the blood of the master to which the slave
could cleave. Where is the necessity of this provi-
sion in the Constitution ? Where is the use of it ?
Sir, what are we about ? Have we not been undoing
what the wiser heads — I must be permitted to say
so — yes, sir, what the wiser heads of our ancestors
did more than half a century ago ? Can any one
believe that we, by any amendments of ours, by any
of our scribbling on that parchment, by any amulet,
any legerdemain — charm — Abracadabra — of ours
can prevent our sons from doing the same thing —
that is, from doing as they please, just as we are
doing as we please? It is impossible. Who can
bind posterity ? When I hear of gentlemen talk of
making a Constitution for " all time," and intro-
ducing provisions into it for " nil time," and yet see
men here that are older than the Constitution we
are about to destroy — (I am older myself than the
present Constitution — it was established when I was
a boy) — it reminds me of the truces and the peaces
of Europe. They always begin: "In the name of
the most holy and undivided Trinity," and go on to
declare, " there shall be perfect and perpetual peace
and unity between the subjects of such and such
potentates for all time to come ;" and in less than
seven years they are at war again.

A short time previous to this Genera! Jackson,
on his accession to office, tendered Randolph the
mission to Russia. The office was accepted, and
in August, 1830, the new minister arrived at his
post. He left St. Petersburgh soon after in conse-

quence of ill health, and in October, 1831, return-
ed home. His last political act was to speak to
popular assemblies throughout his state iH opposi-
tion to the proclamation of General Jackson
against nullification, when almost too feeble to
stand. He determined on another voyage to
Europe for the benefit of his health, and left home
to embark at Philadelphia. He sto] ped at Wash-
ington, where he had an interesting interview
with 1 lis old antagonist Clay. He was exposed
on his arrival in Philadelphia, on a stormy evening,
to the cold and rain, his disease increased, and
on the nineteenth of May reached its fatal termi-
nation.

Randolph's mental, like his physical organiza-
tion, was of the most sensitive nature. Though
an active public man, he was morbidly fond of
retirement. Thoroughly honest, he scorned low
means to attain high position, and his great
sarcastic powers did not tend to increase the
number of his friends. He was powerful in invec-
tive, and not sparing in its use. His speeches
were always direct, and produced great effect.
Some of his pointed phrases, like that of " mas-
terly inactivity," by which he indicated the course
of passive resistance he deemed proper to be pur-
sued by the opposition to the Adams administra-
tion, have already passed into proverbs, as his
eccentricities, doubtless in an exaggerated form,
have furnished material for collectors of anecdote.
His temper was quick, his antipathies strong, but
his disposition was kindly, and he was a thorough-
going friend. Some of the most pleasant portions
of his biography are these which admit us into
his intimacies. He became deeply impressed by
the truths of the Christian religion, and was a
devout member of the Ancient Church of the Old
Dominion, and of the England he so much
admired. He greatly enjoyed his visits to London
from his sympathy with the associations of the
great historic city, and we have heard a story of
his walking through the Strand with his arms
crossed on his breast in token of the reverence of
a pilgrim.

By his will he manumitted his slaves, three
hundred in number, and provided for their sup-
port. The validity of the instrument was dis-
puted by the family on the ground of insanity in
the testator, but was sustained by the court.
That Randolph was at times insane there appears
little reason to doubt. He felt his liability to
attacks of this kind deeply. "I have lived," he
said to Col. Benton, "in dread of insanity."
The remark may be taken as a key to much that
is strange in his career.

His letters, interspersed through Garland's Life,
present the man for the most part in his genial
moments. A separate selection "from among
several hundred" as the preface informs us,
Letters of John Randolph, to a Young Relative :
embracing a Scries of Years, from Early Youth,
to Mature Manhood, was published in 1834.*

DATED HITdlCOCK.
A volume of the Poetical Works of Darid Hitch-
cock was published at Boston in 1806, with a

* Philadelphia : Carey, Lea, and Blancliard. 8vo. pp. 254.
Benton's Thirty Years' View, i. 473. Party Leaders; by Jo. G.
Baldwin, pp. 135. Hugh A. Garland's Life of Randolph.

630

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

prefatory memoir which, in connexion with the
merits of the verses, furnishes mutter for a pass-
ing notice. The chief poem of the volume, oc-
tosyllabic measure, is in four parts, and entitled,
The Shade of Plato: or a Defence of Religion,
Morality, and Government. It is written with
remarkable ease and smoothness. The Shade of
Plato appears, to clear up objections to the moral
government of the world, in the question of fate
and free-will, and " vindicate the ways of God to
man," closing with some shrewd and sober ex-
postulations on the tendency to revolutionary
principles in vogue with the Jacobinical doctrines
at the beginning of the century. There were
many lessons at that time from pulpit and editor's
desk from the following text. —

At this, I ask'd, is injury done,

To say there's twenty gods or One ?

What matter, if men are sincere,

How many deities they fear?

Whether they rev'rence Three in One,

Or pay their homage to the sun ;

Or worship Apis, Jove, or Baal,

Or own no deity at all?

Of what avail religious creeds,

If men are honest in their deeds?

If they'll not lie, nor cheat, nor steal?

Nor interrupt the public weal?

If they the gen'ral good pursue,

What more have mortals here to do?

Why stick at falsehood, theft, or fraud ?
If men may disbelieve a God,
And their professions be sincere,
Pray tell me what they have to fear ?
If this belief be rooted firm,
Duty must seem a senseless term ;
And men, with passions to entice,
May range the crooked maze of vice,
Till life's contingent scene is clos'd,
Like tapers to the wind expos'd.

Tis faith in one All-Seeing Eye,
That makes mankind themselves deny:
That does licentiousness control ;
That curbs the proud, rebellious soul ;
And did your race this thought forego,
No bounds to violence below ;
Kot conscience, nor the world's applause,
Nor magistrates, nor civil laws ;
Nor monarchs, with despotic frown,
Could keep the tide of folly down.
*******

Yet plain as is the sacred truth,
It seems in modern days uncouth ;
And now in reason's boasted school,
Is lash'd with boundless ridicule ;
Now human wisdom fain would prove,
That there's no God who rules above;
That all this boundless universe,
Was once a huge ungovern'd mass ;
A vast, stupendous whirligig,
Dancing to one Eternal jig,
Till by an accident, outright,
Matter on matter chane'd to light ;
Substance, from one confused storm.
All rush'd to embryotic form,
And chaos, once convuls'd with jars,
Produc'd the sun, and moon, and stars.
And this terraqueous planet here,
Without a God to interfere.

And are these philosophic rules ?
Then tell me, ye enlighten'd fools,
Whether an accidental case,
Could balance worlds in empty space

And bound their course thro' ether's realm.
Without a pilot or a helm.

"The Knight and Quack: or a Looking-glass
for Impostors in Physic, Philosophy, or Govern-
ment ; an Allegorical Poem," illustrates the
same views of the world ; while the remaining
poem, " The Subtlety of Foxes," is a well drawn
fable, exhibiting the logic of might over right.

The author of these verses was born at Beth-
lem, Litchfield County, Ct., in 1773, the son of a
poor and honest shoemaker, who managed, we
are told, in a "sketch of the author's life" pre-
fixed to his volume, to send the son to school
" when want of money or clothing did not pre-
vent." The father died in 1790. His bedside
w;is tended by his affectionate and serious-minded
son, who wrote some of his earliest verses, para-
phrases of one of the Psalms, and of a portion of
Luke, " principally in the night, while watching
with his father in his last sickness." Having lost
that protector, he worked at farming with one of
the select men of the town for five months, and
was then bound apprentice to a shoemaker, re-
maining under the direction of a guardian whom
he chose. That he chafed a little under this course
of life among these overseersis not to he wondered
at, yet, as the sketch naively says, "though ho
might by ignorance or inadvertence sometimes
deserve their displeasure, still, as he never received
the average sum of one dollar per month (ex-
clusive of board) for thirty-four months' work,
he could not acense himself, on the whole, of
being in the least degree prejudicial to their in-
terests." At the age of twenty he practised his
calling for himself at West Stockbridge, and Great"
Harrington in Mass. ; his first earnings of three
or four dollars a month being "laid out in pur-
chasing clothing to supply the place of a few rags,
which, at that time, had become very unfashion-
able apparel for persons of his age." At twenty-
six he married, and at thirty-two reports himself,
in the preface to his book, as poor and laborious,
but enjoying " peace and contentment, with the
addition of three children to his family, upon
whom he dotes almost as much as the opulent do
upon their riches." This is all we know of David
Hitchcock. The Shade of Plato is certainly a
remarkable production under the circumstances,
to have been hammered out between the blows
on the lapstone.

■WILLIAM B1GLLVW.

William Biglow was born in Natick, Mass.,
September 22, 1773. In an account of his early
years, published in one of the numerous periodi-
cals, the Federal Orrery, to which he contributed,
he says : —

I was born in a small country village, of reputa-
ble industrious parents, at a time when they were
as poor as poverty herself. Nothing remarkable
was at that time observed in me, except that I was,
in the phrase of the hamlet, " a desperate cross
body." This, however, must have been owing to
some indisposition of body ; for I naturally possess a
very peaceable temper.

At a proper age I was sent to school — five weeks,
in winter, to a master, who cotild read; and as long,
in summer, to an old maid, who could knit. Possess-
ing a strong attachment to books, I soon passed
from my primer to my psalter, and thence in a short

WILLIAM BIGLOW.

631

time to my Bible, which were the only books we
■used. At this early period of life, I perused all the
neighboring libraries, which contained "Pilgrim's
Progress," " Day of Doom," and many other compo-
sitions equally elegant and entertaining.

Among my schoolfellows, I was so peaceful and
condescending, that I was generally denominated a
coward. But that, which was attributed to pusil-
lanimity, was rather the effect of good nature.
However violently enraged, one smile from my
adversary would instantaneously assuage my anger,
and determine me to become his faithful friend.

Though this complaisance led my schoolmates to
practise man}' impositions upon me, yet I esteemed
this inconvenience sufficiently compensate 1, as it
caused me to be.-ome a great favorite of my old
grandmother. So great was her esteem for me, that
she took me, at a very early age, to wait on her, and
my venerable old grandfather. In this situation I
passed several years; and, as constantly as Saturday
night came round, I very piously said my catechism,
and supped on hasty-pudding ; and, with equal
devotion, rode to meeting on Sunday, and carried
my aunt behind me on a pillion.

There began my poetical career, by composing
"a ballad, containing a true and surprising account
of how the Deacon's son went a courting, lost his sad-
dle, and found it again'' which had a great run in
the village. This circumstance added to my former
fame at school ; and my great aversion to every
species of manual labor determined my father to
give me a public education. I was accordingly sent
to our parson's, where I attended closely and
entirely to my studies, and, in a short time, became
a member of the university.

When I came to college, I was, like most great
authors, awkward and bashful; ami my classmates
immediately concluded that I was either a fool or a
genius. My instructors, however, were clecidedly
of the former opinion. I was by no means an idle
fellow; but I paid very little attention to the stated
exercises of the college, choosing rather to follow
my own inclinations tnan those of my governors. I
studiously avoide 1 cultivating an acquaintance with
any, except a few selected classmates, and this
seclusion continued me an unpolished country fel-
low. At length I have found my way through, and
have retired into a neat rural village, anil taken a
small school, resolving to hide myself from the noise,
insults, and injuries of the world, behind my own
insignificance. I here pass for a good soul: and,
because I cannot be genteel, I do all in my power to
make people believe that I will not.

Notwithstanding I have passed iu the world, thus
silent and unknown, I have, as far as my opportu-
nities would permit, made very accurate observations
upon men and manners. When your paper made its
appearance among us, I co icluded that some of my
compositions might be of service to you, and deter-
mined to publish them periodically. * * * *
After this explanation, you will readily perceive
what kind of fare I shall be likely to serve up; and,
if you will give this a place in your literary oglio, I
will do my endeavor shortly to prepare a still
more palatable morsel.

Charles Chatterdox, Esq.

Shortly after writing this sketch, one of a series
entitled " Omnium Gatherum," he was ordained
and settled in Salem as a teacher. In 1799 he
delivered a poem entitled Education, before the
Phi Beta Kappa at Cambridge. lie soon removed
to Boston, to take charge of the Public Latin
School. Here he remained for several years,
preaching occasionally, contributing to the pe-

riodicals of the day, and preparing several educa-
tional text-books. His school was in high repute.
Edward Everett was one of his pupils. Intem-
perate habits gaining the mastery over him, ha
was compelled to retire to his home at Natick.
He passed some time in keeping a village school
in Maine, and in the latter part of his life was
employed as a proof-reader in the University
printing-office at Cambridge. He died of apoplexy
at Boston, January 12, 1844.

Biglow published in 1830, a History of tht
Town of Natick, Mass., from 1 6o0 to t/ie present
time, and also of Sherburne, Mass., from its In-
corporation, to the end of the year 1830. But his
best and most numerous writings are to be found
in the Village Messenger, a paper published at
Amherst, X. II., which he edited in 1"96, the
Federal Orrery, and the Massachusetts Magazine
of Boston, and other periodicals. It was his
custom, Mr. Buckingham informs us in his
Reminiscences, to walk from Katick to Boston,
some fifteen miles, "spend a day or two in the
newspaper printing-offices, write poetry for his
friends the editors, and then return to his rural
retreat."

Biglow was a ready versifier as well as an
agreeable prose writer. Having given the com-
mencement of his career in the latter, we may
present some of his stages in the former.

His college poem of 1793, entitled " Classology,"
in imitation of the old English song " Heathen
Mythology," describing the humors of his class-
mates with a bacchanal flavor, is not forgotten
at Harvard at the present da}'. He commences : —

Songs of scholars in reveling roundelays
Belched out with hickups at bacchanal go,
Bellowed, till heaveu's high concave rebound th»

lays,
Are all for college carousals too low.
Of dullness quite tired, with merriment fired,
Ami fully inspired with amity's glow,
With hate-drowning wine, boys, and punch all

divine, boys.
The Juniors combine, boys, in friendly high go.

His intimacy with the magazines did not blind
his eyes to their amiable weaknesses in his day,
which are pleasantly satirized in his

RECEIPT TO MAKE A MAGAZIICE.

A plate, of art and meaning void,

To explain it a whole page employed :

Two tales prolonged of maids deluded ;

Two more begun, and one concluded ;

Life of a fool to fortune risen ;

The death of a starved bard in prison ;

On woman, beauty-spot of nature,

A panegyric and a satire;

Cook's voyages, in continuation ;

On taste a tasteless dissertation ;

Description of two fowls aquatic ;

A list of ladies, enigmatic;

A story true from French translated,

Which, with a lie, might well be mated!;;

A mangled slice of English history ;

Essays on miracles and mystery ;

An unknown character attacked,

In story founded upon fact :

Advice to jilts, coquets, and prudes:

And thus the pompous Prose concludes..

For Poetry — a birth-day ode ;
A fable of the mouse and toad;.

632

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

A modest 'wish for a kind 'wife,

And all the other joys of life ;

A song, descriptive of the season;

A poem, free from rhyme and reason :

A drunken song, to banish care ;

A simple sonnet to despair;

Some stanzas on a bridal bed ;

An epitaph on Shock, just dead ;

A pointless epigram on censure ;

An imitation of old Spenser ;

A dull acrostic and a rebus ;

A blustering monody to Phoebus ;

The country 'gainst the town defended ;

And thus the Poetry is ended.

Next, from the public prints, display

The news and lyings of the day ;

Paint bloody Mars & Co. surrounded

By thousands slain, ten thousand wounded:

Steer your sly politics between

The Aristocrat and Jacobin ;

Then end the whole, both prose and rhyme, in

The ravages of Death and Hymen.

His " Cheerful Parson" will give us an inkling
of his amiable character, which all of his con-
temporaries united in admiring, as well as of his
poetic powers.*

THE CHEEEFUL PAIiSOX.

Since bards are all wishing, pray why may not I ?
Though but a poor rhymer, for once I will try.
The life, that I choose, would be pleasant to scarce

one,
Yet the life, that I choose, is the life of a parson

First on me, kind heaven, a fortune bestow,
Too high for contempt and for envy too low,
On which I with prudence may hope to subsist,
Should I be for my damnable doctrine dismissed.

In a rich farming village, where P s shall plead,

And D r feel pulses, give physic, and bleed,

Where A 1 the youths and the children shall

teaeh,
There may I be called and there settled to preach.

Not damning a man for a different opinion,
I'd mix with the Calvinist, Baptist, Arminian,
Treat each like a man, like a Christian and brother,
Preach love to our Maker, ourselves and each other.

On a snug little farm, I'd provide me a seat,
With buildings all simple, substantial and neat;
Some sheep and some cattle my pastures to graze,
And a middle priced pony, to draw my new chaise.

When I find it no longer " good being alone,"

May a mild, rural nymph " become bone of my

bone;"
Not fixed, like a puppet, on fashion's stiff wires,
But who can be genteel, when occasion requires.

Whose wealth is not money, whose beauty's not
paint ;

Not an infidel romp, nor a sour-hearted saint ;

Whose religion 's not heat, and her virtue not cold-
ness,

Nor her modesty fear, nor her wit manly boldness.

Thus settled, with care I'd apportion my time
To my sermons, my garden, my wife, and my rhyme,
To teach the untaught, and to better the bad,
To laugh with the merry, and weeo with the sad.

* Buckingham's Newspaper Reminiscences, vol. ii. 237-237,
276-293, where, with the extracts we have given, will be found
many curious passages of Eiglow's writings.

At the feast, where religion might be a spectator,
Where friendship presided, and mirth was a waiter,
I'd fear not to join with the good-humored clan,
And prove that a parson may still be a man.

Thus blest, may my life be slid smoothly away,
And I still grow more grave, as my hair grows more

gray;

With age may the hope of the Christian increase,
And strew life's descent with the blossoms of peace.

And when we leave this world, as leave it we must,
With rapture meet death, and sink into the dust,
With a tear in each eye may the parish all say,
" They wereakind pair, and did good in their day."
Charles Cijaiterbox, Esq.

EOBEET TEEAT PAINE, JTJN.

Thomas Paine was the second son of Robert
Treat Paine, the celebrated signer of the Decla-
ration of Independence, and was born at Taunton,
Mass., December 9, 1173. His name was subse-
quently changed on his own application, in 1801,
with the plea that he had no Christian name, by
the Massachusetts legislature, to that of his father.

At the age of seven his family removed to Bos-
ton, where he was prepared for Harvard College
in one of the public schools, and entered the
Freshman class in 1788. One of his classmates
wrote a squib on him in verse, on the college
wall, and Paine, on consultation with his friends,
being advised to retaliate in kind, did so, and thus
became aware of the poetic faculty of which he
afterwards made such liberal use. He henceforth
wrote most of his college compositions in verse,
with such success, that he was assigned the post
of poet at the college exhibition in the autumn
of 1791, and at the Commencement in the follow-
ing year. After receiving his diploma he entered
the counting-othce of Mr. James Tisdale, but
must have proved an unprofitable assistant to that
gentleman, as in the words of his biographer " he
made entries in his day-book in poetry, and once
made out a charter-party in the same style;" and
on one occasion when sent to the bank with a

ROBERT TREAT PAKE, J UN.

/-too
I) -J -J

check for five hundred dollars, meeting by the
way some literary acquaintances, he went off with
them to Cambridge, "and spent a week in the
enjoyment of ' the feast of reason and the flow
of soul,' " returning with the cash, at the end of
* that period, to his duties. He was a frequent
contributor at this period to the " Seat of the
Muses" of the Massachusetts Magazine, where a
long poetical correspondence will be found be-
tween Philenia (Mrs. Morton) and himself.

In 1792 the players made their first appearance
in Boston. Their performances were at first
called dramatic recitations, to avoid collision with
a law forbidding " stage plays." This was re-
pealed in 1793, when the Federal-street theatre
was built and opened Feb. 4, 1794, with a prize
prologue, by our author, who fell in love with
Miss Baker, aged sixteen, one of the company.
He passed a large portion of his time the ensuing
year in writing theatrical criticisms ; left the
counting-house and issued the prospectus of the
Federal Orrery, a semi-weekly newspaper, which
made its appearance October 20, 1794. In the
following February he married Miss Baker, and
was turned out of doors by his father. The
breach was partially healed a few years after. In
1795 he delivered a poem on taking his degree of
A.M. at Cambridge, entitled The Invention of
Letters. It contained some lines referring to
Jacobinism, which he spoke, notwithstanding
they had been crossed out by the college authori-
ties. It was perhaps in part owing to this cir-
cumstance that two large editions of the poem
were sold. They produced him a profit of fifteen
hundred dollars. It is dedicated to Washing-
ton, with a rapturous eulogy upon whom it
closes : —

Could Faustus live, by gloomy grave resign'd,
With power extensive, as sublime his mind,
Thy glorious life a volume should compose,
As Alps immortal, spotless as its snows.
The stars should be its types — its press the age ;
The earth its binding — and the sky its page.

In 1794 he produced his earliest ode, Rise Co-
lumbia. It has a spirited burden.

When first the sun o'er ocean glow'd

And earth unveil'd her virgin breast,
Supreme 'mid Nature's vast abode,

Was heard the Almighty's dread behest;
Rise, Columbia, brave and free,
Poise the globe, and bound the sea.

In 1797 he sold his paper, which had suffered
from his neglect of editorial duties, having lost
several thousand dollars by the speculation. He
delivered his poem, the Ruling Passion, before
the Phi Beta Kappa Society in 1797. He gained
twelve hundred dollars by its publication.

The famous song of Adams and Liberty was
written in 1798, at the request of the " Massa-
chusetts Charitable Fire Society." Its sale yield-
ed him a profit of more than seven hundred and
fifty dollars; more than eleven dollars for each
line, as the matter of fact Mr. Allen correctly
calculates. These receipts show a popularity
which, particularly in the case of the two college
poems, is very remarkable. In 1799 he delivered
an oration to an audience " crowded to almost the
utmost pressure of possibility," on the first anni-

versary of the dissolution of the alliance with
France. It was written a few days only before
its deliver}', and was very successful. The author
sent a copy, after its publication, to Washington,
and received a reply, in which the General prays —
" You will be assured that I am never more gra-
tified than when I see the effusions of genius from
some of the rising generation, 'which promises to
secure our national rank in the literary world ; as
I trust their firm, manly, and patriotic conduct
will ever maintain it With dignity in the poli-
tical." He was persuaded about this time to re-
form the drunken habits winch he had unfortunate-
ly acquiued, separate from the theatre, where he
filled the office of " master of ceremonies" and
occasional prologue writer, remove to Newbury-
port, and study law. Here, on the invitation of
the inhabitants he delivered, on the 2d of Janu-
ary, 1800, a Eulogy on Washington. In the same
year he removed to Boston, with his legal in-
structor, Mr., afterwards Chief Justice Parsons.
In 1802 he was admitted, and commenced prac-
tice with great success, but unfortunately the re-
turn of the players, in 1803, led to his former
unsettled mode of life. He did not again rally
from dissipation, neglected his business, planned
but never executed several literary projects, and
died on the 13th of November, 1811, leaving a
daughter and two sons destitute, who were pro-
vided with a home in his father's house.

His works were collected by a most enthu-
siastic and pains-taking editor, Charles Prentis*,
and published at Boston, in 1812, in one largo
8vo. volume.

FROM " THE RULING PASSION."

From fops we turn to pedants, deep and dull;
Grave, without sense ; " o'erflowing, yet not full."
See, the lank book- worm, piled with lumbering

lore,
Wrinkled in Latin, and in Greek fourscore,
With toil incessant, thumbs the ancient page,
Now blots a hero, now turns down a sage!
O'er Learning's field, with leaden eye he strays,
'Mid busts of fame, and monuments of praise
With Gothiok foot he treads on flowers of taste,
Yet stoops to pick the pebbles from the waste.
Profound in trifles, he can tell, how short
Were jEsop's legs, how large was Tully's wart ;
And, sealed by Gutiter, marks, with joy absurd,
The out of Homer's cloak and Euclid's "beard I

Thus through the weary watch of sleepless night,
This learned ploughman plods in piteous plight;
Till the dim taper takes French leave to doze,
And the fat folio tumbles on his toes.

ADAMS AND LIBERTY.

Ye sons of Columbia, who bravely have fought
For those rights, which unstain'd from your sires
had descended,
May you long taste the blessings your valour has
bought,
And your sons reap the soil which your fathers
defended ;

'Jlid the reign of mild peace,
May your nation increase,
With the glory of Rome and the wisdom of
Greece ;
And ne'er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves,
While the earth bears a plaut, or the sea rolls i„s
waves.

634

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

In a clime whose rich vales feed the marts of the
world,
"Whose shores are unshaken by Europe's commo-
tion,
The trident of commerce should never be hurl'd,
To increase the legitimate powers of the ocean.
But should pirates invade,
Though in thunder arrny'd,
Let your cannon declare the free charter of trade.
For ne'er shall the sons, <fce.

The fame of our arms, of our laws the mild sway,

Had justly ennobled our nation in story,
Till the dark clouds of faction obscured our young
day,
And enveloped the sun of American glory.
But let traitors be told,
Who their country have sold,
And barter'd their God for his image in gold,
That ne'er will the sons, <fec.

"While France her huge limbs bathes recumbent in
blood,
And society's base threats with wide dissolution ;
May peace, like the dove who return'd from the
flood,
Find an ark of abode in our mild constitution.
But, though peace is our aim,
Yet the boon we disclaim,
If bought by our sovereignty, justice, or fame.
For ne'er shall the sons, &a.

'Tis the fire of the flint each American warms :

Let Rome's haughty victors beware of collision ;
Let them bring all the vassals of Europe in arms,
"We're a world by ourselves, and disdain a pro-
vision.

While, with patriot pride,
To our laws we're allied,
No foe can subdue us, no faction divide.
For ne'er shall the sons, &a.

Our mountains are crown'd with imperial oak,

"Whose roots, like our liberties, ages have uourish'd.
But long ere our nation submits to the yoke,

Not a tree shall be left on the field where it
flourish'd.

Should invasion impend,
Every grove would descend
From the hill tops they shaded, our shores to de-
fend ;

For ne'er shall the sons, <tc.

Let our patriots destroy Anarch's pestilent worm,
Lest our liberty's growth should be check'd by
corrosion ;
Then let clouds thicken round us : we heed not the
storm ;
Our realm fears no shock, but the -earth's own ex-
plosion ;

Foes assail us in vain,
Though their fleets bridge the main,
For our altars and laws, with our lives, we'll
maintain.

For ne'er shall the sons, <fec.

Should the tempest of war overshadow our land,
Its bolts could ne'er rend Freedom's temple
asunder ;
For, unmov'd, at its portal would "Washington stand,
And repulse, with his breast, the assaults of the
thunder !

His sword from the sleep
Of its scabbard would leap,
And conduct, with its point, every flash to the
deep.

For ne'er shall the sous, <te.

Let fame to the world sound America's voice ;
No intrigues can her sons from their government
sever :
Her pride are her statesmen — their laws are her
choice,
And shall flourish till Liberty slumbers for ever. ,
Then unite heart and hand,
Like Leonidas' band,
And swear to the God of the ocean and land,
That ne'er shall the sons of Columbia be slaves,
While the earth bears a plant, or the sea rolls its
waves.

ISAAC STOET.
A volume was published in Boston in 1801 en-
titled, A Parnassian Shop opened in the Pindaric
Style, by Peter Quince, Esq.* It was a collection
of the waggeries in imitation of Peter Pindar,
which had given life to the well filled columns of
the Farmer 's Museum ; a publication, which drew
upon the pure invention, and sometimes the mere
ingenuity of the clever writers who contributed
to it. They bear date from 1795, and some of
them had been contributed to Barrett's Newbury-
port Political Gazette. The "sign-board," by
way of preface to the volume, shows the elabo-
rate preparation of these trifles, and is itself a
curiosity.

SIGN-BOAKD.

PETER's Shop contains the largest and most
fashionable assortment of Apollo-Ware; beautiful
and variegated Odes, by the yard or piece ; Songs
suitable for any and every occasion — si. gle, or by
the set; one crate of b:oken Elegies, winch can be
so joined together, as to suit the vilest and worthiest
characters: also, a few Elastic Trusses — calculated
with great care and iuge.iuity, for loose Politicians;
one TREPANING INSTRUMENT to be used on such
persons, only, who'have cracked their skulls, in try-
ing to pull down good government. A few bundles
of Invocations, Addresses, Excuses, Conundrums,
Whip-Syllabubs and Deifications — together with a
new-invented Bus and Spatterdashes, for the sole
bei.efit and behoof of slovenly Critics.

Besides the above-mentioned articles, Peter has a
more pleasing aid diversified assortment, in his large
Ware-Hocse, which will be opened as soon as Apollo-
Wure becomes more fashionable. Peter keeps con-
stantly for sale, in the back part of his shop, Par-
nassian-trinkets, Heliconian-spouts, and Pcgassuses
on truckles, for the accommodation of young and
lame Poetasters; also, a very ingenious Spinning-
Wlieel, which will turn off Epic-Poems of any length
and on any subject, with the utmost ease and dis-
patch ; beside furnishing them with glossaries and
obsolete quotations — all of which will be sold on the
most reasonable terms, for cash or abort credit. Ped-
lars and Ballad-Singers may depend on making good
bargains and receiving ample encouragement, at said
buck apartment, where they will find a number of
heavy moulded geniusses eternally at pen nibbing.
Peter has with much care and expense procured a
curious and complicated Water-Machine, for grinding
with astonishing rapidity hard and cramp phrases

* A Parnassian Shop opened in the Pindaric style ; by Peter
Quince, Esq.

Be not imposed on by ft name
But bid your eye the picture's merit trace,

Pous-in. at times, in outlines may be lame.
And Guido's angels destitute of grace. — P. Pindak.

Boston. Eussell and Cutter : 1801. 12 mo. pp. 155.

ISAAC STORY.

635

into Epitaphs, Rebusses, Epigrams, Catches, Love-
Pills, Dying-Psalms, an J Wit-Crackers: — these are
sold by the groee or box, to Country Traders, at a
reduced price.

N. B. Cash and the highest price given for new
ideas.

The verges are, a few of them, political and anti-
democratic in those days; some are patriotic, but
they are mostly amatory and bacchanalian ; a few
are sheer nonsense verses. There is a short series
written in 179!) of Consolatory Odes, dedicated
with Christian piety to those unfortunate beings
who labor under the malignant influence of the
Democratic mania. The author of tho.-.e clever
Federal verses was Isaac Story, who was born at
Marblehead (the son of the clergyman of tho
same name at that place), August 25, 1774. He
was a graduate of Harvard of 1703, and became
a lawyer at Rutland, Massachusetts. In 1792 he
published at Marblehead An Epistle from Yarico
to Inkle, together with their characters, as related
in the Spectator. This college production is in
verse, in this pathetic appeal : — ■

From the sal place where sorrow ever reigns
And hopeless wretches groan beneath their chains;
Where stern oppression lifts her iron hand
And restless cruelty usurps command, <&c.

In 1800 he delivered a eulogy on Washington at
Sterling, Massachu :etts, where he was then a re-
sident. The next year he appears as a Fourth of
July orator at Worcester. His oration was pub-
lished. He died at the early age of twenty-nine,
while on a vi^it to his father at Marblehead, July
19, 1803. The following obituary from the pen
of his cousin, Judge Joseph Story, appeared in the
Salem Register of July 25.

" At Marblehead, on Tuesday evening last,
Isaac Story, Jr., Esq., of Rutland. A gentleman
well known by numerous productions in polite
literature. In his manners bland, social, and af-
fectionate; in his disposition sportive and con-
vivial; in his morals pure, generous, and unaf-
fected; in his mind vivacious, refined, and face-
tious. After the usual academic course he pursued
the science of Jurisprudence, and gave promise of
an honorable station among advocates. In the
interval of judicial studies he courted the Aonian
Sisters, and occasionally gave to the public spe-
cimens of accomplished composition. Wit and
humor were provinces in which he sought pecu-
liarfavor; though he not unfrequeutly mingled in
his poetic effusions the gravity of sententiousness
with the lighter grace*. But, alas! the wit, the
poet, and the moralist, now exists only in his writ-
ings. Death has consigned him to the common
lot of mortality.

" Spirit of him whose chastened soul

Could touch each chord of pure desire,

Whence, down beyond the mind's control,

Thy brilliant thought, thy Druid fire?

" Lost in thy manhood's chariest bloom,
O'er thee shall pity meekly mourn,
And many a svlph, who haunts the gloom,
With twilight dews besprend thine urn.

" Beside, thine 'airy harp' shall rest,

With wonted char ns unskilled to play,
Or wildly moved in g.ief supprest,
Fling to the breeze its funeral lay.

' Yet may the willow love to bend,

And there the gentler myrtle woo,

While Boftly sighs each passing friend,

Ah! Yoriek, bard of truth, adieu!"

ODE TO POVERTY.

Peter holdeth confab with Poverty — rjiveth her his opinion ,*
asketh questions about Chtiri&y-r-Mndendetiiwith alttU> ang^r
and inconsistency — but still canters in church-measure.

Come, Poverty, with placid hue,
With ragged garments, worn-out shoo ;

Come, hear the jovial Peter!
Thy squalid looks and haggard mien,
Protub'raut bones and eyes scarce seen,

Now swell his solemn metre.

When on he travell'd life's green vale,
Where fickle fancy fan'd his sail,

He thought he ne'er should sorrow ;
But that old Time would constant bring,
From joy's gay source a plenteous spring,

For ev'ry coming morrow.

Thus buoy'd by hope, he turn'd his lyre;
Enjoy'd his friends, indulg'd desire,

And laugh'd at lengthen'd faces;
Pity'd the plodding man of trade ;
The skin-flint miser, moping maid,

And all, who shun'd the Graces.

With careless foot he trip'd the green ;

Each day, each hour, chang'd pleasure's scene,

Nor thought, poor soul, on thee.
Nature has given us plenteous stock,
To keep us from thy stumbling bloek,

And fill our hearts with glee.

In vain you steal our bags of riches,
Thread-bare our elbows, tear our breeches,

Or leave our feet unshod.
With health and virtue on we trudge,
Knowing that all thy tricks arc fudge,

While there exists a God.

Thus thought he, in his youthful days,
And still those thoughts shall swell hi3 l~y3,

And keep his bosom quiet;
For tho' thou com'st, with visage pale,
And drag'st him, tatter'd into jail,

His soul shall breed no riot.

Along life's twisting road we find

Of halt and maim'd, of mad and blind,

Of doleful and of dumb,
A train, both hideous, sal, and poor,"
Seeking each day compassion's door,

While going to kingdom come.

O'er those Compassion sheds a tear,
While pity stops their plaints to hear,

And cures, or mourns their fate;
Yet when we sec thee those infest,
Who are with strength and reason b'.est,

Our minds are fill'd with hate.

Not one decree of Heaven we blame,
But on them cry out " fools ! for shame,

Betake thee unto labour."
Unless by dire misfortune spent,
They are in Law's vile dungeon pent,

To gratify a neighbour.

Then anger and compassion blend,

We damn the wretch, act sorrow's friend

But. like thee ne'er the more;
Rather abominate thy form,
And, as we would fell Winter's storm.

Against thee shut the door.
1794 P. Quince, Esq,

636

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

PETEE 8 ADIEU TO THE CITY.

Beatus ULe, quiprocul negotiis,

Utprisca genu mortalium,
Paterna rura bobus exercet mi:;,

Solutus omnif<jenore. — Horace.

To the City I've bid an adieu !

To its pleasures and parties farewell !
Nor can they entrap me anew ;

Or call me once more from my cell.

I believ'd midst the rich and the great,
Mild contentment and happiness dwelt ;

That they blunted the arrows of fate,
And seldom keen misery felt.

That Time flew with pinions of down,
While Charity brighten'd his way ;

And Peace, on her olive branch crown,
Recorded the deeds of each day.

That Justice, with mercy attir'd,

Heard the cause of the poor and oppress'd;
CheckVl the tongue with malevolence fir'd,

And the wrongs of the feeble redress'd.

The delusion is over and past,

And the tinsel, which misery clad,
Is remov'd by my reason at last.

And I mourn that the world is so bad.

That anguish and want should appear,

Willi gaiety's mantle adorn'd ;
That I language of softness should hear,

From a wretch, whom humanity seorn'd.

That damsels with modest array,

And manners apparently good,
Should trip through the city all day, —

But at night, with fell infamy brood.

The rich meet the rich in the street,

And tho' vices hang thick round their heart,

Shake hands and most courteously greet —
But with plots and contrivances part.

No hand wipes a tear from the eye

Of the widow, or fatherless child;
But all their assistance deny

And laugh to behold them beguil'd.

The good man, by poverty led,

Thro' the city must wander alone ;
With the offals of grandeur be fed,

And to wretchedness open his moan.

The worldlings have virtue forsook ;

To self are their bounties confiu'd ;
While those, who take pride in a crook,

Are patrons and friends to mankind.

O ! nature, thy works I adore ;

The path, thou'st design'd us to tread,
Is stock'd with the richest of love,

With the fairest of roses bespread.

Our wants are both simple and few,

Where virtue and modesty reign ;
But the phantoms of bliss we pursue,

And the counsels of wisdom disdain.

Let me wander my cottage around,
Taste the fruits of labour and care ;

With health, peace, and friendship abound,
And I shall not of pleasure despair.

P. Quince.

LEONARD WOODS.
This distinguished scholar and divine was born at
Princeton, Mass., June 19, 1774. His parents,
Samuel and Abigail Woods, are spoken of as both
possessing strong mental powers, while they were

of " Puritanic piety ;" his father's " habits of seri-
ous thought upon metaphysical subjects having
obtained for him the title of " philosopher Woods."
With small opportunity for cultivation when
young, he became conversant with the mo?t im-
portant histories, with the poetry of Milton,Young,
and Watts ; as also with the works of Locke and
Edwards, and of many of the Puritan divines*
His son Leonard early exhibited a taste for study,
profiting by the instructions of his father and an
elder sister. At six or seven he followed the ex-
ercises of a class of older boys in arithmetic, keep-
ing pace with them on his substitute for a slate,
of a piece of birch bark ; notwithstanding these
signs of talent he might have been confined to the
duties of his father's farm, had not a fit of sick-
ness, which abated his strength, marked him out
for the physically less laborious occupations of the
scholar. His mother assisted this scheme of study,
which he pursued with the village clergyman ; and
in 1792 he entered Harvard, taking his degree in
course in the class with John Pickering, with the
highest honors in 1796. He then was engaged as
a teacher in Medford for eight months, when he
commenced the study of theology with Dr. Charles
Backus at Somers, Ct., continuing his studies at
home with the Bible and Brown's system of divi-
nity for his principal text-books. In 1798, he was
ordained at Newbury as the successor of Dr. Da-
vid Tappan, who had been appointed professor of
Theology at Harvard. He married the next year
Miss Abigail Wheeler, daughter of Joseph Whee-
ler, judge of probate in Worcester. His public
literary reputation dates from the j'ear 1805, when
he contributed a series of papers to the religious
periodical, The JPanoplist, conducted by Dr. Morse
of Charlestown, in defence of the old orthodox
Calvinism, which was then powerfully assailed by
the advocates of the new opinions in vogue at
Cambridge, and elsewhere.t A scheme for an
educational institution "to provide for the church
a learned, orthodox, and pious ministry " now de-
veloped itself, which resulted in the opening of
the Andover Theological Seminary, September
28, 1808, with Mr. Woods in the chair of Christian
Theology — a professorship which he occupied for
thirty-eight years, when he resigned the office in
1846, retaining the rank of Emeritus professor.
He published his lectures, embracing his system
of systematic theology, and a portion of his mis-
cellaneous writings, in a series of his " Works " in
five volumes, in 1849 and '50. The first three
volumes contain one hundred and twenty-eight of
the Andover courses of lectures ; the other two
contain letters, essays, and sermons, including the
controversial letters to Unitarians, an Examination
of the Doctrine of Perfection, a Dissertation on Mi-
racles, a Course of Stud}', Letters to Young Minis-
ters, and Essays on the " Philosophy of the Mind,"
" Cause and Effect in Connexion with Fatalism

* A Discourse (of the biosrraphical portion of which the pre-
sent account is an abstract) delivered at the Funeral of Kev.
Leonard Woods, D.D.. in the Chapel of the Theological Semi-
nary, Andover. Aup-. 28, 1S54. By Edward A. Lawrence, Pro-
fessor in the Theological Seminary. East Windsor Hill. Ct.

t No. 1. of the Panoplist or the Christian's Armory, was
published June, 1805; with vol. xiv. in Jan. 1818. it became
united with the Missionary Herald ; in January 1821, lost its
miscellaneous character, and the publication has since been
well known as the Missionary Herald, the organ of the Ameri-
can Board.

WILLIAM SULLIVAN.

031

and Free Agency," and other metaphysical reli-
gious topics.

His habit of mind in these theological writings
is thus described by his son-in-law, Professor Law-
rence, who lias sketched his moral and intellectual
character with a discriminating pen. " He was
never weary of an old truth because of its age, nor
repelled from a new one because it was new. He
believed in improvements in theologians and theo-
logical science, though not in theological truths.
He regarded these improvements as coming
through much study and prayer, by approxima-
tions of human ideas and human hearts to the re-
vealed standard of doctrine, and the model of the
Christian life. He accepted certain views of pro-
gress ; but his cautious habit led him to take no
step until he was sure that it was not a backward
movement. Much that the world esteems pro-
gress, he counted the reverse. If his caution made
him conservative, his abhorrence of evil made him
also a friend to all. judicious reforms. He' moved
slowly because he moved with care, and with care
that he might move securely and lose no time. If
he seldom had occasion to retract his opinions, it
was from the patient labor and caution with which
he formed them." *

His social disposition, kind and refined, was not
less marked than his zealous adberence to the ad-
vancement of theological education. Dr. Woods
continued to reside at Andover till his death,
which he met with Christian faith and humility,
Aug. 24, 1854, at the advanced age of eighty-one.
Dr. Woods was one of the original promoters of
several of the benevolent associations of his day,
as the American Board of Missions, the American
Tract Society, and the Temperance Society, with
the history of which his name will be commemo-
rated. One of the last works upon which he was
engaged was a History of the Theological Semi-
nary in Andover, which he left nearly completed
in manuscript.

WILLIAM StTLLITAN.
Was born at Saco, in Maine, November 12, 1774.
His father had been Governor of Massachusetts,
his grandfather was an emigrant from Ireland.
He was educated at Harvard, and studied law in
his father's office. The law and politics occupied
his attention till the latter part of his life, when
he devoted himself to literature, and matters of
public welfare. His writings are several dis-
courses, one before the Suffolk liar in 1824 ; before
the Pilgrim Society of Plymouth in 1829; before
the Massachusetts Society for the Suppression of
Intemperance in 1832; his Political Class Boole ;
intended to instruct the higher classes in schools,
in the origin, nature, and use of Political Power,
in 1831- his Moral Class Book, or the Law of
Morals, derived from the created universe, and
from reseale.l religion, in 1833 ; an Historical
Class Book the same year, and its continuation
entitled Historical Causes and Effects, in 1837.
In this year he also published his book entitled,
Sea Life ; or what may, or may not be done, and
what ought to be done by Shipowners, Shipmasters,
Mates, and Seamen, addressed to Father Taylor,
the minister of the Mariner's Church in Boston.

* Discourse, p. 22.

ify^fuMAAj-c^

XAsl-

These were either books for schools, or special
philanthropic topics ; the work of most general
interest which he wrote, is his Familiar Letters
on the Public Men of the Revolution, including
events from the peace of 1783 to the peace of
1815, which first appeared in 1834. It is a
vindication of the Federal Party, and an attack
on the opposition, inspired by the animadversions
of Jefferson in his published memoir and writings,
mingled with personal sketches and criticisms.
He died September 3, 1839, aged sixty-four. Mr.
Sullivan's lift;* has been written by his son, John
T. S. Sullivan. He speaks of the ardor witli which
his father pursued his studies in his last years,
occupying himself from twelve to fourteen hours
daily, and of his saying to a friend who regretted
that he had relinquished the law: "I believe I
mistook, in my selection of. a profession, the
course most favorable to my happiness ; for I
have never been conscious of real enjoyment, or
of the true bent of my talents, if I have any,
until I devoted myself to literature ;" a remark-
able tribute to a life of letters. Another anecdote
of his personal bearing is also given by his son.
" He was six feet tall, very erect, and in his gait
dignified and reserved. No one, saving his own
family, ever approached him familiarly. His
manners were those of the old school, now al-
most extinct, and he could more deeply wound
with a formal bow, than many men, less dignified,
with a blow. He used to say, that deified
civility, based upon self-respect, was a gentle-
man's weapon and defence."

SKETCH OF IIAMILTON — FEOM THE "FAMILIAR I.ETTEES."

_ In 1705, Alexander Hamilton, at the age of thirty-
eight, resumed the practice of law in the city of New
York, and there continued until the close of his life.
In December of that year, his personal appearance
was this : — He was under middle size, thin in person,
but remarkably erect and dignified in his deport-
ment. His bust, seen in so many houses, and the
pictures and prints of him, make known, too gene-

* Prefixed to a new. enlarged, and revised edition of the
Public Men of the Eevolntion. Phila. 1S4T.

638

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

rally, the figure of his face, to make an attempt .nt
description expedient. His hair was turned back
from his forehead, powdered, and collected in a club
behind. His complexion was exceedingly fair, and
varying from this only by the almost feminine
Cosiness of his cheeks. His might be considered, as
to figure and color, an uncommonly handsome face.
"When at rest, it had rather a severe and thoughtful
expression ; but when engaged in conversation, it
easily assumed an attractive smile. He was ex-
pected, one day in December, 17y5, at dinner, and
was the last who came. When he entered the room
it was apparent from the respectful attention of the
company, that he was a distinguished individual.
He was dressed in a blue coat with bright buttons,
the skirts of his coat were unusually long. He
wore a white waistcoat, black silk small clothes,
white silk stockings. The gentleman who received
him as a guest, introduced him to such of the com-
pany as were strangers to him ; to each he made a
formal bow, bending very low, the ceremony of
shaking hands not being observed. The fame of
Hamilton had reached every one who knew any
thing of public men. His appearance and deport-
ment accorded with the dignified distinction to
which he had attained in public opinion. At dinner,
"whenever he engaged in the conversation, every one
listened attentively. His mode of speaking was de-
liberate ami serious; and his voice engagingly plea-
sant. In the evening of the same day lie was in a
mixed assembly of both sexes; and the tranquil re-
serve, noticed at the dinner table, had given place to
a social and playful manner, as though in this he
was alone ambitious to excel.

The eloquence of Hamilton was said to be per-
suasive and commanding; the more likely to be so,
as he had no guide but the impulse of a great and
rich mind, he having had little opportunity to be
trained at the bar, or in popular assemblies. Those
who eould spe:ik of his manner from the best op-
portunities to observe him in public and private,
concurred in pronouncing him a frank, amiable,
high-minded, open-hearted gentleman. He was ca-
pable of inspiring the most affectionate attachment;
but he eould make those whom he opposed, fear and
hate him cordially. He was capable of intense and
effectual application, as is abundantly proved by
his public labours. But he had a rapidity and clear-
ness of perception, in which he may not have been
equalled. One who knew his habits of study, said
of him, that when he had a serious object to ac-
complish, his practice was to reflect on it previously ;
and when he had gone through this labour, he re-
tired to sleep, without regard to the hour of the
night, and having slept six or seven hours, he rose,
and having taken strong coffee, seated himself at his
table, where he would remain six, seven, or eight
hours; and the product of his rapid pen required
little correction for the press. He was av.ong the
few alike excellent, whether in speaking c in writ-
ing. In private and friendly intercourse, he is said
to have been exceedingly amiable, and to have been
affectionately beloved.

ROBERT GOODLOE HARPER.
Robert Goodloe Harpei:, an eminent political
writer and orator of the Federalist school, was
born near Fredericksburg, Virginia, in 1765. He
was the son of poor but respectable parents, who,
during his childhood, removed to Granville, North
Carolina. At the early age of fifteen he served
in a troop of horse, composed of the youth of the
neighborhood, under General Greene during the
closing scenes of the southern campaign of the

Revolution. Ho next entered Princeton College
where, while a student in the upper, he acted as
a tutor to the lower classes, and was graduated in
1785. He about the same time formed a plan,
during a visit at Philadelphia, of making the tour
of Europe on foot. He proposed to commence at
London, supporting himself during his sojourn by
giving lessons and working as a joiner, a trade for
which an early taste for mechanics had fitted him;
The scheme was frustrated by the departure of
the ship, in which he intended to sail, having
been delayed for several weeks by ice in the De-
laware, during which his stock of money and
desire for travel rapidly diminished. As soon as
navigation was open he sailed for Charleston with
the intention of studying law. While standing on
the wharf after his arrival, with only a dollar or
two in his pocket, he was asked by a bystander
whether he had not taught a class in Princeton
of winch a youth, whose name was given, was a
member. Ho replied in the affirmative, and was
informed that this youth was the son of his ques-
tioner, who had become familiar with the teacher
from the letters of the scholar, his son. By the
kindly offices of this friend, who was the keeper
of a tavern, the wants of the new comer were pro-
vided for; and by an introduction to a lawyer, who
received him as a student in his office, his wishes
in reference to a profession realized. He read
with such zeal as to qualify himself for practice
in a year. With a view to speedier advancement
in his profession he removed to the interior of the
state. Here he soon became known by a series
of articles which lie contributed to a newspaper
on a proposed change in the constitution of the
state. He was next elected to the legislature of
the state, and not long after to the national House
of Representatives, where he became a distin-
guished and thorough supporter of the adminis-
trations of Washington and Adams. After the
election of Jefferson lie retired from Congress, and
in consequence of his marriage with the daughter
of Charles Carroll, removed to Maryland and
commenced the practice of the law at Baltimore.
He was employed with Joseph Ilopkinson as
counsel for Judge Chase of the Supreme Court of
the United Slates, in the trial which resulted in
the acquittal of that officer on all the charges for
which he was impeached. He was elected by his
adopted state to the Senate of the United States.
At a dinner given at Georgetown, June 5, 1813,
in honor of the recent Russian victories, he gave
as a toast " Alexander the Deliverer," and fol-
lowed with a speech highly eulogistic of that mo-
narch, and of the power, prosperity, and progress
of his dominions. The address contains an elabo-
rate account of the invasion of Napoleon, attri-
butes its failure to the military skill of the Rus-
sians as well as the severity of the winter, and
congratulates the United States on this result as
lessening the preponderating power of France and
frustrating the designs which he charges her with,
of attempting the conquest of Canada from the
English. On the publication of this production
Robert Walsh addressed the author a letter in
which, after complimenting him as the originator
of the phrase of " Alexander the Deliverer," the
opinion is expressed that the oration underrates
the military character of Napoleon, eulogizes the
Russians unduly, and does not perceive the dan-

ROBERT GOODLOE HARPER.

639

gers of Rusaian ascendency. Harper made an
elaborate reply, and Walsh responded with a se-
cond letter, after which the speech with the cor-
respondence was published in a volume.

Towards the close of his life Harper became an
active member of the American Colonization So-
ciety, a scheme in which he took a deep interest,
not only on national grounds but from his fondness
for the-study of the geography of Africa. A long
and valuable letter from his pen on the subject
appeared in the first Report of the Association in
1818. On the fifteenth of January, 1825, while
reading his newspaper after breakfast, he fell, was
caught in the arms of his son, and a few minutes
after died of a disease of the heart.

lie published at various periods a number of
speeches and addresses on the politics of the day.
His Select Works, consisting of Speeches on Poli-
tical and Forensic Subjects, with the Answer
drawn up by him to the articles of impeachment
against Judge Chase and sundry political tracts,
collated from the original publications and care-
fully reoised, vol. i., appeared in Baltimore in
1814. it opens with an Address to his constitu-
ents, dated December 17, 1795, on the Treaty of
November, 179-4, in which he gives his reasons for
advocating the measure, and pays an eloquent tri-
bute to John Jay.

But, fellow-citizens, let me ask you, and let me
appeal to your cahu dispassionate judgment for an
answer, let me ask you, can these frigntful events,
these destructive consequences be justly apprehended
from a treaty, the whole commercial part of which
is to expire at the end of twelve years, and may be
terminated by ourselves within two years after the
close of the present war? Can any possible opera-
tion of a treaty, admitting it to be a disadvantageous,
an unwise one, so soon destroy, so speedily ruin, or
even in so short a period materially injure the agri-
culture, the manufactures, the commerce of Ame-
rica, which during the present universal shock in
Europe, and under the depredations of all parties,
have flourished and increased beyond all former
example? 1 confess I cannot conceive it.

Let me further ask you, fellow-citizens, what rea-
sons there are to believe that Mr. Jay would con-
clude, Major Pinckney approve, two thirds of the
Senate sanction, and the President finally ratify a
treaty, " degrading to the national honour, and dan-
gerous to the political existence of the United
States;" a treaty containing "a prostitution of their
sovereignty, and a wanton sacrifice of their rights ;"
a treaty which " admits another government to con-
trol the legislative functions of the Union," "prosti-
tutes the dearest rights of freemen, and lays tliem
prostrate at the feet of royalty ?"

Mr. Jay had a reputation to support, a reputation
gained by a long and active public life; would he
blast it at once? He has a family growing up
around him; would he throw a gloom over all their
opening prospects, and nip the bud of their pros-
perity, by an act which must involve himself and
them in one common disgrace ? He held a distin-
guished office, from which the voice of his country
might remove him ; would he raise the voice of that
country against him, by " prostituting its sove-
reignty, and making a wanton sacrifice of its rights?"
At the time when lie agreed to this treaty, at the
time when he dispatched it to the United States, at
the time when without unforeseen and accidental
delays it must have arrived and been made public,
at that time he was a candidate for an high office in

his own state, to which he could be raised only by
the approbation of his fellow-citizens at large; would
he ensure their disapprobation by betraying their
dearest interests ? He was opposed by a numerous
and powerful party, by a popular and respectable
competitor; would he furnish this opposition with
irresistible arms against himself, by a.i act which
must have drawn on him the public execration ?
He is said to be a candidate for the highest trust his
country can bestow, a candidate in opposition to
men distinguished throughout Europe as wed as
America, for their talents and their virtues ; would
he for ever blast whatever prospects he may have, by
agreeing to " admit another government to control
the legislative functions of his country?" No, fellow-
citizens! The stations w.iieh Mr. Jay has filled, the
long period for which he has enjoyed a spotless repu-
tation and possessed the confidence of his country,
argue at least a common portion of talents and inte-
grity ; and a man must be depraved and foolish to
an unusual degree, who, situated as Mr. Jay was,
could consent to so atrocious an act as the treaty is
represented : could consent to " degrade the national
honour, endanger the political existence, and destroy
the agricultural, manufacturing, commercial, and
shipping interests" of his country : foolish if he could
consent to it without seeii.g its tendency, and both
foolish and depraved if he saw it and yet consented.

"We have next Observations on the Dispute be-
tween the United States and France, addressed to
Ms constituents and published in 1797; followed
by a speech on the necessity of resisting the ag-
gressions and encroachments of France on the
Constitutional powers of the President and Senate
in the appointment of foreign ministers ; an argu-
ment in the case of William Blount's Impeachment
on the question whether a Senator of the United
States be liable to impeachment, delivered Janu-
ary 5, 1799 ; a letterdated March 5, 1800, enume-
rating the services of the Federal party to the
United States; a speech in favor of a bill to pre-
vent "unauthorized correspondence with any fo-
reign government, with intent to influence its
conduct towards the United States, or to defeat
the measures of our own government," in which
he comments with severity on Mr. Gallatin. The
volume closes with a speech in favor of the con-
tinuance of the Sedition Law, delivered January
1, 1801, in which he advocates his views with
eloquence.

We are called on, sir, for the reasons why this act
shoidd now be continued. I will give my reasons
most freely. Whether they be the same with those
which actuate the conduct of other gentlemen, I
know not, but in my mind they deserve all consi-
deration. I wish to revive this law, sir, as a shield
for the liberty of the press, and the freedom of opi-
j nion ; as a protection to myself, and those with whom
I have the happiness and the honor to think on pub-
i lie affairs, should we at any future time be com-
pelled by the imbecility or the mistakes of any future
administration in this country, to commence an op-
position against it: not a factious, profligate, and
; unprincipled opposition, founded on falsehood and
j misrepresentation, and catching at the passions and
the prejudices of the moment ; but a manly, dignified,
candid, and patriotic opposition, addressed to the
good sense and virtue of the nation, and resting on
| the basis of argument and truth. Should that time
j ever arrive, as it may arrive, though I earnestly pray
I that it may not, I wish to have this law, which
I allows the truth to be given in cvideuce on indict-

610

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

ments for libels, I ■wish to have this law as a shield.
When indicted myself, for calmly and candidly ex-
posing the errors of government, and the incapacity
of those who govern, I wish to be enabled, by this
law, to go before a jury of my country, and say that
what I have written is true. I wish to interpose
this law between the freedom of discussion, and the
overbearing sway of that tyrannical spirit, by which
a certain political party in this country is actuated ;
that spirit which arrogating to itself to speak in the
name of the people, like fanaticism arrogating to it-
self to speak in the name of God, knows neither mo-
deration, mercy, nor justice; regards neither feeling,
principle, nor right, and sweeps down with relentless
fury, all that dares to detect its follies, oppose its
progress, or resist its domination. It is my know-
ledge of this spirit, sir, of its frantic excesses, its un-
feeling tyranny, and its intolerable revenge, that
makes me anxious to raise this one mound between
its fury and public liberty ; to put into the hands of
free discussion, one shield against its darts. This
shield, I have little doubt, will at length, and per-
haps very soon, be torn away ; for the spirit of
which I speak, goaded by conscious inferiority, sti-
mulated to madness by the envy of superior talents,
reputation, and virtue, knows to brook no check
upon its power, no censure upon its excesses. Cut I
will not sanction my own death by my own voice.
I will not yield one barrier to freedom and the right
to opinion, while I can defend it. I regard this law
as such a barrier; feeble, perhaps, and ineffectual to
check the progress of that tyrannical spirit, which
even now can scarce restrain its rage ; but though
feeble yet dear to freedom, and never to be aban-
doned by freedom's friends. And in order to keep up
this barrier to the last, I shall now, while I may,
vote for the continuance of that law, which mitigates
the rigor of the common law in this respect, and pro-
tects the liberty of the press and of opinion, by en-
acting that the truth may be given in evidence, on
indictments for libels against the government.

Mr. Harper was much esteemed for his moral
worth, his readiness to aid his friends, his cheer-
fulness and geniality. His conversational powers
were as marked as his ease and freedom in public
discourse, and his society was, on this account,
much sought after. The hospitalities of his man-
sion were ample, and its charities free and liberal.
In person he was tall and well proportioned, and
his health, until within two or three years of his
death, when his constitution was much injured by
an attack of bilious fever, excellent. .

MATIIEW CAEET.
Matttew Carey, a voluminous political writer
and extensive publisher, was born in Dublin, Ire-
land, January 28, 1760. His father, a baker who
had accumulated a handsome fortune by the suc-
cessful prosecution of his trade, bestowed upon
his five sons a liberal education. Mathew evinced
at an early age an aptitude fur the study of lan-
guages, but made little progress in mathematics.
At the age of fifteen he chose the business of
printer and bookseller as his future calling against
the wishes of his father, who offered him the
choice of any of twenty-five other trades. At
the age of seventeen he commenced his career as
an author by the publication of an essay on Duel-
ling in the Hibernian Gazette. In 1779 he pub-
lished a pamphlet on the oppression of the Irish
Catholics by the penal code, the advertisement of
which was so emphatically worded as to attract

the attention of the Irish Parliament. The pub-
lication was suppressed, and the author would
have been prosecuted had he not after a few
days' concealment been sent to Paris by his
friends. Here he became acquainted with Dr.
Franklin, who gave him employment at his print-
ing-office at Passy. At the end of a year he re-
turned unmolested, and was engaged as the con-
ductor of a paper called the Freeman's Journal.
On the 13th of October, 1783, he published the
first number of a paper of his own, the Volun-
teer's Journal, the means for the enterprise hav-
ing been furnished by his father. It soon had a
larger circulation than any newspaper but one in
Dublin, and was largely instrumental in forward-
ing the plans of the Irish Volunteers. It was not
long suffered to escape the attention of the govern-
ment. An attack on the parliament and premier
in the number of April 5, 1784, was followed by
an indictment for libel. He was brought before
the House of Commons on the 19th of April, and
imprisoned by the sentence of that body in New-
gate, where he "lived joyously — companies of
gentlemen occasionally dining with him on the
choicest luxuries the markets could afford," until
the 14th of May, when the authority of Parlia-
ment to imprison terminating with their adjourn-
ment, he was liberated by the Lord Mayor. A
prosecution for the libel on the premier was,
however, still hanging over his head, and as his
funds had been nearly exhausted in the establish-
ment of his newspaper, the fine consequent on a
conviction would have heavil}- embarrassed him.
By the advice of his friends he again withdrew
from the country, and embarked in female dress
on board a vessel for Philadelphia, his choice of
that city having been determined by reading an
account of his own trial in one of its newspapers.
The account would, he thought, make him known
and secure him friends. After having been run
ashore by a drunken pilot in ascending the Dela-
ware, the ship landed her passengers, November
1, 1784. It happened that a fellow-passenger, by
the name of Wallace, brought with him a letter
to General Washington. Presenting himself at
Mount Vernon, he found Lafayette making his
farewell visit. The Marquis, who had read the
account of Carey in the Philadelphia papers, in-
quired what had become of him, and was informed
of his arrival. A short time after Lafayette visit-
ed Philadelphia, sent for Carey, and learning that
he was desirous to establish a newspaper, pro-
mised to recommend him to Robert Morri-i and
other influential men. The next morning Carey
received a letter from the General inclosing
§400, a sum which he had the satisfaction of re-
paving on the General's visit to the countrv in
1824. On the 25th of the following January he
issued the first number of the Pennsylvania He-
rald. It soon obtained a reputation by its publi-
cation of the debates of the House of Assembly,
reported by the editor, as well as by its spirited
conduct, which, in the same year, involved its
conductor in a controversy with Colonel Oswald,
the editor of a journal supported by the Repub-
lican or democratic party, leading to a duel in
which Carey was wounded a little above the knee,
an injury from which he suffered for more than
a year. In October, 1786, he commenced, with
several partners, the publication of the Colum-

HATHEW CAREY.

641

bian Magazine, a monthly. The associates dis-
agreeing he withdrew in December,. and in the
next January commenced the American Museum,
a monthly magazine, intended, as he informs us,
" to pre-erve the valuable fugitive essays that ap-
peared in the newspapers." It was continued
with very indifferent success, but with marked
ability, for six years. The volumes contain a
greater mass of interesting and valuable literary
and historical matter, than is to be found in any
other of our early American magazines. In 1791
lie married Miss B. Flahavan. On the discon-
tinuance of the Museum he commenced business
as a bookseller on an humble scale, a large por-
tion of his stock consisting of spelling-books. He
was present, he informs us, for twenty-five years
at the opening of his store, and uniting enterprise
with thrift, established one of the most important
publishing houses in the Union. In 1793; during
the prevalence of the yellow fever, he was an ac-
tive member of the Committee of Health, and by
his personal observation, in visiting and attending
the sick, accumulated a quantity of information,
which he collected in a large pamphlet, on the
rise, progress, effects, ami termination of the dis-
ease, of which four editions were sold. He was,
in the same year, the founder of the Hibernian
Society for the relief of emigrants from Ireland ;
and in 1796 united with some half dozen citizens,
under the lead of Bishop White, in the formation
of the first Sunday-school society in the United
States. He became about the same time involved
in a controversy with William Cobbett. In 1802
he issued an edition in quarto of the Bible, called
the standing edition, from the circumstance of
the entire volume being kept in type to supply
the demand for re-impressions. With the excep-
tion of Luther's Bible, the type of which is said
to have been left standing for over a century, this
is believed to have been the first edition of the
Holy Scriptures thus issued. The invention of
stereotyping soon after obviated the necessity of
so costly an expedient. On the first of June of
the same year the booksellers and printers of the
Union met in New York, at the suggestion of Mr.
Carey, under whose guidance an association simi-
lar to the Book Fairs of Germany was formed,
under the presidency of their oldest associate,
Hugh Gaine. The plan did not work well, and
after four or five years was abandoned, its place
being subsequently occupied by the Trade Sales.
In 1806, while a member of the Select Council of
Philadelphia, Mr. Carey published a pamphlet in
favor of subjecting personal property to taxation
as well as real estate. An ordinance to effect
this object was passed by the Select but rejected
by the Common Council of the city. In 1810 he
again appeared before the public, in opposition to
the party with which he was connected, as an
advocate for the renewal of the charter of the
United States Bank. He conducted his share of
the controversy with great energy, writing fre-
quent articles in the newspapers, and publishing
pamphlets also of his own composition, which he
distributed at his own expense. In 1814 he pub-
lished the Olive Branch, a work designed to har-
monize the two furiously antagonistic parties of
the country. Ten editions were exhausted, form-
ing in all ten thousand copies, an immense sale
for that period. Its influence was as extensive as
vol. t. — 41

its circulation, and it probably contributed in no
slight degree towards that political repose which
marked the administration of Monroe.

In 1817 the agitation of Catholic emancipation
in Ireland urged Carey to the prosecution of a
design which he had long had in contemplation.
He was still further excited by the publication of
Godwin's novel of Mandeville, presenting in pow-
erful colors a view which he considered unjust of
the Irish insurrection of 1641. In consequence
of this he set to work to prepare an account of
his native country which should expose the errors
and misstatements of English historians. He
made a large collection of materials, and planned
his work with great deliberation, but sent his
manuscript as fast as each day's work was com-
pleted to the printer, so that it was in type al-
most as soon as written. It appeared under the
title of Vindieim Hibernicce in 1818, with such
success that four editions were called for.

Mr. Carey shortly after became a warm advo-
cate of a protective tariff. He published from
1819 to 1833 no less than fifty-nine separate pam-
phlets on this subject, amounting to twenty-three
hundred and twenty-two pages. Many of these
passed through several editions, were reprinted
in newspapers, and regarded as authoritative ami
valuable exponents of the views they advocated.
In addition to these publications Mr. Carey was
a frequent advocate in the newspapers of the
same opinions. In 1833 and '4 he contributed to
the New England Magazine his Autobiography,
in an extended and somewhat desultory series of
articles.

In addition to these literary labors and those
connected with his extensive business relations,
Mr. Carey was an active advocate of the internal
improvements of his city and state, especially of
the construction of the Chesapeake and Delaware
canal. He was throughout his life a benevolent
man, and towards its close his attention was
chiefly devoted to the relief of the many who
sought his aid in the furtherance of associations of

642

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

benevolence. He died in the eity with which he
had so long and so honorably identified his inte-
rests on the 16th of September, 1839. '

WILLIAM MUXFORD.

William MuSfo'bd w.-is born in Mecklenburg
county, Virginia, August 15, 1775. His father,
Col. Robert Munford, a distinguished patriot of
the Revolution, was the author of two dramatic
compositions, entitled " The Candidate" and " The
Patriots," illustrating the political corruption of
his day, which, with some minor poems, were
published at Petersburg, Va., in 1798.*

The son, early left by his father's death in the
charge of his mother, a lady of superior accom-
plishments, was educated at "William and Mary,
where he was the pupil of the eminent George
Wythe, from whom he derived a taste for classical
literature, which accompanied him through life.
Having further studied law with Wythe, at the
early age of twenty-one, in 1797, he was elected
to the House of Delegates from his native county,
and after a service of four years was chosen a
senator from the district. In that body he also
served a term of four years, and, at the end of
that period was elected a member of the Privy
Council of State, when he changed his residence
to Richmond. He continued in the Council
until the year 1811, when he received the honor-
able and lucrative appointment of Clerk of the
House of Delegates, an office which lie held till
his death. Besides the faithful discharge, of these
public trusts, he reported for several years the
decisions of the Supreme Court of Appeals in
Virginia, of which four volumes, from 1806 to
1809, were prepared in conjunction with William
W. Hening, and six, from 1810 to 1820, were
from his own pen. He was likewise one of -the
chosen assistants of Benjamin Watkins Leigh, in
the revision of the Virginia Statute Laws in
1819.

His literary productions were, an early volume
of Poems and Compositions in Prose on Several
Occasions, published at Richmond in 1798, which
includes a tragedy, "Almoran and Hamet," se-
veral versifications of Ossian, translations from
Horace, and a number of occasional poems,
patriotic and satirical. As juvenile verses they
show some crudity, while the selection of subjects
is creditable to the tastes of the writer. In 1806,
he delivered in the capitol at Richmond, a fune-
ral eulogium on his venerable friend Chancellor
Wythe.t His chief literary work, to which he
gave the leisure of his life, was his translation of
the Iliad of Homer into blank verse, which he com-
pleted, but which was not published till after his
death. \ It is sometimes a spirited, generally a cor-
rect, and throughout a pains-taking version; if
lacking in that poetic gusto which is requisite to
reproduce the rare qualities of the original, it is
at least an honorable addition to a life of profes-
sional occupation, and may be read with satisfac-
tion. At the time of undertaking it, the author
tells us, he had not seen the translation in similar
measure by Cowper. On its publication, it had

* Griswold's Poets of Amcrca, p. 8.
t Sandufsbn's Lives of the Signers, it 17G.
% Homer's Iliad : translated by William Munford. 2 vols.
8vu. Boston : Litt'.o & Brown. 1S46.

the fortune to be reviewed by Felton in the
North American Review, by C. A. Bristed in
the American Whig Review, and by the Rev. N.
L. Frothingham in the Christian Examiner,*
with various degrees of favor ; and the articles
contain besides much interesting information,
in the comparison of the work of different trans-
lators.

Munford died at his residence in Richmond,
June 21, 1825.

THE GODS MINGLING IN THE BATTLE — FROM THE TWENTIETH
BOOK OF THE ILIAD.

They, with minds
Discordant, hasten'd to the scene of strife;
Juno and Pallas to Achaia's fleet,
With Neptune, girder of the spacious globe,
Hermes, benevolent and wise, of arts
Inventor, Vulcan, terrible in strength,
Rolling dread threatening eyes, but lame of foot,
And dragging after him distorted limbs ;
But, to the host of Troy, Mars, rapidly
His crested helmet shaking, Phoebus, bright,
With locks unshorn, Diana, glorying
In bows and arrows keen ; Latona fair,
Their honor'd mother ; Nanthus, river god,
And lovely Venus queen of heavenly smiles.
While yet the gods from men apart remain,
The Greeks exult with joy unlimited,
That great Achilles in their van appears,
Achilles, absent long from horrid tight!
Wot so the Trojans, they cold tremor felt
In every limb ; for, terror-struck, they saw
The swift Pelides, blazing in his arms,
Dreadful as Mars, the bane of human kind !
But when the gods, among the throng of men
Embattled, came, then raging Discord rose,
Rousing the nations. Fierce Minerva, then,
Shouted terrific ; now beside the fosse
Fronting the wall, now near the sounding shore
She stood, and rais'd her loud tremendous voice.
This awful shout. Mars, opposite, return'd,
Terrific as a roaring midnight storm,
From Ilion's towery height, with outcry shrill.
The Trojan host encouraging, and thence
Flying to Simois, and the beauteous mount
Callicolone. Thus the blessed gods,
Exciting Troy and Greece, both armies urg'd
To fell contention ; and, with horrid shock,
They rush'd against each other. Dread, above,
Thunder'd the awful sire of men and gods!
Beneath, stern Neptune shook the boundless earth,
And bent the summits of her highest hills ;
Huge Ida's deep foundations, and her cliffs,
Sources of many rolling rivers, all
Were shaken, with the Trojan city, too,
And navy of the Greeks. The king of shades,
Tremendous Pluto, in the nether realm,
That dire concussion felt, and from his throne
Affrighted leap'd, and gave a fearful cry;
Lest he that shakes the solid globe should rei.d
Its mighty mass asunder, and, to sight
Of mortals and immortals, open lay
The dark abodes of terror, loathsome, foul,
Which e'en the gods themselves with horror view.
Such was the wild commotion, when the gods
That conflict join'd ; for radiant Phcebus, arm'd
With winged arrows, ocean's king oppos'd,
And sage Minerva strove with furious Mars ;
The golden-quiver'd huntress with bent bow,
And echoing horn, rousing the woodlands wide,
Diana, sister of the god of day,

* Si A. Eev., No. 132. Whig Ecview, Oct. 1S46. Chris.
Ex., Sip. 1846.

PAUL ALLEN.

643

Defied imperial Juno ; Hermes, sire
Of useful arts, benignant friend to man,
Against Latona warr'd ; and Vulcan's strength
The mighty river, foaming, deep, and swift,
Resisted ; Xanthus, by immortals nam'd,
By mortals call'd Scamander. Thus oppos'd,
Gods against gods, were mingled in the fray.

PAUL ALLEN.

Paul Allen was born at Providence, R. I., on the
fifteenth day of February, 1775. Soon after the
completion of his education at Brown University,
in 1796, he removed to Philadelphia, where he
became a contributor to the Port Folio and the
United States Gazette. In 1801, he published
a small volume, Original Poems, Serious and
Entertaining (printed by Joshua Gushing, Sa-
lem). He also prepared for the press by re-writ-
ing the Journal of Lewis and Clark's Expedition.
He seems to have been more conscientious in this
performance underthe names of others than under
his own, as he about the same time issued pro-
posals for a Life of Washington, and received a
large number of subscribers, without having writ-
ten a line, or made the least preparatory study for
the work. It was promised season after season,
while the author still neglected to put pen to pa-
per, or consult a single volume in fulfilment of
his contract.

After the publication of Lewis and Clark's Tra-
vel-, he was engaged as an editor of the Federal
Republican newspaper ; but a disagreement with
his associates led to a separation, which was fol-
lowed by a period of mental hallucination and
poverty so extreme that he was imprisoned for a
debt of thirty dollars.

His friends rallied to his aid and started a pa-
per, the "Journal of the Times," for the sake of
giving him an editorial chair. The project was
unsuccessful, but a second attempt at Baltimore,
the Morning Chronicle, secured him a support by
its wide circulation. It was then resolved to bring
out the long promised life of Washington. It was
written by Meal and Watkins, and appeared under
the name of Allen, who wrote a page or two
of the preface, in two volumes, in 1821.

John Neal did his friend another equally good
service, by reducing his poem of Noah, it having
been submitted to his revision, to one fifthlof its
original dimensions. As this fifth, which was
published in 1821, contains five cantos, and would
be improved by a second reduction, the poem in
its primeval proportions must have been peculiar-
ly suggestive in quality and quantity, as well as
title, of the event it celebrates. It began with the
small drop of " a little sonnet addressed to a
dove," which it was the author's " first impres-
sion," as he naively states in his preface, " would
comprehend and exhaust all that he should have
to say upon the subject."

The poem as published commences, whether
owing to Mr. Neul's clippings we know not, with
the sending forth of the Raven. The other events

of the Bible, narrative follow in due sequence ;
but an episode occupying the fourth canto is in-
troduced, directed against the disbelievers in the
unity of the race.

The author claims the merit of simplicity in his
preface, and is fairly entitled to do so. The gene-
ral course of the verse is pleasing, and we occa-
sionally meet with happy lines like this —

And each loud rain-drop beats a funeral knell.

His description of the exodus of the animals from
the Ark is spirited, but contains occasional cou-
plets, which, however true to nature, have slight
connexion with poetry.
The Elephant.

What venturous son of Adam dares oppose,
That might3' arm projecting from his nose?
The Hyena.

Take warning from the brutes, behold they stir,
And gaze and tremble at that shining fur.
The Dog.

Come, let thy social tail express to all
Thy heartfelt raptures at thy master's calL

The career of the offspring of Japhet, by which
the author represents his own countrymen, is one
of the best passages in the Poem. It is followed
by a contest between the lion and eagle, British
and American. The former, to Noah's dismay,
attacks Japhet's son, and the latter thus comes to
the rescue.

He prayed, then paused, and lo! the Zodiac rings
With the loud clangor of descending wings !
The clouds disperse, and now by heavenly grace,
An Eagle, soaring in his pride of place,
Was seen, the head of Japheth hovering o'er;

J A thunderbolt the pluming stranger bore —
The .Patriarch shuddered at the dreadful sight.
He gazed again, and oh ! with what delight,

| He saw that harbinger of peace serene,
The smiling olive — with its leaf of green ,
Bright o'er his wings, and in a ground of blue,
A constellation broke on Noah's view :

! He knelt with lowly reverence on the ground,
And thirteen stars were seen to sparkle round ;

i The lion saw the shining guard display,
Their lances beaming in the blaze of day:
Back o'er the wave he fled, that very hour,
And left the child that he would fain devour.

Allen remained editor of the Chronicle until his
death in 1826.

THE CHILD OF JAPHET.

A boy the wondering Patriarch next descried,
Serene in youthful beauty by his side,
He saw each gentle smile, each budding grace,
That bloomed more largely in his Japheth's face.
The form, the air, the features, well he knew,
His bounding heart proclaimed the vision true.

Onward he passed— and Noah saw with fear,
A child so young had no kind parent near,
Alas, who knows what terrors may await!
What dangers threat his unprotected state.
Shield him, ye angels! for his fate is hard,
Be thou, blest Providence, the pilgrim's guard 1

The Patriarch now beheld this little child
Abandoned to a vast.and gloomy wild —
Here savage beasts were howling round for prey,
Here savage man was seen, more fierce than thcv.
Through the dark tangled thickets, Noah spies
The cruel glances of ferocious eyes,

6U

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

The frown of scorn, contortions strange and wild,
All beut intensely on this wandering child.

Onward lie passed, his nerves no danger shook,
He cast to heaven, a calm confiding look,
The selfsame quiet gaze an infant shows,
Who, when surrounded by a thousand foes,
Casts but an eye, and sees a parent near,
Then forward moves insensible to fear!
For well he knows, that steadfast eye surveys
Each feeble tottering footstep, as he strays;
He knows that voice, with tenderness replete,
Will oft reprove the errors of his feet:
Secure and anxious never to offend
His kind protecting father and his friend,
The boy sees only, in the hour of harm.
Outstretched salvation in that powerful arm.

And thus did Japheth in the hour of care
Rely on heaven, for all his strength was there.
He passed, protected by an holy spell,
Down at his feet the swift winged arrows fell.

Onward he passed — the hostile tribes dismayed,
To see an infant without human aid
Defy their vengeance — felt a sacred awe,
Astonished at the prodigy they saw.
A power, superior far to mortal arts,
Wrought such unnatural terror in their hearts,
In deep astonishment they now began
To think the wondrous stranger more than man.

Onward he passed — and now with wild surprise.
The savage man and beast before him flies ;
Howling with dread they sought the forest shade,
Warned by the beam that round his temples played :
"No eye of hostile vengeance could endure
The light of innocence, so calm, so pure.

Onward he passed — through perils how severe ;
The giant forests bowed as lie drew near,
Prostrated all their honours, and expressed
Their reverence for so wonderful a guest.
Where'er he trod, as by divine command,
His footsteps in this dark and howling land,
Betokened life, and joy, and light serene,
All gay with flowers, or bright with cheerful green.
Thus when the storms of winter pass away,
Succeeded by the blj'thesome vernal day :
A fairy spirit wanders, none can see;
So light, so thin, so delicate is she.
She rides the wandering zephyr, as he roves
Through garden walks, or more majestic groves,
Touches the withered herb — 'tis decked in bloom,
She breathes — the floweret catches the perfume;
She speaks, and joy, and mirth, and transport now,
In spangled plumes are seen on every bough ;
In every place, the welcome stranger meets
A breathing gratitude of varied sweets.

Onward did Japheth pass, where savage men,
And savage beasts had shared one common den ;
The lofty turrets and the sacred spires
Held glittering parlance with the solar fires,
And forms of female innocence were seen,
Beside the cottage, all embowered in green,
Teaching the devious needle as it strays,
To lead the snowy thread through every maze ;
While others taught the embryo flowers to bloom,
Or sung to the sweet labours of the loom.

Onward he passed, his visage shone so clear,
That mountains, rivers, inland seas appear;
And as the wondrous infant nearer drew,
They stood unveiled to Noah's ravished view ;
Mountains, whose shade expanding in the ray,
Seemed sable blots upon the face of day.
As if they strove in all their pride of height
To measure shadows with the solar light;

Rivers, still rushing with resistless force,

Afar those shining serpents, wound their course,

Far even as prophetic eye could strain,

And sought in sweeping majesty the maiji —

Through forests deep, o'er meads, and down the vales,

The Patriarch saw the glitter of their scales;

Seas, inland seas, that chafing with disdain,

At such seclusion from the parent main — •

Like fierce imprisoned spirits rave and roar,

And strive to burst the bondage of the shore.

LYMAN BEECnEK.
Lyman Beeoiiek, a divine, who recalls by his
vigor and activity through a long life the remem-
brance of the best days of the New England pul-
pit, was born at New Haven, Connecticut, Sep-
tember 12, 1775. He was educated at Yule,
pursued theology under the supervision of Presi-
dent Bwight, was ordained and settled at East
Hampton, Long Island, in 1798. In 1810, he
removed to Litchfield, Conn., where lie remained
actively engaged, in addition to his parochial
duties, in the foundation of the Connecticut Mis-
sionary, the Education, the Bible, and other
societies formed for the advancement of the Chris-
tian cause, until 1826, when he accepted a call to
the Hanover Street Church, where he continued
until 1832, becoming the President of the Lane
Theological Seminary, Cincinnati. He resigned
this office in 1842, and returned to Boston, where
he still resides. His chief publications consist of
sermons and addresses, and a work on Political
Atheism. A collection of his writings, in four
compact duodecimo volumes, was made in Bos-
ton in 1852.

The energy and activity which have charac-
terized every stage of I'r. Beecher's long, useful,
and laborious career, have descended in unim-
paired vigor to his children. Of his four sons,
all eminent in the ministry, one — Charles Beecher
— has published a popular volume, The Incarna-
tion ; or, Pictures of the Virgin and her Son.
Another brother, Edward, has written a duodeci-
mo volume on Baptism, its Import and Modes;
anil an ingenious work, entitled The Conflict pf
Ages, in which he maintains a theory, referring
the origin of evil to a supposed existence of the pro-
genitors of the human race prior to Adam ; and
a third, Henry Ward Beecher, is one of the most
popular speakers of the day. His sermons attract
an audience, Sunday after Sunday, sufficient to
crowd the large place of worship in Brooklyn, of
which he is pa-tor ; and he is equally favored in
his frequent appearances as a lecturer on topics
of the day.

Tire daughters of Dr. Beecher contribute their
full share to the general activity of the family.
Miss Catharine Beecher is the author of Domestic
Service; the Duty of American Women to their
Country ; Housekeeper's Beccipt-Boolc ; Moral In-
structor ; The True Remedy for the Wrongs of
Woman, with a History of an Enterprise having
that for its object ; Treatise on Domestic Economy ;
and Truth Stranger than Fiction, a vigorous
denunciation of the alleged flirtations of young
divinity students. These volumes are of small
compass, and designed for wide popular influ-
ence.

Of the other sister, Mrs. Stowe, we shall have
occasion to speak at a later period.

JOHN HENRY HOBART.

645

"The Beecher family," remarks a writer in the
North American Review,* " almost constitute a
genus by themselves. The same t3'pe of mind
and style is reproduced in the writings of the
venerable father and of his singularly gifted chil-
dren, though stiffening into a certain solemn
stateline -s in the author of The Conflict of Ages,
and in Henry Ward trenching close upon the
dividing line between licit humor and lithe buf-
foonery. The father, in his palmy days, was un-
equalled among living divines for dialectic keen-
ness, scathing invective, pungent appeal, lambent
wit, hardy vigor of thought, and concentrated
power of expression ; but he always fumbled over
an extra-Scriptural metaphor, and exhibited little
beauty except that of strength and holiness, — a
beauty which never shone from him so resplen-
dently as now, that, on the verge of fourscore, it
hallows the sunset of as noble a life as man ever
led, and presages the dawning of a renewed
youth in a more exalted sphere of the Divine
service."

JOHN HENEY HOBAET.
Jonx Henry Hobart, a descendant from Joshua
Hobart, one of the early settlers of Ma-sachusetts
Bay, was born in Philadelphia, September 14,
1775. He was prepared for college in the Protes-
tant Episcopal Academy of that city, under the
charge of the Rev. Dr. Andrews, afterwards
Provost of the University, and was graduated from
Princeton College in 17U3. He was then induced
to engage in mercantile pursuits, a mode of life
which he abandoned after a brief trial, for the
ministry. While engaged in Ms preparatory
studies he received and accepted the appointment
of tutor in Princeton College, which he retained
until his ordination by Bishop White, in June,
1798. He commenced his clerical labors by
taking charge of two country parishes, Trinity,
Oxford, and All Saints', Pequestan. In the fol-
lowing year he accepted a call to New Brunswick,
but preferring the quiet of a country parish,
removed to Hempstead, Long Island. During his
ministry at this place, he married a daughter of
the Rev. Dr. Chandler, the learned and zealous
defender of Episcopacy in the controversy on that
subject before the Revolution. In Docemberof the
same year, he became assistant minister of Trinity
Church, New York, where be *o;>n attained a
high rank as an eloquent preacher. In 1804, lie
published a small devotional volume, The Com-
panion for the Altar. It was followed by the
Companion to the Booh of Common Prayer, and
in 1807 by his Apology for Apostolic Order, a
work designed as a reply to the strictures of the
Rev. John M. Mason on Episcopacy in the
Christian Magaziue. In 1808, he commenced a
monthly periodical, The Churchman's Magazine.
In May, 1811, he was elected Assistant Bishop of
New York, the Bishop, Dr. Moore, being incapa-
citated by age for the performance of official duty.
One of the earliest acts of his Episcopate was to
urge upon the Convention the founding of an
institution for the education of the ministry.
His exertions were seconded by those of others,
and resulted in the establishment of the General
Protestant Episcopal Seminary.

* Oct. 1S54, p. i i.

In 1815, he published a Pastoral Letter to the
Laity on the Bible and Common Prayer Book
Society, in which he urged the propriety of the
distribution of the Prayer Book with the Bible.
This occasioned much opposition from those who
were in favor of a general union of all sects, in
the distribution of the sacred volume alone. An
institution of this character, the American Bible
Society, was soon after established. The Bishop,
fearless in the discharge of what lie considered to
be his duty, published an Address to Episcopalians,
in which he urged those under his charge to
refrain from supporting a plan which would neces-
sarily weaken their own agency for promoting
the same object. In his charge to the Convention
of 1815, on the Nature of the Christian Ministry
as set forth in the Offices of Ordination, he still
further enforced his views of the inexpediency of
union between those who differed widely in
essential points of doctrine. He was soon after
called upon to preach the funeral sermon of Ins
associate. Bishop Moore. On the publication of
this disc mrse, he appended to it a Dissertation on
the State of Departed Spirits and the Descent of
Christ into Hell, in which he advocated the
I doctrine of an intermediate state of consciousness
I between death and the .resurrection, with a
I thoroughness which has caused the essay to
become a standard authority upon the subject.

In 1823, Bishop Hobart sailed for Europe, the
relaxation of travel having become necessary for
the re-establishment of his health, impaired by
his unremitting labors. He remained about two
years abroad. During his visit to England, where
he was very warmly received, he published two
volumes of sermons, which were immediately re-
printed in this city. The Sunday after his return,
he preached a sermon in Trinity Church, in which
he compared the countries he had visited with
his own, and dwelt with force upon the superior
advantages of our voluntary system over an esta-
blished church for the promotion of Christianity.
The discourse was printed and excited much com-
ment, both in this country and in England.

The Bishop, restored to health, resumed the
duties of his office with his wonted efficiency,
continuing their discharge to the moment of his
last illness. He was attacked by a fever while at
Auburn, in the course pf his visitation of the
diocese, and died at that place after a brief illness,
September 12, 1830. A collection of his Post-
humous Works, with a Memoir by the Rev.
William Berrian, D.D., Rector of Trinity Church,
was published in 1 883* His life was also written
by the Rev. John M'Vickar.t

The character of Bishop Hobart was warm,
generous, impulsive ; quick in intellect, benevo-
lent in temper, and of unwearied activity in all the
habits of life. Ho was always busy with earnest
devotion to his Christian calling, while he did not
neglect the social courtesies and innocent enjoy-
ments of life. He had a scholar's taste for books,
and a poet's enjoyment of nature. A well stored
library gratified the one, and a small but nobly
situated piece of land on the historic site in New

* The Posthumous Works of the late Et. Eev. John Henry
Hobart, D.D. With a Memoir of his Life, bv the Rev. William
Berrian, D.D. 8 vos. Svo. Swords, Stanford & Co.

t In a series of three volumes, the Early, the Professional,
and the Closing Years of Bishop J. H. Hobart.

646

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Jersey among the Short Hills, where Washington
had held his post of observation, ministered to the
other in his few opportunities for rural retire-
ment.

His pulpit style was quick and energetic. No
audience ever slumbered under his preaching.

His services to his church were constant and
untiring. Death found him away from home
engaged in a laborious visitation of his diocese.
New York, whither his remains were brought,
' gave a distinguished testimony to his personal
character in the long procession which followed
on foot in his funeral from the parsonage attached
to St. John's Church in Hudson Square to Old
Trinity, where a fine monument, sculptured by
Ball Hughes, was erected to his memory.

AMERICA!* PRINCIPLES OF CIVIL FETvEDOM.*

Let us never withhold the acknowledgment, that
from the first of European nations, drawing our
origin, we have also derived her admirable princi-
ples of civil freedom. Rejecting, indeed, the feudal
characteristics of her polity, the monarchical and
aristocratic features of her constitution, we broadly
and fearlessly recognise the great truth, that though,
in its general powers, and in its sanctions, govern-
ment is " ordained of God," in the particular form of
its administration " it is the ordinance of man ;" and
that, in this sense, the people only are the source of
that political power, which, when exercised accord-
ing to the legitimate forms of the constitution which
thej* have established, cannot be resisted, but under
the penalty of resisting the ''ordinance of God."
Still, though, in these respects, our governments
differ from that of England, let us gratefully remem-
ber, that from her we have derived not only many of
her unrivalled maxims of jurisprudence, those which
protect the freedom of the subject and secure the
trial by jury, but those great principles which con-
stitute the superiority of the modern republics above
the ancient democracies. These are, the principle
of representation ; the division of the legislative,
executive, and judiciary departments; the check on
the exercise of the power of legislation by its dis-
tribution among three branches; the independence
of the judiciary on all influence, except that of the
constitution and the laws ; and its accountability, and
that of the executive, to the people, in the persons
of their representatives ; and thus what constitutes
the characteristic blessing. of a free people, a govern-
ment of laws securing to all the enjoyment of life,
of liberty, and of property.

But even in this, next to our own, the freest of
nations, it is impossible not to form a melancholy
contrast between the power and the splendour and
the wrealth of those to whom the structure of society
and the aristocratic nature of the government assign
peculiar privileges of rank and of political conse-
quence, with the dependent and often abject condi-
tion of the lower orders; and not to draw* the con-
clusion, that the one is the unavoidable result of the
other.

Advantages confessedly there may be in privi-
leged orders, as constituting an hereditary and per-
manent source of political knowledge and talent,
and of refinement and elevation of character, of feel-
ing, and of manners. And in this view, no men can
be more imposing or more interesting than the high-
minded noblemen and gentlemen of England. But,
in this imperfect world, we cannot enjoy at the

* From the Discourse on the United States of America com-
pared with European Countries, 1825.

same time all possible advantages. And those which
result from the hereditary elevation of one small
class of society, must produce in all the noble quali-
ties which distinguish independent freemen, a cor-
responding depression of the great mass of the com-
muuit}7. And can we for a moment hesitate which
state of society to prefer? No. It is the glorious
characteristic of our admirable polity, that the
power, and the property, and the happiness, which
in the old nations of the world are confined to the
few, are distributed among the many; that the
liveliness and content which pervade the humblest
classes among us, are not the meie result of that
buoyancy of animal spirits which nature seems to
have kindly infused into our frame, and which man
shares with the beast that sports in the field or
courses over the plain — but a sober sentiment of
independence, nurtured by the consciousness that in
natural rights and original political power all are
equal. The obedience, therefore, which fear in a
great measure extorts from the mass of the people
of other countries, is here the voluntary offering of a
contented and happy, because, in the broadest sense
of the term — a free people.

PHILANDEE CHASE.

Bishop Chase, one of the greatest promoters of
institutions of sound learning in the United States,
was a descendant from Aquila Chase, a native of
Cornwall, England, who came to America in
1640, and after a residence of live years at Hamp-
ton, New Hampshire, settled at Newbury, Massa-
chusetts. His grandson, Dudley, the father of the
bishop, removed with his several brothers to a
township of which he had obtained a grant on
the Connecticut river, above Fort No. 4, now
Charleston, which was then the limit of settle-
ment. After planting a crop, but before the
settlers could build a house, he was joined by his
wife, who was the first white woman who sought
a home above Fort No. 4. The scene, as described
by his mother, is happily narrated in the bishop's
Reminiscences.

" With your leave, madam," said Pilot Spalding,
" I think it prudent that your husband come to us,
and give orders where he will have his family
lauded." Accordingly he made fast the canoe to the
willows, and desired us to await his return. Your
father could get no direct answer from Spalding as
to the nature of the cargo he had brought. " Come
and s 2e," was all he would say. " Is all well ?" said
your father, " have you brought us a good supply
of food* " " Co Tie and see," replied Spalding, with
animation, and in an instant they burst upon our
view ; and as your dear father stood on the margin
of the high bank, he saw beneath his feet the frail
bark, in which were his wife and children. The
emotion was almost too much for him. I saw this,
aal sprang forward, the children quickly following.
He received us with a mixture of joy mingled with
agony. " Are you come to die here," he exclaimed,
'• before your time ? We have no house to shelter
you, and you will perish before we can get one
erected." " Cheer up, cheer up, my faithful ! " said
I to your father; "let the smiles and the rudly

PHILANDER CHASE.

647

faces of your children, and the health and cheer-
fulness of your wife, make you joyful. If you have
no house, you have stre.igth and hands to make one.
The God we worship will bless us, and help us to
obtain a shelter. Cheer up, cheer up, my faithful ! "
The sunshine of joy and iiope beg.in to beam
from liis countenance; the news was communicated
throughout the company of workmen, and the woods
rang with shouts at the arrival of the first white
woman, and the first family on the banks of the
Connecticut river above Fort Number Four. All
assembled to see the strangers, a:id strove to do them
acts of kindness. The trees were quickly felled and
peeled, and the clean bark in large sheets was spread
for a floor; other sheets being fastened by thongs
of twisted twigs to stakes driven in the ground,
were raised for walls or laid on cross-pieces for a
roof; and the cheerful fire soon made glad our little
dwelling. The space of three hours was not con-
sumed in effecting this ; and never were men more
happy than those who contributed thus speedily and
effectually to supply our wants. Beds were brought
from the canoe to this rustic pavilion, and on them
we rested sweetly, fearless of danger, though the
thick foliage was wet with dew, and the wild beasts
howled all around us, trusting to the protecting
hand of Providence, and the watchful fidelity of our
faithful neighbors.

The settlement was called Cornish, in honor of
the ancient family home, and prospered. It was
here that Philander Chase was born, December
14-, 1775. He was the younge.t of a family of
fourteen, and derived his Christian name from one
of the characters of Young's Night Thoughts, of
which lie tells us his father was so great an ad-
mirer, that he knew the whole poem by heart.
One of his brothers, Dudley, became Chief Justice
of Vermont, and Senator of the United States.
Philander was brought up on the farm, with the
expectation of leading an agricultural life, when
in his fifteenth year he broke his leg, and in the
season of confinement which consequently ensued,
was advised by his father to change his plans.

The advice was followed, and in the fall of
1701, after a preparation of less than a year, he
entered Dartmouth College. It was here, he states,
that in the winter of 1793 and '4 he became ac-
quainted with the Book of Common Prayer, and
soon after, with many of his relatives, conformed
to the church in which he was to occupy a pro-
minent position.

After taking his degree in 1795, he went to
Albany in search of " an English clergyman,"
who was said to reside in that city. His nar-
rative relates the result.

Having passed Market, he entered Court street,
and, stopping at Wendal's Hotel, inquired, where
lives the Rev. Thomas Ellison, the Episcopal clergy-
man ? "What, the English Dominie?" replied a
friendly voice. " You will go up State street — pass
the English stone church, which stands in the middle
of that street, and as you go up the hill, turn the
second corner to the right ; there lives the English
Dominie, the Rev. Mr. Ellison, in a newly-built
white house, the only one on the block or clay
bank." It was indeed just so ; and the writer
mounted the plank door-steps, and with a trembling
hand knocked at the door of the rector of St. Peter's,
Albany. "Is this the Rev. Mr. Ellison ?" said the
writer, as the top of a Dutch-built door was opened
by a portly gentleman in black, with prominent and

piercing eyes, and powdered hair. " My name is
Ellison," said he, " and I crave yours? " Giving his
name, the writer said, " I have come from New
Hampshire, the [dace of my nativity, and being very
desirous of becoming a candidate for holy orders
I will be much obliged for your advice." Mr. Elli-
son then said, " God bless you ! walk in."

He pursued his studies for the ministry with
Mr. Ellison, and on the tenth of May, 17U8, was
ordained deacon in St. George's Church, New
York. He was immediately appointed an itine-
rant preacher in the northern and western
portions of the State. At that time there were
but two clergymen of his faith above the High-
lands, Mr. Ellison at Albany, and Mr. Nash in
Otsego County. In his western tour, after orga-
nizing parishes in Utica and Auburn, he visited
" good Mr. Nash." The account of this visit is
one of the most characteristic passages of the
" Keminiscences."

FATIIF.R NASH.

The writer does not pretend to more sensibility
than falls to the lot of most men, but there was
something in this meeting between Mr. Nash and
himself of a peculiar character, and calculated to
call forth whatever of moral sensibility he possessed.
It was a meeting of two persons deeply convinced
of the primitive and apostolic foundation of the
Church to which, on account of its purity of doctrine,
and the divine right of its ministry, they had fled
from a chaos of confusion of other sects. They
were both " missionaries," though the name was not
understood or appreciated. The one had given up
all his hopes of more comfortable living in the well
stored country at the East, and had come to Otsego
County, to preach the Gospel, and build up the
Church on apostolic ground, with no assurance of a
salary but such as he could glean from the cold soil
of unrenewed nature, or pluck from the clusters of
the few scions which he might engraft into the vine,
Christ Jesus. He lived not in a tent, as the patri-
archs did, surrounded witli servants to tend his
flocks and to milk his kine, and "bring him butter
in a lordly dish ;" but in a cabin built of unhewn
logs, with scarcely a pane of glass to let in light
sufficient to read his Bible; and even this cabin was
not his own, nor was he permitted to live in one for
a long time together. All this was witnessed by the
other, who eame to see him, and helped him to carry
his little articles of crockery, holding one handle
of the basket and Mr. Nash the other, and as they
walked the road, " talked of the things pertaining
to the kingdom of God."

The writer cannot refrain from tears in bringing
to mind the circumstances attending this interesting
scene, that man, who was afterwards emphatically
called, " Father Nash," being the founder of the
Church in Otsego County — who baptized great num-
bers of both adults and children, and thus was the
spiritual father of so many of the family of Christ,
and who spent all his life and strength in toiling for
their spiritual benefit — was at this period so little
regarded by the Church at large, and even by his
neighbors, that he had not the means to move his
substance from one cabin to another but with his
own hands, assisted only by his wife and small
children, and a passing missionary. "Well does the
writer remember how the little one-roomel cabin
looked as he entered it ; its rude door, hung on
wooden hinges, creaking as they turned; how joy-
ful that good man was that lie hail been mindi'ul
to fetch a few nails, which he had used ia the other

648

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

cabin, jnst left, for his comfort in this, now the re-
ceptacle of all his substance. These he drove into the
logs "with great judgment, choosing the place most
appropriate for his hat, his coat, and other garments
of himself and family. All this while his patient
wife, who, directing the children to kindle the fire,
prepared the food for — whom? Shall it be said a-
stranger? 2\'o; but for one who by sympathy felt
kimself more their brother than by all the ties
of nature, and who, by the example now set before
him, learned a lesson of inexpressible use to him all
the days of his subsequent life.

Mr. Chase soon after established himself in
Poughkeepsie, where he remained until 1805,
supporting himself' mainly by teaching. He then,
at the request of the Bishop of the Diocese, who
had received an application for a clergyman from
the Protestants of Slew Orleans, removed to that
city. He assisted in the organization of Christ
Church, became its rector, established a school, and
made missionary excursions in the surrounding
country. In 1811 he returned to the North, in
consequence of the necessity of providing for the
education of the children he had left there. His
next parochial charge was at Hartford, where he
spent, he informs us, the most peaceful period of
his life. In 1814 his father and mother died,
having attained the venerable ages of eighty-six
and eighty -one years. In 1S17 he left his com-
fortable and happy home, to devote himself to
the great work of missionary labor in Ohio. He
started on the second of March, and travelled in
a stage-sleigh to Batavia. From Buffalo, lie pro-
ceeded over the ice on the lake to Ohio, a journey,
owing to the lateness of the season, attended
with great peril. We again resort to the bishop's
narrative.

It was terrific to the feelings, if not in the eye of
reason, to hear the water pour over the runners of
the sleigh as we crossed this muddy stream, in a
dark r.ight, so far out from shore. The man (who
had brought them a stage on their journey) was
liberally rewarded for his extra trouble, and that
night we stayed at Mack's Tavern ; an elderly per-'
son, wiio ngreed that his hired man should take us
on the lake as far as the Four Corners — a place
where there were two log cabins — about twenty -five
miles short of Pennsylvania line.

The next morning was cold but clear — no wind,
and the day promised to be mild and pleasant. A
large, good, travelling horse was put before a one-
horse sleigh, called by the landlord his " cutter,"
large enough to accommodate two and the driver.
It was sunrise ere we set off.

In getting out on to the lake, we had to pass be-
tween several mounds of ice, and sometimes to climb
over large cakes, which had been thrown tip together
by the force of the winds and waves. But the driver [
knew his way, and the horse was rough-shod, and j
the cutter was strong and well built. The scene |
before us, as- we came out from among the mounds ;
of ice, was exceedingly brilliant, and even sublime. ;
Before us, up the lake, was a level expanse of glassy
ice, from two to three miles wide, between two
ranges of ice mountains, all stretching parallel with
the lake shore and with one another, as far as the j
eye could extend, till they were lost in the distance.
On this expanse, and on these mountains, and on the
icicles, which hung in vast quantities, and in an in-
finite variety of shapes from the rocky, lofty, and
sharp-angled shore on the left, the risirg sun was
pouring his beams. Light and 6hade were so

distinct, brilliancy and darkness were in such prox-
imity, and yet J/) blended, as to produce an effect of
admiration and praise to the great Creator, never
before experienced. It would be in vain to express
them here.

What added to the adoring gratitude to God, for
having made all things with such consummate skill
and splendor, was what appeared as we rode along
between these mountains of ice, manifesting God's
providential goodness, which went hand in hand
with His power and wisdom. The bald-headed
eagles sat on these mountains of ice, with eacli a fish
in his claw, fresh and clean, as if just taken from the
limpid lake. " What noble birds ! How delicious
the repast! Whence do they obtain these fish at
this inclement season ? " said the writer. " They get
them," said the driver, "from the top of the ice.
These were thrown up and deposited by the winds
and waves, in the storms of last winter, and being"
immediately frozen, have been kept till this spring,
when the sun thaws them out for the eagles and
ravens, who at this season have nothing else to feed
on." As the driver told this simple story of the fish,
and the storms, and the eagles, how clearly appeared
the providential goodness of God 1 " And will not
He who feedeth the eagles and the ravens, which he
hath made to depend on his goodness, feed, and sup-
port, and bless a poor, defenceless, solitary mission-
ary, who goeth foith, depending on his mercy, to
preach his holy word, and to build up his church in
the wilderness? " There was an answer of faith to
this question, more consoling than if the wealth of
the Indies had been laid at his feet.

It was a little before noon when our Cataraugus
driver stopped on the ice, opposite Four Corners.
Having received his pay and j ut the luggage on the
bank, he returned. "Thus far had the Lord helped."
What next would be our lot we knew not, Leav-
ing our trunks on the beach, where there was
nothing to molest them, we. walked up the ba: k
towards the cabins. As we went, the writer per-
ceived a pair of smooth, black horses, with their
harness on, eating beside the fence, ai.d a man, sittfi g
not far off. shaving shingles. " Who owns these
horses?" said the writer. "I do," said the man.
" Have you also a good sleigh?" "Yes." "Will
you put them before it immediately, and take two
persons up thelake as far as Pennsylvania line ? " At
this lie paused — said he hud just moved on from the
east, and wanted money, " bad enough," having, in
moving his family, expended every cent he had.
" But," said he, " it is a dangerous job you ask of me,
for the lake is open above, and the wind puts the
water in motion, and that causes the ice this way
to crack ; and they say it is dangerous to travel on ;
but if you reward me a little extra, I think I'll go."

The bargain was soon made; a few dough-nuts
bought of the woman in the cabin sufficed to allay
the hunger of the two travellers, and hearing the
man whistling for his dog, and cracking his whip to
his prancing horses, just ready to start, they both
ran to the lake and were soon adjusted in their
seats. The horses trotted with uncommon speed,
and had evenness as well as length of step. The
shore seemed to fly beside us, as since when on our
railroads, and soon were the Four Corners out of
sight.

The writer soon perceived the dangers to which
his present driver had alluded, and the sight caused
no ordinary feelings. The cracks in the ice became
more and more visible, and continued to increase in
width, as we drove rapidly along. Nothing, how-
ever, was said. The horses having trotted without
injurv over the small cracks, became soon accustomed
to leap over the wide ones ; but none were so wide

PHILANDER CHASE.

649

as to let in the runners lengthwise, and we blessed
God silently, though heartily, for every successful
leap.

New spirits seemed to be given to our faithful
beasts the further they went — no whip was necessary.
The driver clung to his seat, and seemed to enjoy
their increased speed. A house was in sight, and
directly he pulle.l up to the smooth, pebbly shore.
" This is the place I promised to bring you to ; it is
Pennsylvania line. You are now on the lake shore
of that state." "I will go no further on the ice,"
said the writer. " I am glad to hear you say so,"
said Mr. Hibbard, " for my heart has been in my
moutli all the way." " Why did not you speak, if
you objected to this mode of travelling?" said the
writer. " Because," said he, " I was ashamed not to
possess as much courage as a minister." How little
did he know of the writer, who had no courage
aside from his trust in God. The driver received
his pav, called for his dog, and was off. Once more
we were oa the lonely beach.

He read prayers and preached for the first time
in Ohio, on the 16th of March, 1817, made a
tour through the State, was joined by his wife
and family, and settled down on a tract of land
of one hundred and fifty acres at Worthington,
taking charge at the same time of churches in
that place, Columbus, and Delaware. In January,
1818, a Convention was held at Columbus, at
which the Diocese of Ohio was organized, and at
a subsequent Convention in June, Mr. Chase was
elected bishop. He had, on the fifth of May
previous, had the misfortune to lose his wife. On
the eleventh of February, 1819, he was con-
secrated by Bishop White. He was married on
Sunday, July -A of the same year, to Miss Sophia
M. [ngraham.

In 1823 the bishop formed the resolution of
visiting England, to solicit funds for the establish-
ment of a school of theology in the West. The
scheme was regarded as chimerical by his brother
bishops, and met with opposition from the friends
of the General Theological Seminary in New
York. The bishop persevered, and with the
small provision of $i00 to meet his expenses,
sailed for Liverpool, His first experiences were
disheartening, but he persevered, and found in
Lord Gamhier, to whom he carried a letter from
Henry Clay, and Lord Kenyan, liberal and influ-
ential friends. The bishop made a donation of
his farm to the proposed seminary, and agreed
that no funds contributed should be drawn, until
English donors were satisfied by the voucher of
Henry Clay, or in case of his death the Governor
of tiie State, that the conditions of the gift had
been complied with. He returned after a few
months' absence with about $30,000. The semi-
nary was commenced by the reception of students
in the bishop's own house at Worthington. lie
appointed his teachers and paid them from his
own funds, and such as he collected from the
students themselves. His wife was his secretary,
his housekeeper, his adviser, and treasurer in all
this. Such a commencement of a great institu-
tion of religion and learning, on so economical a
plan, was never elsewhere witnessed. The next
step was the purchase of eight thousand acres as
a domain. The bishop rightly estimating the im-
portance of his own personal supervision, built a
cabin on the hill on which the college was to
stand.

The whole surface of the hill was then a ■windfall,
being a gre.iter part of it covered with fallen and
up-turned trees, between and over which had come
up a second growth of thick trees and bushes.
It was on such a place as this (proverbially imper-
vious even to the hunters after wolves, which made
it their covert), that the writer pitched his tent, if
such it may be called. On the south end or pro-
montory of this hill (near to which, below, ran the
road used by the first settlers), grew some tall oak
trees, which evidently had escaped the hurricanes
in days of yore. Under the shelter of these, some
boards in a light wagon were taken nearly to the top
of the hill; there they were dropped, and it was
with these the writer's house was built, after the
brush was with great difficulty cleared away. Two
erotched sticks were driven into the ground, and on
them a transverse pole was placed, and on this pole
were placed the boards, inclining to the ground each
way. The ends, or gables, to this room or roof-
shelter, were but slightly closed by some clap
boards rived on the spot from a fallen oak tree. The
be Is to sleep on were thrown on bundles of straw,
kept up from the damp ground by a kind of tem-
porary platform, resting on stakes driven deeply into
the eai'th. This was the first habitation on Gambler
Hill, and it stood very nearly on the site where now
rises the noble edifice of Kenyou College.

On his visit to the east, to attend the meeting
of the General Convention, the bishop made a
tour, during which he collected a large sum in aid
of his project. A portion of the buildings was
commenced on his return, and in good season
completed. Scarcely, however, had the institu-
tion gone into operation, when a difficulty arose
between the bishop and the professors, as to the
limits of the power of the former as ex-offieio
president. The matter was brought into the Con-
vention of the diocese in 1831, and a report
made, virtually endorsing the professors. The
bishop said nothing, and the report was unani-
mously adopted. He retired from the Conven.
tion, and tendered his resignation, which was ac-
cepted. He soon after removed to Michigan with
his family, where he occupied himself with his
wonted energy in missionary duty as a presbyter,
until he received in 1835 an invitation from the
small handful of clergy and laity which com-
posed the diocese, to become the first Bishop of
Illinois. He accepted the appointment, and soon
after, undaunted by the hard requital his former
labors had received, began his exertions for the
foundation of a Theological Seminary and College.
He sailed for England in October, to appeal again
to his old friends for aid, and the appeal was
liberally responded to. Further donations in the
Eastern States enabled him to buy land, and
commence building. The corner-stone of the new
institution. Jubilee College, was laid on the fourth
of April, 1S39, on a large and beautiful tract of '
land, secured by the bishop's wise forethought,
j as a domain and future source of revenue. He
next passed a year in travelling through the
States, north and south, soliciting funds to es-
tablish scholarships, and was tolerably successful
in his efforts. His Eemiui>cences were written
and published with a view to advance the same
cause. Jubilee College was built and opened, and
the good and venerable prelate, by virtue of
seniority the presiding bishop of his church, was
enabled to enjoy for some years the spectacle of

650

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

its harmony and usefulness. His cottage home,
Kobin's Nest, was not far off, and it was here
that ou the twentieth day of September, 1852, he
closed his long life of labor and usefulness, a
career unequalled in its results by that of any
clergyman in the United States.

Bishop Chase's Beinihiscences fill two large
octavo volumes, a large portion of which, how-
ever, is occupied hy letters addressed to him,
and documents connected with the Ohio contro-
versy, and other events of his life. The work
abounds in passages of great beaut}', the charac-
ter of which may be judged from the extracts
interspersed in our narrative. They remind us
of the heartfelt simplicity of Izaak Walton. The
same noble trait was a 'characteristic of the dis-
courses and conversation of the man. But while
harmless as the dove, he was also wise as the
serpent. His cpndnct in relation to the endow-
ment of his colleges shows that he was a shrewd
and able man, " not slothful in business." With
his personal humility, he properly combined a
high sense of the dignity of his office.

Bishop Chase's countenance expressed singular
determination, combined with benevolence. He
was tall and well proportioned ; and arrayed in
the flowing vestments of his office, witli the dark
velvet cap, which he wore continually after a
severe illness brought on by exposure, and which
he describes with his wonted quaintness, as "a
thick covering to his head, in the shape of a
night-cap," his form seemed to fill up as amply to
the eye, as his career and words to the mind, the
full ideal of a bishop.

JOHN J. AUDUBON.

Jons' James Audubon was born in Louisiana in
1776. His acquaintance with Nature seems to
have been early formed under the guidance of his
father, who accompanied him in his boyish ram-
bles. He was sent to complete his education in
France, where he remained until his seventeenth
year. He received in Paris the instructions in
drawing of the celebrated painter David. On his
return his father presented him with a farm in
Pennsylvania, " refreshed during the summer heats
by the waters of the Schuylkill river, and tra-
versed by a creek named Perkioming." Here he
married.

" For a period of nearly twenty years," he says
in the biographical preface to his great work, " my
life was a series of vicissitudes. I tried various
branches of commerce, but they all proved un-
profitable, doubtless because my whole mind was
ever filled with my passion for rambling and ad-
miring those objects of nature from which alone
I received the purest gratification." One of these
commercial speculations led him to try his for-
tune at the West. He removed with his wife
and child, descending the Ohio in a small boat
with two rowers to the town of Henderson, near
Louisville, Ky., and opened a store at the latter
place. Here he was visited by Wilson, and was
about subscribing for the naturalist's work when
he was dissuaded by his partner, who remarked
to him that as he could make much better draw-
ings of his own ho would not want the plates.
This seems to have given him the first hint of his
future publications. He does not appear, how-
ever, to have formed any settled plan on the sub-

ject until, on a visit to Philadelphia, he met with
Charles Lucien Bonaparte, who introduced him
to the Natural History Society and the leading
men of the place. "But the patronage which I
so much needed, I soon found myself compelled
to seek elsewhere. I left Philadelphia, and visit-
ed New York, where 1 was received with a kind-
ness well suited to elevate my depressed spirits."
Ascending the Hudson he " glided over our broad
lakes to seek the wildest solitudes of the pathless
and gloomy forests." Eighteen months elapsed,
and he returned to his family then residing in
Louisiana, and sailed from thence for England,
his endeavors to have his plates engraved in Phi-
ladelphia or New York having proved unavailing.
He was well received in the cities of England and
Scotland, exhibited his drawings, and obtained
subscriptions; The drawings for his first number
were, however, delivered to the engraver and
the work commenced before he had a single sub-
scriber. His work, The Birds of America* was
published in numbers, each containing five colored
plates of large folio size. The first of these ap-
peared in 1825, and the first volume in 1829.

t.dA c^TCM^tT^r^

In April, 1829, he returned to America, " leaped
on shore, scoured the woods of the Middle States,
and reached Louisiana in the end of November."
He returned with his wife to London in the fol-
lowing spring. In 1831 he presented himself at
Washington to obtain letters of introduction to
the commanders of the frontier posts he purposed
visiting. " All," he says, " received me in the
kindest manner." He proceeded southwards,. ex-
ploring the woods of the Carolinas, and cruising
among the keys of Florida in the revenue cutter
" Marion." He then, following the birds in their
migrations, proceeded northwards to the Atlantic
cities and the coast of Maine, where he chartered
a " beautiful and last-sailing schooner," and prc-

* Tho Birds of America, from Drawings made in the United
States and tbeir Territories.

JOHN J. AUDUBON.

651

ceeded in her to Labrador. He returned to the
South in the following winter, and to England in
1834, "with an accession of sixty-two subscrib-
ers, and the collections made during nearly three
years of travel and research." His second volume
was published in 1834, and the third in 1835.
The fourth and last was completed June 20, 1838.
The whole work contains four hundred and thirty-
five plates, containing one thousand and sixty-live
distinct specimens, all, from the eagle to the hum-
ming-bird, of the size of life. The engravings
were executed and colored by Robert Havell, jr.,
of London. The original subscription price was
one thousand dollars, and the number 6f subscrib-
ers one hundred and seventy-five, about half of
whom came from England and France. In 1839
Audubon returned to the United States, and pur-
chased a beautiful country-seat on the Hudson,
near the upper end of New York Island. He
commenced a smaller edition of his " Birds," in
seven octavo volumes, with the plates reduced to
a similar size, which was completed in 1814.
Meanwhile the author, with his sons Victor G.
and John W. Audubon, was busy in the forests
and prairies of the West in collecting the material
for another great work. ■ In the preface to the
second volume of his Birds, dated Dec. 1, 1834,
he says of his sons : — " Of their natural or ac-
quired talents it does not become me to speak,
but should you some day see the 'Quadrupeds of
America' published by their united efforts, do
not forget that a pupil of David first gave them
lessons in drawing, and that a member of the
Bakewell family formed their youthful minds."

The first volume of the Quadrupeds of America
appeared in 1848. It is similar in size to the
" Birds." The illustrations were lithographed, and
colored under the author's supervision, by Bowen
of Philadelphia. The Audubons were assisted in
the work by the Rev. John Bachman.

Audubon's time, when not absent on his jour-
neys, which he continued in his old age with the
determination and eagerness of youth, was pas-ied
at his rural home, one of the most beautiful coun-
try-seats on New York Island. The interior was
fitted up in accordance with his tastes and pur-
suits, with antlers of noble size, specimens and
drawings of birds and animals.

It was in this pleasant abode, surrounded by
his wife and family, that the great naturalist,
after a brief period of gradual decay, himself paid
the debt of nature on the 27th of January, 1851.
" We have heard," says a writer in the " Homes
of American Authors," "that the last gleam of
light stole across his features a few days before
his death, when one of his sons held before him,
as he sat in his chair, some of his most cherished
drawings."

He was buried in the Trinity cemetery, a short
distance from his abode.

In person Audubon was tall and commanding,
and his countenance, from the sharp glance of his
eye and the outline of his features, suggested a
resemblance to the eagle.

COMMON HOCK1NG-JJIHD.

It is where the great magnolia shoots up its mn-
jestic trunk, crowned with evergreen leaves, and
decorated with a thousand beautiful flowers, that
perfume the air around ; where the forests and fields

are adorned with blossoms of every hue ; where the
golden orange ornaments the gardens and groves;
where biguonias of various kinds interlace their
climbing stems around the white-flowered stuartia,
and mounting still higher, cover the summits of the
lofty trees around, accompanied with innumerable
vines, that here and there festoon the dense foliage
of the magnificent woods, lending to the vernal
breeze a slight portion of the perfume of their clus-
tered flowers ; where a genial warmth seldom for-
sakes the atmosphere ; where berries and fruits of
all descriptions are met with at every step; — in a
word, kind reader, it is where Nature seems to havo
paused, as she passed over the earth, and opening
her stores, to have strewed with unsparing hand the
diversified seeds from which have sprung all the
beautiful and splendid forms which I should in vain
attempt to describe, that the mocking-bird should
have fixed its abode, there only that its wondrous
song should be heard.

But where is that favored land ? — It is in this great
continent. — It is, reader, in Louisiana that these
bounties of nature are in the greatest perfection. It
is there tlint you should listen to the love-song of
the mocking-bird, as I -it this moment do. See how
he flies round his mate, with motions as light a3
those of the butterfly ! His tail is widely expanded,
he mounts in the air to a small distance, describes a
circle, and, again alighting, approaches his beloved
one, his eyes gleaming with delight, for she has al-
ready promised to be his and his only. His beauti-
ful wings are gently raised, he bows to his love, and
again bouncing upwards, opens his bill, and pours
forth his melody, full of exultation at the conquest
which he has made.

They are not the soft sounds of the flute or of the
hautboy that I hear, but the sweeter notes of Na-
ture's own music. The mellowness of the song, the
varied modulations and gradations, the extent of its
compass, the gi'eat brilliancy of execution, are unri-
valled. There is probably no bird in the world that
possesses all the musical qualifications of this king
of song, who has derived all from Nature's self. Yes,
reader, all!

No sooner has he again alighted, and the conjugal
contract has been sealed, than, as if his breast was
about to be rent with delight, he again pours forth
his notes with more softness and richness than be-
fore. He now soars higher, glancing around with a
vigilant eye, to assure himself that none has wit-
nessed his bliss. When these love scenes, visible
only to the ardent lover of nature, are over, he dan-
ces through the air, full of animation and delight,
and, as if to convince his lovely mate that to enrich
her hopes he has much more love in store, he that
moment begins anew, and imitates all the notes
which nature has imparted to the other songsters of
the grove.

For awhile, each long day and pleasant night are
thus spent; but at a peculiar note of the female ho
ceases his song, and attends to her wishes. A nest
is to be prepared, and the choice of a place in which
to lay it is to become a matter of mutual considera-
tion. The orange, the fig, the pear-tree of the gar-
dens are inspected ; the thick briar patches are also
visited. They appear all so well suited for the pur-
pose in view, and so well does the bird know that
man is not his most dangerous enemy, that instead
of retiring from him, they at length fix their abode
in his vicinity, perhaps in the nearest tree to his
window. Dried twigs, leaves, grasses, cotton, flax,
and other substances are picked up, carried to a
forked branch, and there arranged. Five eggs are
deposited in due time, when the male having little
more to do than to sing his mate to repose, attunes

652

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

his pipe anew. Every now and then he spies an
insect on the ground, the taste of which he is sure
will please his beloved one. He drops upon it, takes
it in his bill, beats it against the earth, and flies to
the nest to feed and receive the warm thanks of his
devoted female.

When a fortnight has elapsed, the young brood
demand all their care and attention. No cat, no
vile snake, no dreaded Hawk, is likely to visit their
habitation. Indeed the inmates of the next house
have by this time become quite attached to the
lovely pair of mocking-birds, and t:ike pleasure in
contributing to their safety. The dew-berries from
the fields, and many kinds of fruit from the gardens,
mixed with insects, supply the young as well as the
parents with food. The brood is soon zzen emerg-
ing from the nest, and in another fortnight, being
now able to fly with vigor, and to provide for them-
selves, they leave the parent birds, as many other
species do.

JOHN ELAIE LIOTT.

Jons Blair Lixm was born at Shippensburg,
Pennsylvania, March 14, 1777. "While he was
yet a child his father removed to New York, and
after passing two or three years at a boarding-
school at Flushing, he entered Columbia College
at the early age of' thirteen. After taking his de-
gree he became a law student in the office of his
father's friend, Alexander Hamilton. During the
year that he passed in reading law, he brought
out a dramatic piece at the John Street Theatre,
entitled Bourville Castle ; or, the Gallic Orphan.
It is described in the advertisements of the day
as a "serious drama, interspersed with songs," and
a critique from "an unknown correspondent," in
the Minerva newspaper of Jan. 18, 1707, pro-
bably his friend Brown the novelist, who, Dunlap
tells U", revised the manuscript, gives the only
notice it appears to have received :■ —

It is the tale of injured innocence and murdered
greatness, and is told with great beauty, affecting
simplicity, nay, often with uncommon pathos. Upon
the whole, though it would be " outstepping the
modesty of nature" to call Bourville Castle a pro-
duction equal to Shakespeare's, yet it is but the just
tribute of merit to say that, considering the author's
years, it is a masterly dramatic composition ; and
contains every requisite, both as to sentiment as
well as to music and scenery, to excite the feeling
approbation of an audience.

It was produced on Monday, Jan. 16, and was
played three times. The public did not second
the anonymous critic. A law student, who
brought out a play in the first year after opening
his books, was not likely to turn out a lawyer
even with so distinguished a master as Hamilton.
He took no interest in the profession, and would
probably have abandoned it, even if the change
which now took place in his views had not oc-
curred. He had always led a correct life, hut his
mind at this time suddenly being more deeply
impressed by religious views, he resolved to be-
come a clergyman. In pursuance of this deter-
mination, he removed from New York to the
quiet study of the Rev. Dr. Romeyn of Schenec-
tady, and was in due course ordained a Presby-
terian clergyman in the year 1798. He accepted
a call to become the assistant of the Rev. Dr.
Ewing, minister of the First Presbyterian Church,

Philadelphia, and resided in that city during the
remainder of his life. At the. time of his removal
to Philadelphia he married Miss Hester Bailey,
daughter of Colonel John Bailey, of Poughkeep-
sie, New Y'ork. This lady and two sons survived
him.

In the year 1800 he published an Ossianic
poem on the topic that then occupied every
tongue and every pen, The Death of Washington.
The year after his principal poetical production,
a poem, entitled The Powers of Genius, appeared.
It is in three parts, of some two hundred lines
each. The writer points out the distinctions be-
tween taste; fancy, and genius, and dwells upon
the topic in which his theme delights, upon its
powers, and the poets who have given indica-
tions of its possession, without himself essaying
any definite description of its qualities. The poem
is smoothly written, but unfortunately exhibits
slight indications of the " powers" it celebrates.
It is well garnished with scholar-like and sensible
notes, which show a good critical appreciation of
the English poets, and of poetical themes. It was
well received, soon reached a second edition, and
was reprinted in England.

His next publication was occasioned by the ap-
pearance of Dr. Priestley's comparison of Socrates
and our Saviour. His religious feeling was shocked
by the irreverence of the juxtaposition, and for-
tified by a sense of duty, he, a young man almost
unknown, boldly ventured to challenge one who
had long before established a reputation of no ordi-
nary character and extent.

The controversy was of brief duration, closing
with a second reply by Dr. Priestley to a second
publication by his young opponent. The two
pamphlets of the latter extend to sixty-six and a
hundred and forty-four pages. They are written
with great ability, and contain a close analysis of
the character of Socrates. "We select a few pas-
sages : —

I have often been surprised at the praises given
to the Soeratic mode of conversation. It is somewhat
deserving of praise, when employed by a professed
tutor to his pupil, for in that case the parties meet,
one with a full conviction of his ignorance, and the
other with the express purpose of supplying him
with knowledge. But in the intercourse of equals,
no method can be imagined more unsuitable. There
is no mode more likely to excite resentment; to
awaken passions that are sure to bar up the avenues
of conviction. To have our error detected and
proved, to extort from us the confession of our mis-
take, is always grating to our pride, and the arts of
a master in discourse are chiefly shown in preventing
and soothing this passion.

In the dialogues of Socrates, as reported by his
followers, we can expect to find nothing that will
mar the even course of their master's logic. The
person that is talked to is a mere machine, appointed
to consent to every demand that is made, and to
abjure, with the most edifying docility, every doubt
which the reporter of the dialogue can invent for
him.

The men on whom Socrates employed his logic
were either stupid or ingenious. The former are
commonly vain and conceited, and would not fail to
be exasperated by the treatment of Socrates, a treat-
ment which had no purpose in view but to mortify
their vanity. The latter would ill deserve the title

JOHN BLAIR LINK

653

of ingenious, if they could not escape from the con-
clusions to which they were pressed, by new dis-
tinctions, qualifications, or evasions. The tenets of
Socrates were not such as soared above all cavil, or
that could not be seemingly disproved by an artful
and eloquent man, adopting the same mode of argu-
ment. The man of true wisdom will seldom excite
enmity either by his words or actions. He proposes
no other end by his instructions than to benefit
mankind, and the wicked themselves will come in
for a large share of his compassion and beneficence.
In his endeavors to reclaim them, he will pave a
way to their heads through their hearts. He will
win their love before he gains their conviction; and
even when he fails to make them converts to his
cause, he will secure their alfectiou and esteem.

The ability displayed in these publications, com-
bined with the author's previous claims to regard,
obtained for him from the university of his native
state the degree of D.D. at an age earlier than it
had ever there previously been conferred.

In the same year, 1802, he was called upon to
preach the funeral sermon of his venerable asso-
ciate, Dr. Ewing. The discourse was printed. Its
concluding sentences will show the character of
his compositions for the pulpit.

How swift is the flight of years ! How rapid the
race of men through the world ! The torch of
earthly glory blazes and scorches for a moment, and
then is extinguished for ever. The iron scythe of
time is ever in motion, and men are the grass which
falls beneath its sweep. The sun pours his tempo-
rary effulgence around us, but the period will arrive
when his beams shall be quenched, when destruction
shall descend upon the earth, and night— starless
night — shall encircle destruction. Who, then, will
live for time, who will live for eternity? Great
God ! With heavenly solemnity impress our hearts,
enable us to rise above the world in our affections,
and to look beyond its grave ; enable us to live as
becomes sojourners on this earth, as becomes thy
faithful servants and the heirs of immortality !

An inconsiderate exposure to a hot summer's
sun in an open waggon, had, previously to these
events, caused a fainting fit, followed by a fever.
From this attack he never entirely recovered. A
tendency to mental depression, to which he had
always been subject, aided the advance of con-
sumption, and he died of that disease on the
thirtieth of August, 1804. Soon after this event
his poem of Valerian was published, accompanied
by an admirable biographical memoir by his
brother-in-law and warm friend, Charles Brock-
den Brown, it is a narrative poem, and, though
only a part of a contemplated design, extends to
some fifteen hundred lines in blank verse.

The scene is laid in Montalvia, a fanciful king-
dom placed by the writer on the shores of the
Caspian. Alcestes, an old man "revered within
Montalvia," chancing to pass by the sea-shore
during a tempest, finds a youth cast ashore by the
waves. He has him conveyed to his cottage, and
there, by his own and his fair daughter Azora's
care, the stranger is restored to consciousness,
and naturally inquires where he is, which enables
Alcestes to satisfy the reader's as well as the
guest's curiosity touching Montalvia. The reply
gives a fanciful description of a pastoral commu-
nity, with an Olympus of contending deities, good
and bad, to each class of which sacrifices are

offered. The people are ruled by a king, Orian-
der, and live peacefully in cities and fair meadows.
A chain of mountains, " skirting the north," is
the stronghold of Astahan and his band, who
waylay and plunder unwary travellers and hunt-
ers. In the same region a ruined temple is
situated, in which dwells

a hoary wight, deep versed in arts
Of direful magic.

This description, a curious compound of the clas-
sic poets and of Spenser, closes the first book.
In the second, the young stranger, a Christian,
gives his host an outline of the history of our
Saviour and his Apostles, and of the persecution
of the Christians under Nero ; during which the
narrator, refusing to abjure his religion, was ex-
posed to the attacks of a lion on the Roman
stage, but, " clad in light armor," was enabled to
slay the wild beast, and shortly after, by his
father's aid, to bribe his jailors and escape.

In the third and last book, Valerian domesti-
cates himself in Montalvia, converts the king and
people to Christianity, defeats a conspiracy formed
against him, exposes the " ventriloquial powers"
(a hint from Brown's Wielaud) of the magician
in his ruined temple, and overhearing, on a clear
night, the fair Azora singing a song in his praise,
responds in a strain, different in metre, but of a
similarly complimentary character. This, of
course, settles the love affair, and a wedding ends
the poem.

The story is narrated in a smooth and flowing
style, and many passages descriptive of the suffer-
ings of the early Christians are animated and
pathetic.

FROM THE POWERS OF GF.NITTB.

What vast delights flow on that glowing breast,

By virtue-strengtheri'd and by Genius blest 1

Whate'er in Nature beautiful or grand,

In air, or ocean, or the teeming land,

Meets its full view, excites a joy unknown.

To those whom Genius dashes from her throne.

Genius finds speech in trees ; the running brook

To her speaks language, like a favourite book;

She dresses Nature in her brightest form,

She hears with rapture the descending storm,

She lists the chiming of the falling stream,

Which lulls to sleep and wakes the airy dream ;

En wrapt with solitude she loves to tread

O'er rugged hills, or where the green woods spread ;

To hear the songsters of the lonely grove

Breathe their SAveet strains of gladness and of love:

She lnves to wander when the moon's soft ray

Treads on the footsteps of departing day,

When heavy sadness hangs upon the gale,

And twilight deepens o'er the dusky vale, — ■

By haunted waters, or some ruln'd tower,

Which stands the shock of Time's destroying power,

Wiiere the dim owl directs his dusky flight,

And pours his sorrows on the ear of Night.

The song of bards and Wisdom's ancient page,

Which brave the blasts of each succeeding age ;

With fond delight she studies and admires,

And glows and kindles at their sacred fires.

She treads on air, she rises on the wind,

Ami with them leaves the lagging world behind.

When solitude o'erhangs the lardy hour,

She finds within herself a social power.

On life's sad journey she is doom'd to bear

The sweetest pleasure and the keenest care.

654

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

If she be subject to severer woe,

Than cold phlegmatic Simla can ever know ;

She knows those joys which soar above their sight,

As rolls the planet in the worlds of light.

IIENEY CLAY.
Hent.y Clay, the seventh child of the Rev. John
Clay, was born at the Slashes (a local term for a
low, swampy country), Hanover County, Vir-
ginia, April 12, 1777. His father died in 1781,
and his mother afterwards married Captain Henry
Watkins. He proved a kind stepfather, as it was
owing to his exertions that Henry, after acquir-
ing the rudiments of English education at the log
school-house of Peter Deacon, earning the memo-
rable title of " Mill Boy of the Slashes" by his
errands to the mill for his mother, was promoted
from the position of a country shopboy to that
of a copyist in the office of the Clerk of the Vir-
ginia Court of Chancery. He studied law, and
was admitted to the bar in 1797. He removed to
Lexington, Ky., where he practised his profession
with givat success. In 1803 he was elected to
the Legislature of his State, and in 1806 ap-
pointed to fill the short remainder of the term of
General Adair, who had resigned, in the national
Senate. In 1809 he was again appointed in a
similar manner to the same office. In 1811 he
was chosen a member of the House of Represen-
tatives, and was elected Speaker the same day
that he took his scat as a member of that body.
He retained this office until his appointment in
January, 1814, as one of the commissioners to
negotiate the Treaty of Ghent. On his return,
he was re-elected to Congress. In 1820 he re-
tired to resume professional practice, in order to
repair the losses which his private fortune had
sustained by his long and exclusive devotion to
the public .service. In 1823 he returned to the
House, and was again elected Speaker._

MCAj

He was a candidate for the Presidency in the
contest which resulted in the election by the
House of Representatives of Mr. Adams, by whom
he was appointed Secretary of State, an office
he retained until the inauguration of General
Jackson in 1829. He then retired from public
life for two years, and in 1831 was elected to the
Senate. In the election of 1832 he was a candi-
date for the Presidency, but defeated by President
Jack-on. He was also a candidate for the "Whig
nomination obtained by General Harrison in 1839.
In 1842 he resigned his seat in the Senate, taking
his farewell of that body in a speech which
ranks among his finest oratorical efforts.

In 1844 Henry Clay was again nominated to
the presidency, and after a most warmly contested
election defeated by James K. Polk. In 1849 he
returned to the Senate, where he took an active
part in favor of the " compromise measures" of
1850. This was his last public effort. A visit to
New Orleans and Havana in the following win-
ter, for the benefit of his failing health, was un-
productive of good results, and finding himself
after the opening of the session in 1851 unable to

fulfil his duties, he announced his resignation, to
j take effect September 20, 1852. He gradually
' sank under the influence of wasting disease, and
died at Washington, June 29, 1852.

Clay was in favor of the war in 1812, advo-
I cated the construction of the National Road and
other " Internal Improvements," and was in
favor of the recognition of the South American
Republics, atid of the independence of Greece.
Some of his noblest oratorical efforts were de-
livered in support of these measures. He was an
advocate throughout -his political career of "pro-
tection to American industry" by means of a
high tariff. For the sake of the peace of the
Union, he was content in the nullification troubles
to waive this policy, and a similar sacrifice of
private preference to public good characterized
his career; His speeches are sincere and im-
passioned, qualities which distinguished the man,
and which were among the chief causes of the
great personal popularity which he enjoyed.*
Full, flowing, sensuous, his style of oratory was
modulated by a voice of sustained power and
sweetness, and a heart of chivalrous courtesy.
Of the great triumvirate of the Senate, Calhoun,
Webster, and Clay, respectively representing the
South, the East, and the West, the last was the
great master of feeling. His frank hearing, his
self-developed vigor, his spontaneous eloquence
and command of language, were western charac-
teristics, and reached the heart of the whole
country. While Calhoun engaged the attention
of philo-ophers in his study, and Webster had the
ear of lawyers and the mercantile classes, Clay
was out in the open air with the people, exciting
at will their sympathies, while the warmest acts
of friendship poured in upon him unsought. In
the language of Wirt, it was a popularity which
followed, not which was run after. There was
at once something feminine and manly in his
composition. He united the gentlest affections
of woman with the pride of the haughtiest man-
hood. When his last moments came, he died as
he had lived, with simplicity and dignity.

Mr. Clay's speeches were collected, and with
his life " compiled and edited by Daniel Mallory,"
published in 1843, in two volumes 8vo. His
" Life and Times" by Calvin Colton, also in two
volumes 8vo., appeared in 1845.
Mr. Clay left a widow and three sons.

FHOM THE SPEECH ON TJIE GREEK REVOLUTION, JAN. 20, 1S24.

Cut, sir, it is not for Greece alone that I desire to
see this measure adopted. It will give to her but

* The unaffected kindness and simplicity of Clay's manner
are happily indicated in the following note, which we fird
credited to a Kichmond newspaper. It was addressed to tho
children of a gentleman of that city: —

Washington, February IS. 1S89.

My dear Children : Having made the acquaintance of your
father, and received from him many acts of kindness, I tako
great pleasure, in compliance with his wishes, in addressing
these lines to you.

During a long life. I havo observed that those are most
happy who love, honor, and obey their parents; who avoid
idleness and dissipation, and employ their time in constant
labor, both of body and mind ; and who perform with regular
and scrupulous attention, all their duties to our Maker, and his
only Sou, our blessed Saviour.

May you live long, and prove a blessing to your father and
mother, ornaments to society, and acceptable to God. Such ii
the hope of your father's friend, nnd although unknown to
you, your friend, H. Clay.

HENRY CLAY.

655

little support, and that purely of a moral kind. It
is principally for America, for the credit and cha-
racter of our common country, for our own unsullied
name, that I hope to see it pass. Mr. Chairman,
what appearance on the page of history would a
record like this exhibit ? "In the mouth of January,
in the year of our Lord and Saviour, lS'J-f, while all
European Christendom beheld, with cold and unfeel-
ing indifference, the unexampled wrongs and inex-
pressible misery of Christian Greece, a proposition
was made in the Congress of the United States,
almost the sole, the last, the greatest depository of
human hope and human freedom, the representatives
of a gallant nation, containing a million of freemen
ready to fly to arms, while the people of that nation
were spontaneously expressing its deep-toned feeling,
and the whole continent, by one simultaneous emo-
tion, was rising, and solemnly and anxiously suppli-
cating and invoking high heaven to spare and succor
Greece, and to invigorate her arms m her glorious
cause, whilst temples and senate houses were alike
resounding with one burst of generous and holy sym-
pathy ; in the year of our Lord and Saviour, that
Saviour of Greece and of us; a proposition was of-
fered in the American Congress to send a messenger
to Greece, to inquire into her state and condition,
"with a kind expression of our good wishes and our
sympathies — and it was rejected !" Go home, if you
can — go home, if you dare, to your constituents, and
tell them that you voted it down; meet if you can,
the appalling countenances of those who sent you
here, ami tell them that you shrank from the decla-
ration of your own sentiments'; that you cannot tell
how, but that some unknown dread, some indescri-
bable apprehension, some indefinable danger, drove
you from your purpose; that the spectres of eimiters,
and crowns, and crescents, gleamed before you and
alarmed you ; and that you suppressed all the noble
feelings prompted by religion, by liberty, by national
independence, and by humanity. I cannot bring
myself to believe, that such will be the feeling of a
majority of the committee. But for myself, though
every friend of the cause should desert it, and I be
left to stand alone with the gentleman from Massa-
chusetts, I will give to his resolution the poor sanc-
tion of my unqualified approbation.

ADDRESS TO LAFAYETTE ON TITS RECEPTION BY THE IIOCSE OF
REPRESENTATIVES, DECEMBER 10, 1824.

General, — The House of Representatives of, the
"United States, impelled alike by its own feelings,
and by those of the whole American people, could
not have assigned to me a more gratifying duty than
that of presenting to you cordial congratulation's upon
the occasion of your recent arrival in the United
States, in compliance with the wishes of Congress,
and to assure you of the very high satisfaction which
your presence affords on this early theatre of your
glory and renown. Although but few of the mem-
bers who compose this body shared with you in the
war of our revolution, all have, from impartial his-
tory, or from faithful tradition, a knowledge of the
perils, the sufferings, and the sacrifices, which you
voluntarily encountered, and the signal services, in
America and in Europe, which you performed for
an infant, a distant, and an alien people; and all feel
and own the very great extent of the obligations
under which you have placed our country. But the
relations in which you have everstood to the United
States, interesting and important as they have been,
do not constitute the only motive of the respect and
admiration which the House of Representatives en-
tertain for you. Your consistency of character, your
uniform devotion to regulated liberty, in all' the
vicissitudes of a long and arduous life, also com-

mands its admiration. During all the recent con-
vulsions of Europe, amidst, as after the dispersion of,
every political storm, the people of the United States
have beheld you, true to your old principles, firm
and erect, cheering and animating with your well
known voice, the votaries of liberty, its faithful and
fearless champion, ready to shed the last drop of that
blood which here you so freely and nobly spilt, in
the same holy cause.

The vain wish has been sometimes indulged, that
Providence would allow the patriot, after death, to
return to his country, and to contemplate the inter-
mediate changes which had taken place ; to view the
forests felled, the cities built, the mountains levelled,
the canals cut, the highways constructed, the pro-
gress of the arts, the advancement of learning, and
the increase of population. General, your present
visit to the United States is a realization of the con-
soling object of that wish. You are in the midst
of posterity. Every where, you must have been
struck with the great changes, physical and moral,
which have occurred since you left us. Even this
very city, bearing a venerated name, alike endeared
to you and to us, has since emerged from the forest
which then covered its site. In one respect you be-
hold us unaltered, and this is in the sentiment of
continued devotion to liberty, and of ardent affection
and profound gratitude to your departed friend, the
father of his country, and to you, and to your illus-
trious associates in the field and in the cabinet, for
the multiplied blessings which surround us, and for
the very privilege of addressing you which I now
exercise. This sentiment, now fondly cherished by
more than ten millions of people, will be transmitted,
wifh unabated vigor, down the tide of time, through
the countless millions who are destined to inhabit
this continent, to the latest posterity.

FROM THE VALEDICTORY ADDRESS TO THE SENATE, 1842.

From 1806, the period of my entrance upon this
noble theatre, with short intervals, to the present
time, I have been engaged in the public councils, at
home or abroad. Of the services rendered during
that long and arduous period of my life it does not
become me to speak ; history, if she deign to notice
me, and posterity, if the recollection of my humble
actions shall be transmitted to posterity, are the best,
the truest, and the most impartial judges. When
death has closed the scene, their sentence will be
pronounced, and to that I commit myself. My pub-
lic conduct is a fair subject for the criticism and
judgment of my fellow-men ; but the motives by
which I have been prompted are known only to the
great searcher of the human heart and to myself;
and I trust I may be pardoned for repeating a de-
claration made some thirteen years ago, that, what-
ever errors, and doubtless there have been many,
may be discovered in a review' of my public service,
I can with unshaken confidence appeal to that divino
arb'tir for the truth of the declaration, that I have
been influenced by no impure purpose, no personal
motive; have sought no personal aggrandizement;
but that, in all my public acts, I have had a single
eye directed, and a warm and devoted heart dedi-
cated, to what, in my best judgment, I believed the
true interests, the honor, the union, and the happi-
ness of my country required.

During that long period, however, I have not
escaped the fate of other public men, nor failed to
incur censure and detraction of the bitterest, most
unrelenting, and most malignant character: and
though not always insensible to the pain it was
meant to inflict, I have borne it in general with com-
posure, and without disturbance here, [pointing to
his breast,] waiting as I have done, in perfect and

65G

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

undoubting confidence, for the ultimate triumph of
justice and of truth, and in the entire persuasion
that time would settle all things as they should be,
and that -whatever wrong or injustice I might expe-
rience at the hands of man, He to whom all hearts
are open and fully known, would, by the inscrutable
dispensations of his providence, rectify all error,
redress all wrong, and cause ample justice to be
done.

But I have not meanwhile been unsustained. Eve-
ryAvhere throughout the extent of this great conti-
nent I have had cordial, warm-hearted, faithful; and
devoted friends, who have known me, loved me, and
appreciated my motives. To them, if language were
capable of fully expressing my acknowledgements, I
would now otter all the return I have the power to
make for their genuine, disinterested, and persever-
ing fidelity and devoted attachment, the feelings and
sentiments of a heart overflowing with never-ceasing
gratitude. If, however, I fail in suitable language
to express my gratitude to them for all the kindness
they have shown me, what shall I say, what can I
say at all commensurate with those feelings of grati-
tude with which I have been inspired by the state
whose humble representative and servant I have
been in this chamber? [Here Sir. C.'s feelings over-
powered him, and he proceeded with deep sensibility
and difficult utterance.]

I emigrated from Virginia to the State of Ken-
tucky now nearly forty-five years ago ; I went as
an orphan boy who had not yet attained the age of
majority ; who had never recogni.-cd a father's smile,
nor felt his warm caresses; poor, pennyless, without
the favor of the great, with an imperfect and neg-
lected education, hardly sufficient for the ordinary
business and common pursuits of life ; but scarce
had I set my foot upon her generous soil when I
was embraced with parental fondness, caressed as
though I hail been a favorite child, and patronised
with liberal and unbounded munificence. From that
period the highest honors of the state have been
freely bestowed upon me ; and when, in the darkest
hour of calumny and detraction, I seemed to be as-
sailed by all the rest of the world, she interposed her
broad and impenetrable shield, repelled the poisoned
shafts that were aimed for my destruction, and vin-
dicated my good name from every malignant and
unfounded aspersion. I return with indescribable
pleasure to linger a while longer, and mingle with
the warm-hearted and whole-souled people of that
state; and, when the hist scene shall for ever close
upon me, I hope that my earthly remains •will be
laid under her green sod with those of her gallant
and patriotic sons.

###■**"/*•#-*

In the course of a long and arduous public service,

especially during the last eleven years in which I
have held a seat in the senate, from the same ardor
nnd enthusiasm of character, I have no doubt, in the
heat of debate, and in an honest endeavor to main-
tain my opinions against adverse opinions alike ho-
nestly entertained, as to the best course to be adopt-
ed for the public welfare, I may have often inad-
vertently and unintentionally, in moments of excited
debate, made use of language that has been offensive,
nnd susceptible of injurious interpretation towards
my brother senators. If there be any here who re-
tain wounded feelings of injury or dissatisfaction
produced on such occasions, I beg to assure them
that I now offer the most ample apology for any de-
parture on my part from the established rules of
parliamentary decorum and courtesy. On the other
hand, I assure senators, one and all, without excep-
tion and without reserve, that I retire from this
chamber without carrying with me a single feeling

of resentment or dissatisfaction to the senate or any
one of its members.

I go from this place under the hope that we shall,
mutually, consign to perpetual oblivion whatever
personal collisions may at any time unfortunately
have occurred between us; and that our recollec-
tions shall dwell in future only on those conflicts of
mind with mind, those intellectual struggles, those
noble exhibitions of the powers of logic, argument,
and eloquence, honorable to the senate and to the
nation, in which each has sought and contended for
what he deemed the best mode of accomplishing one
common object, the interest and the most happiness
of our beloved country. To these thrilling and de-
lightful scenes it will be my pleasure and my pride
to look back .n my retirement with unmeasured
satisfaction. .

********

In retiring, as I am about to do, for ever, from the
senate, suffer me to express my heartfelt wishes that
all the great and patriotic objects of the wise fram-
ers of our constitution may be fulfilled ; that the
high destiny designed for it may be fully answered;
and that its deliberations, now and hereafter, may
eventuate in securing the prosperity of our beloved
country, in maintaining its rights and honor abroad,
and upholding its interests at home. I retire, I
know, at a period of infinite distress and embarrass-
ment. I wish I could take my leave of you under
more favorable auspices; but, without meaning at
this time to say whether on any or on whom re-
proaches for the sad condition of the country should
fall, I appeal to the senate and to the world to bear
testimony to my earnest and continued exertions to
avert it, and to the truth that no blame can justly
attach to me.

May the most precious blessings of heaven rest
upon the whole senate and each member of it, and
may the labors of every one redound to the benefit of
the nation and the advancement of his own fame and
renown. And when you shall retire to the bosom of
your constituents, may you receive that most cheer-
ing and gratifying of all human rewards — their cor-
dial greeting of " well done, good and faithful ser-
vant."

And now, Mr. President and senators, I bid you
all a long, a lasting, and a friendly farewell.

JOHN SHAW.
Jotin Shaw, a poet of Maryland, was born at An-
napolis, May 4, 1778. lie was prepared for St.
John's College by Mr. Higginbothain, a teacher of
note in his day and district. After completing
his course, lie studied medicine; but instead of
settling down to home practice after being licens-
ed,obtained a surgeon's appointment in the fleet or-
dered to Algiers in December, 1798. lie remained
a. few months at Tunis, aiid was then sent by Gen.
Eaton to consult Mr. King, the American minister
at London, with reference to the threatened hos-
tility of the Bey ; but on receiving intelligence
that the anticipated difficulties had been arranged,
he proceeded to Lisbon and thence home, in April,
1800. He left again the next year to pursue his
studies in Edinburgh, where he fell in with the
Earl of Selkirk, and sailed with him in 1803 for
Canada, where the nobleman was founding a set-
tlement on St. John's Lhmd, in Lake St. Clair.

In 1805, he again returned home and commenc-
ed practice; married in 1807; removed to Balti-
more, where, in the beginning of the year 1808,
incautiously exposing himself by qccupying anen-
tire night in chemical experiments which required

JOHN BRISTED.

657

him to frequently immerse his arms in cold water,
he incurred a consumption which caused his
death on his voyage from Charleston to the Ba-
hamas on the 10th of January, 1809. His poems
were collected after his death and published with
a memoir, containing extracts from his foreign
journals and correspondence, in 1810. They are
on the usual miscellaneous topics of fugitive verse
of the average order of excellence.*

A S1.EIGUING SONG.

When calm is the niglit, and the stars shine bright,
The sleigh glides smooth and cheerily;
And mirth and jest abound,
While all is still around,
Save the horses' trampling Bound,
And the horse-bells tinkling merrily.

But when the drifting snow in the traveler's face shall
blow.
And hail is driving drearily.

And the wind is shrill and loud,
Then no sleigh shall stir abroad,
Nor along the beaten road
Shall the horse-bells tinkle merrily.

But to-night the skies are clear, and we have not to
fear
That the time should linger wearily ;
For good-humour has a charm
Even winter to disarm,
And our cloaks shall wrap us warm.
And the bells shall tinkle merrily.

And whom do I spy, with the sparkling eye,
And lips that pout so cherrily ;

Round her neck the tippet tied,

Ready in the sleigh to glide?

Oil ! with her I love to ride,
When the horse-bells tinkle merrily.

JOHN BKISTED.
John Bristed, who occupied for a number of
years a conspicuous position in New York society
by his mental activity and his literary productions,
was born in Dorsetshire, England, in 1778, the
son of a clergyman of the Established Church. Ho
was educated at Winchester College, pursued the
study of medicine at Edinburgh, then turned his
attention to law, became a member of the society
of the Inner Temple, and as he himself has
phrased it, " during two years of pupillage in the
office of Mr. Chitty, cultivated the melancholy
science of special pleading.'! He published a
number of books at this time. The Adviser,
or the Mora! and Literary Tribunal, in four vo-
lumes, in 18o2, is a collection of essays on topics
of morals addressed to the youth of Great Britain.
His AvSpaiftavoiiivos ; or a Pedestrian Tour
through part of the Highlands of Scotland in
1801, was noticed with some severity in Aikin's
Annual Review,! where avc catch a glimpse of its
plan : — "Mr. Bristed and his companion Dr. An-
drew Cowen travelled through the Highlands in
the character of American sailors. They roam
the country in forma pauperum, descant loudly
on the luxuries of the great and the miseries of
the poor, go from pothouse to pothouse, for hall a

* Poems by the late Doctor John Shaw, to which is prefix-
ed ii Biographical Sketch of the Author. Edward Earle, Phi-
ladelphia, 181(1.

t Thoughts on the Anglican and American Churches, p. 87.

S ii. 408. v

vol. i, — 42

bed, complain of the jealousy of the police
because they are taken up for spies, and of the
frequent inhospitality of the Scots becauso they
were not welcomed as gentlemen."

He also published a collection of Critical and
Philosophical Essays in 1804.

In 1805 he published in London, The Society
of Friends Examined, in which a favorable view
is taken of the peculiarities of the sect; and in
the following year, Edward and Anna, or a Pic-
ture of Human Life.

Mr. Bristed came to America in the spring of
1806, and established himself in the practice of
the law at New York. His practice at the New
York bar did not fully employ him ; for we find
him engaged in the delivery of lectures and the
composition of several books, which did not es-
cape the satire of Halleck in "Fanny."

In 1807 he was engaged in conducting The
Monthly Register, Magazine, and Review of the
United, States, which had been commenced in
Charleston, S. C, in 1805, under the direction of
Stephen Cullen Carpenter, ati ingenious man of
letters, who subsequently edited The Mirror of
Taste, a periodical in Philadelphia, and published
a life of Jefferson.*

In 1809 Mr. Bristed published in New York—
Hints on the National Bankruptcy of Britain,
and on her Resources to maintain the present con-
test with France; in 1811, a volume — The Re-
sources of the British Empire, together with a
view of the probable result of the present contest,
between Britain and France, followed in 1818 by
a similar review of The Resources of the United
States of America ; or a View of the Agricultural,
Commercial, Manufacturing, Financicd, Political,
Literary, Moral, and Religious Capacity and Cha-
racter of the American people. The last is a work
of ability and interest, characterized by tho au-
thor's scholarship, his full animated style, and his
conservative opinions. The chapter on the litera-
ture of the United States is in a philosophical
spirit.

In 1814 he issued " a Prospectus of a scries of
courses of Lectures to he delivered by John Bris-
ted, counsellor-at-law," in an octavo pamphlet of
forty-one pages. There were to he four courses
of at least fifty lectures each ; the first and second
to be addressed to students generally ; tho third
and fourth exclusively to students at law. The
principles of Metaphysics, History, Political
Economy, were the subjects of the first ; their
application to National History, National Govern-
ment, and to Eloquence, oral and written, of the
second; the third was an elementary outline of tho
various legal codes of civilized nations, common,
civil, and international law ; and tho fourth course

* In 1S09 Carpenter published at New York two volumes of
'•Memoirs of Jefferson, containing a concise History of tho
United States from tlic acknowledgment of their Independence,
Willi a view of the Rise and Progress of Fronch Influence, and
French Principles in that country." As the titlo indicates, th:i
work is decidedly anti-Jeffcrsonian. No publisher's name ap-
pears on tlie title-page, but it is "Printed for tho Purchasers."
The " Mirror of Taste and Dramatic Censor" was published in
four volumes by Bradford and Inskeop, -at Philadelphia, in
1810 and 1811. It contained some very clever sketches of
American actors, which were amongst the earliest productions
of the artist Leslie.

In 1815 Carpenter published in Philadelphia two octavo
volumes of " Select American Speeches, Forensic and Parlia-
mentary, wilh Prefatory Remarks: being a sequel to Dr. Chap-
man's ' Select Speeches.' "

658

>

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

was to followthe track of Blackstone. At the con-
clusion he also proposes to devote one evening in
every week " to the explanation of the element-
ary principles of elocution."

He delivered the tame year An Oration on the
Utility of Literary Establishments on occasion
of the opening of Eastburn's Literary Kooms in
New York, — the germ of noble projects since hap-
pily realized in such ample institutions as the
Astor Library and other literary associations of
the tit}-. While a resident of New York he mar-
ried a widow, the daughter of the late millionaire
John Jacob Astor.

Mr. Bristed, always of an earnest mind, en-
gaged deeply in theological studies with the as-
sistance of Bishop Griswold of the eastern dio-
cese. He was ordained, and became an efficient
assistant in organizing the parish of St. Mark's, in
Warren, Rhode Island, and extending Episcopacy
in the state. In 1822 he published his Thoughts
on the Anglican and American- Art glo Churches,
in an octavo volume, which exhibits his preference
of the voluntary system of America over the es-
tablishments of England. It is written in an
earnest evangelical spirit. In 1820 he had suc-
ceeded Bishop Griswold as rector of St. Michael's
church at Bristol, R. I. There he continued to
preach while his health permitted, the last twelve
years of his life' being passed, in consequence of
illness, in retirement from the active duties of
his ministry. He died at his residence at Bristol
Feb. 23, 1855, in his seventy-seventh year.

Mr. Bristed was of an ardent, susceptible tem-
perament, of quick perceptions, enthusiastic in
the pursuit of his convictions, of a strong will, and
of great industry, but lacking at times in judg-
ment. The warmth of his character was shown
in his intimacy with Dr. Mason, in his strong
sympathies with whatever he took in hand, and
in his devotion to the church in which he minis-
tered. He was an earnest preacher, and secured
the attention of his listeners. His style inclined
to over fulness in rhetoric, but it never lacked
matter.

WILLIAM AUSTIN,
A lawyer of Massachusetts, and a writer of
marked individual .temperament, with strong
powers of humor and observation, was born
March 2, 1778. He studied at Harvard, where
his name appears on the list of graduates for 1798.
In 1801, he delivered an oration at Charlestown,
on the anniversary of the Battle of Bunker's Bill,
which was printed.* His Letters from London,
written during the years 1802 and 1803, were
printed in an octavo volume at Boston, in 1804.
The letters are written with ease and elegance,
and show a sprightly inquisitive mind, with a
strong flavor of what was called in that day
"jacobinism," in its judgments of affairs of
church and state. He went to study John Bull,
and amuse himself with his humors, and the

* An Oration, pronounced at Charlestown, at the request of
the Artillery Company, on the 17th June; being the Anniver-
sary of the Battle of Bunker's Hill, and of that Company.

How sleep the brave who sink to rest,
With all their country's honors blest !

Collins.

By William Austin, A.E. Charlestown. Samuel Ethcridge,

1S01.

reader is abundantly entertained with the result
in his lively pages. In his comparison of the
Scotch and English, he remarks of the latter —
" They differ wonderfully from the Scotch in one
particular : a Scot is partial to his fellow-Scotch-
men, with very little fondness for Scotland : an
Englishman is still more partial to England, with
very little fondness for Englishmen." Austin's
opportunities for social observation were con-
siderable, and he has given us pleasant pictures
of his intercourse with leading people at Oxford,
London, and elsewhere. Dining with the fellows
at St. John's, he so impressed them with his
description of the Atlantic cities, that they ex-
pressed a regret " that we were no longer the
same people," upon which he replied with good
humor, " that was their own fault, for the United
States would doubtless accept them as a colony."
He was at a bookseller's dinner with Johnson,
of St. Paul's churchyard, where he met Fuseli.
He visits the venerable Dr. Griffiths, of Monthly
Review memory, at Turnham Green, and talks
with him of the interviews of Hume and Rous-
seau at that spot, and there is a capital account
of a meeting with Holcroft and Dr. Wolcot at
Godwin's residence at Somerstown. Austin had
an eye for character, and hits off his subjects with
felicity. His descriptions of the orators then in
the ascendant in Parliament, Fox, Pitt, Windham,
and others, are of interest. Of Fox we have
this personal description at the Hustings : —

You will expect a description of Mr. Fox, his ap-
pearance and demeanour. You wish to know how
he was dressed, how he stood, and how he looked.
In his youth he is reported to have been as great a
fop as was Aristotle : I will only say, at present, his
appearance wns altogether against him. He looked
as if he had been long in the sea service, and after
many a storm, had retired on half pay. His greasy
buff waistcoat, threadbare blue coat, and weather-
beaten hat, gave him, in connexion with his great
corpulency and dark complexion with short dark
hair hastening to gray, very much the appearance
of a laid up sea captain. He has the countenance
of an ancient Englishman, but long watching has
changed the temperature of health to a dun colour.
He would be thought, at present, by one who did
not know him, to be a noble dispositioned, rather
than a great, man.

About the year 1805, we hear of Austin's being
engaged in a duel with James II. Elliott, growing
out of a political newspaper altercation. The
duel was fought in Rhode Island, and Austin was
slightly wounded.*

In 1807, he published a volume of Unitarian
views, entitled, An Essay on the Human Cha-
racter of Jesus Christ. Some years later, we
find liiiH a contributor to Buckingham's New
England Galaxy of a remarkable legendary tale,
entitled Peter Eugg, the Missing Man. i He also
►wrote the paper, The Late Joseph Natterstrom, in
the first number of the New England Magazine.
These show his fine qualities as a writer.

Austin was eminent at the bar of Suffolk and

* Loring's Boston Orators, p. 8*29. ;

' t It may be found in the Boston Book for 1841. It was re-
printed from the Galaxy in other papers and books, and was,
says Buckingham, " read more than any other communication
that has fallen within my knowledge. It is purely fictitious,
and originated in the inventive genius of its author.'- — Buck-
ingham's Personal Memoirs, i. ST.

EDWARD LIVINGSTON.

659

Middlesex.
1841.

He died at Charlestown, June 27,

A DINNEB WITH GODWIN", nOI.CUOFT, AND WOLCOT — FEOM
TILS LETTEB8 EEOM LONDON.

London, May 15th.

Imagine to yourself a man of short stature, who
has just past the prime of life, whose broad high
forehead is fast retreating to baldness, but whose
ruddy, thoughtful, yet open countenance discovers
both the temperature of health and philosophy :
of manners remarkably mild, unassuming, rather
reserved; in conversation cautious, argumentative,
frequently doubtful, yet modestly courting reply,
more from a desire of truth, than a love of contend-
ing; in his family, affectionate, cordial, accommo-
dating ; to his friends confidential, ready to make
any sacrifice ; to his enemies — you would never
know from Mr. Godwin that lie had an enemy.

Mr. Godwin HveB at Somerstown, about three
miles from the city. His house with us would be
considered neat and simple ; here it is called a
cottage. His study is small, and looks into the
country, his library not extensive, yet sufficiently
large for a man who depends more on his own re-
sources, than on the labours of others. The portrait
of Mary, taken by Northcote, hangs over the fire-
place. This rendered the study one of the most
interesting places I ever visited. Though I have
frequently been in the study, I have only ventured
to look at the portrait. Mr. Godwin is since mar-
ried to a charming woman, who seems devoted to
domestic happiness. He is at present occupied
with his Geoffrey Chaucer, a work of great expec-
tation.

A billet from Mr. Godwin informed me this morn-
ing, that Mr. Holcroft and Dr. Wolcot would dine
there to day.

Mr. Holcroft, though nearly sixty, has suffered
nothing, either from years, laborious mental exer-
tion, or persecution. He has all the activity and
vivacity of youth. Just returned from the conti-
nent, whither lie had voluntarily banished himself
in complaisance to the wishes of the English go-
vernment, he has brought back with him not the
least resentment. Persecution, instead of embit-
tering his disposition, has had that effect, which it
has on all good men. A villain will always hate
mankind in proportion to his knowledge of the
world ; a good man, on the contrary, will increase
in philanthropy.

Literature is not a little honoured, when one
of her votaries, leaving a mechanical employment
at a period of life when habit is usually become
nature, has successfully holden the pen and realised
a handsome support. Still more charming is it to
see her votaries giving proofs of the strongest I
friendship. Holcroft and Godwin are firm friends. I
A striking likeness of the former, by Northcote, is I
in the dining-room.

Dr. Wolcot, in appearance, is a genuine John
Bull, and until he opens his mouth, you would little
suspect his relationship to the poet of Thebes. He
is a portly man, rather unwieldy, and I believe not
in haste to leave his chair when he is pleased with
his seat. He is hastening to old age, and seems dis-
posed to make the most, of life he can. There is
little similarity of character between Wolcot and
Godwin. They are both constant in mental exer-
tion ; but the oie prefers to sit on a silver cloud,
and lie wafted through the four quarters of the
world, looking down on all the varieties of nature,
and the follies of man. The other, possessed of the
nicest moral feelings, loves to envelope himself in
darkness and abstraction, in order to contemplate

whatever is just, fit. or useful. The one, laughing,
dressed in the gaiety of spring, enters society with
the pruning hook ; the other, more serious, labours
with the ploughshare. Holcroft. who never began
to think until his reasoning powers had come to
maturity, owing to a neglect of education, embar-
rassed by no system, follows the dictates of his own
mind, and if he is sometimes erroneous, the error is
all his own, it is never a borrowed error. Hence,
his conversation, embellished by the variety of life
which he has seen, is rendered rich, brilliant,
original, and impressive.

********
Wolcot, like most men of genius, has a contempt
for mere scholars, who, walking on the stilts of
pedantry, imagine themselves a head taller than
other folks. The talents of a certain famous man
being questioned, Wolcot observed — He was not a
man of genius, but a man of great capacity, and
said, if we would attend to him, he would dis-
tinguish between the learned man, the man of
capacity, and the man of genius. — " Here," said he,
" Ave will suppose a quantity of coins, ducats, pis-
toles, dollars, guineas, on this table. The learned
man will be able, after thumbing his dictionaries
for half an hour, to tell you the names of these coins
in all languages. The man of capacity will go
further, and tell you the value of each, and the
amount of the whole together, with every thing
relative to their use, difference of exchange and
o-igin. But who invented these coins ? The man
of genius." This gave general satisfaction. How-
ever, it was replied, and I thought very justly, That
unless the man of genius should acquire capacity,
his genius without capacity would be less useful,
than capacity without genius. For, the exertion of
genius is rare. God does not every day create a
world : and although genius may claim a higher
prerogative than capacity, they are mutually in-
debted to each other. If genius gives employ to
capacity, not unfrequently does capacity give direc-
tion and result to genius.

Adieu.

EDWARD LIVINGSTON
Was of the same family with Governor William
Livingston of New Jersey, was the brother of
Robert R. Livingston, the Chancellor of the State
of New York, the friend of Fulton, and negotiator
of the purchase of Louisiana, and also closely al-
lied, by marriages with his family, to General
Montgomery and General Armstrong. He was
born at Clermont in the Livingston Manor, on
the Hudson, in New York, in 1764; was educated
at Princeton, and studied law with his brother,
the chancellor. Admitted to the bar in 1785, he
was engaged in his profession at New York till
1794, when he was elected to Congress from
Queens and Richmond counties. He then took
under his charge the reform of the criminal law,
one of the objects to which he especially there-
after devoted himself.* Returning to New York
lie was appointed by Jefferson United States Dis-
trict Attorney, while he was at the same time
elected to the mayoralty of the city. In the dis-
charge of the duties of the latter office he encoun-
tered witli intrepidity and diligence the visitation
of the yellow fever at New York in 1803.* In

* Dem. Eov.. p. 3G9.

f New York was vi?itedby the fever in the summer of 1803.
Livingston then resided at STo. 1 Broadway. As Chairman of
the Board of Health, Livingston was indefatigable in lmexer-

CGO

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

this year Livingston published a volume of Judi-
cial Opinions delivered in the Mayor's Co,urtof
the City of New York in 1802. It contains thir-
ty-nine cases, nearly all of them, saj-s Judge Daly,
upon questions of importance.* In 1804 he took
up his residence in New Orleans, where he be-
came distinguished in his legal profession, and was
elected to the state legislature, rendering various
services to the state in its then unsettled condi-
tion in legal matters, by his code of procedure and
other adjustments of judicial regulations. A per-
sonal controversy concerning the' batture at New
Orleans having arisen between him and President
Jefferson, and the latter having published in 1812
a pamphlet on the subject, Livingston in 1814
published an elaborate reply, distinguished by its
literary merits not less than by its argumentative
power.

On the defence of the city resulting in the
battle of New Orleans, he was of great service to
General Jackson, who freely used his pen and
counsel, having appointed him his military secre-
tary and aide.

In 1821 he was enabled to further his views of
legal reform by the commission which he received
from the General Assembly of the state to draw
and prepare a criminal code. His report, on this
subject, made the following year, met the ap-
proval of the legislature, was reprinted in London
in 1824, and published in a French translation in
Paris. He subsequently completed this import-
ant work in his System of a Penal Code for the
State of Louisiana. His general Code embraced
four distinct divisions : — A Code of Crimes and
Punishments ; a Code of Procedure ; a Code of
Evidence ; and a Code of Reform and Prison Dis-
cipline^ He also presented the result of bis la-
bors to the House of Representatives of the Uni-
ted States in his System of Penal Laws for the
United States of America, published by the Go-
vernment in folio in 1828. In his theory of
prison discipline he advocated to a certain extent
the system of solitary confinement and labor,
while he sought the means of reformation as well
as punishment in efforts for the education and
improvement of the culprit, and carefully gra- '
duated the degrees of the penitentiary and other
remedial systems. The style in which these views
are set forth is as clear and simple as the ideas
are humane. In regard to capital punishment he
followed the humane suggestions of Beccaria, and
recommended to the Legislature of Louisiana,
" that the punishment of death should find no
place in the code which you have directed me to

tions for the relief and comfort of the Pick at the hospitals, and
in-his attentions to arrest the progress of the disease within
the city. From his official visits to Bclleviie Hospital he was
exposed daily to the infection and eventually took the dis-
order. No professional nurses could be obtained, and the
whole care of him, independently of his physicians, fell upon
Captain Wolstoneeraft of the artillery, who commanded upon
Governor's Island, Mods. Delabigarre, a French gentleman,
married and settled in New York, and judge W. A. Duer, theu
Livingston's law partner, to whom we are indebted for this
reminiscence. To the attentions of these friends, not less
than to the skill of medical attendants, Livingston attributed
his recovery.

* Historical Sketch of the Judicial Tribunals of New York
from 1623 to 1S4B, by Charles P. Daly, one of the Judges of the
New York Common Pleas, 1S55. A work of diligent and ac-
curate research', and in an excellent vein of local investigation
and legal inquiry.

t Ah analysis of these labors of Livingston will be found in
two articles in the ninth volume of tho Democratic P.eview.

present."* His argument on this subject is pre-
sented with equal ingenuity and eloquence.

From 1823 to 1829 he represented his district
in the House of Representatives of the United
States.

In 1829 Livingston was elected to the Senate
of the United States, and in 1831 entered the
cabinet of Jackson as Secretary of State. It was
while lie held this office that Jackson's celebrated
proclamation against the nullifiers of South Caro-
lina was issued. Two years later he was sent as
Minister to France, where he was engaged in the
difficult negotiation as to the payment of the in-
demnity. Returning to America in the summer
of 1835, he died at his familv-seat on the Hudson,
at Red Hook, May 23, 1836*t

An estimate of Livingston's personal and lite-
rary character is given in the following words,
attributed to his friend Andrew Jackson, by Au-
guste Davezac : —

" I once had the opportunity of hearing Jack-
son speak of the origin of his intimacy with Liv-
ingston. ' I felt myself suddenly attracted to-
wards him,' he said, 'by the gentleness of his
manners ; the charm of his conversation, gay
without frivolity, instructive without the osten-
tation of instructing ; by the profound acquaint-
ance he already possessed of the theories of so-
ciety, and of the laws in their relation to the cha-
racters of nations ; by his unlimited confidence in
the sagacity of the people, and of their capability
of self-government through the agency of repre-
sentatives specially instructed to express the opi-
nion of their constituents on great questions of
general interest, still more than on those of local
concern ; and above all by that lovely and holy
philanthropy which impelled him from his youth
to mitigate the severity of those penal laws
whose cruelties serve only to inspire in the masses
a ferocity that always maintains an equilibrium
with that of the laws which govern them.,' "J

Davezac was the brother-in-law of Livingston,
and earnestly devoted to his memory. He pre-
pared a volume of Reminiscences of Livingston, a
portion of which was published in the Demo-
cratic Review, to which, about 1840, he was a
frequent contributor.!

ZEBULON MONTGOMERY PIKE,

Tire national explorer of the territory west of the
Mississippi, and a gallant soldier of the second

* Project of a New Penal Code for the State of Louisiana.
Lond. ed., p. 89

t Biographic Universelle, Supplement, Art. Livingston.

t Dcrii. Rev. viii. 370.

§ Davezac was a native of St. Domingo, of French parentage,
received a military education in France, came to the United
States in his youth, studied medicine in North Carolina; on
the acquisition of Louisiana, settled at New Orleans; became
intimate with Livingston, who married his sister; received a
new direction to the law, and became a highly successful advo-
cate in criminal causes. He was aide to Jackson at the battle
of New Orleans, and afterwards engaged in political life, for
which his ready French eloquence gave him facilities with the
people. Jackson gave him the appointment of charge to the
Hague, where he passed the years from 1SS1 to 1839. Return4
ing then to New York, where he took up his residence, he was
elected to the state legislature in 1S41 and 1S43. Having aided
the election of Polk, by taking the field as a political cam-
paigner, he was re-appointed to the Hague in 1S45, and held
the post till ISdQ. He died not long after his return to Ame-
rica, in New Yo k.

He was an eloquent speaker in the warm florid style, a man
of humor, and of brilliant conversational powers.

JOEL R. POINSETT.

G31

war with England, was a native of New Jersey,
born at Lamaton, January 5, 1779. His father
was a soldier before him, and he followed his foot-
steps by entering the army at an early age. Whoa
Louisiana was obtained from France he was em-
ployed in 1805 in a government survey of the
new territory, in its western portions. He em-
barked from St. Louis in August of that }Tear, and
traversed for nearly nine months the Indian coun-
try of the North-west, adopting a conciliatory
policy among the Indians and British traders of
the region. In July, 1806, he set out on another
expedition, the object of which was the restora-
tion of some Osage captives, who had been taken
in war by a hostile tribe, to their nation. This
accomplished, he pursued his survey of Western
Louisiana. Winter overtook him, and his party
suffered severely. He unwittingly passed the
boundaries of the Spanish provinces and was tak-
en a prisoner and carried to Chihuahua, whence
he was soon dismissed, and in July of 1807 ar-
rived at Natchitoches. He published his Account
of Expeditions to the Sources of the Mississippi,
ami through the Western Parts of Louisiana,
from 1805 to 1807, and a Tour through the Inte-
rior Parts of Ne;o Spain, when conducted through
these Provinces by order of the Captain-General
in the year 1807, in Philadelphia, in 1810. It is
in the form of a diary, with an appendix of geo-
graphicd and other disquisitions.

On th.e breaking out of the war with England
in 1813 he received a colonel's command, and the
next year was appointed a brigadier-general. He
led the laud expedition in the attack upon York,
Upper Canada. He bravely stormed the defences,
but was mortally wounded at the moment of sur-
render by the enemy's explosion of their maga-
zine. He was carried to Commodore Chauncey's
vessel on the lake, where he died in the arms of
victory, with the captured British flag folfel un-
der his head. He thus fell April 27, 1813, at the
age of thirty-four.

He possessed some accomplishments in litera-
ture. Though self-taught, he had made conside-
rable progress in the foreign languages and the
mathematics. Dodsley's publication; "The Eco-
nomy of Human Life," was a favorite with him
for its moral maxims — to which he made some
additions in his copy presented to his wife shortly
after his marriage.

JOEL R. POINSETT.
Joel R. Poinsett was born in Charleston, S. C,
March 2, 1779, of a Huguenot family of distinc-
tion in the state. He was educated by Dr.
D wight, at Greenfield, Ct. At seventeen he wa.s
sent to England, where he was taught the classics
at a school near London; next studied medicine
at Edinburgh, and to recruit his health made the
tour of Europe, engaging before his return to
America in the study of military affairs, for which
he hud a special aptitude. In 1800, at the age
of twenty-one, he came home with a strong desire
to enter the army, but was induced by bis father
to become a student of Jaw. His studies were,
however, interrupted by new schemes of European
travel induced by ill-health, which he pursued
with the advantages of wealth, family influence,
and a happy natural disposition, facile to receive
and pleasant in the communication of knowledge.

He travelled through Switzerland on foot, visited
Italy and Sicily, and the Austrian empire. The
death of his father recalled him to America; but
he speedily resumed his travels, extending his jour-
ney to St. Petersburgh, where he was warmly
received by the Emperor Alexander, who was
much impressed by his military capacity, and who
offered him a command in his service. He then
travelled through the Russian empire to the
country of the Calmuck Tartars, visited Persia
and the region of the Caspian, meeting with adven-
tures which proved his courage, among the tribes
of that region. Returning to Europe, lie received
the first decided intimation of the breaking out of
the second war of the United States with Eng-
land at Paris, and soon presented himself in
America to President Madison, with a request for
employment in the army. While the necessary
arrangements wore pending, he received a com-
mission to visit South America and inquire into
the relation of the new Republics. He sailed to
Rio, crossed the Andes to Chili, and visited Peru.
The authorities of the latter state, on a rumor of
Spain having declared war with the United States,
seized the American whale ships .at Talcahuano, a
port of Chili. This aggression, Poinsett met in
person, taking himself the command of a small
force put at his disposal by the Chilian govern-
ment, and promptly rescuing the American
vessels. He was at Valparaiso during Porter's
heroic conflict in the Essex with the Phcebe and
Cherub, which he witnessed. The refusal of the
British officer to let him proceed homewards by
sea compelled him to cross the snow-covered
Andes in the month of April. At Buenos Ayres
similar difficulties of egress offered, but he got off
privately by a Portuguese vessel to Bahia, and
thence to Madeira, where he heard that peace
had been declared.

On his return to South Carolina he was elected
to the State Legislature, where he interested him-
self in utilitarian projects, securing the construc-
tion of the important road in the state over the
Saluda Mountain. In 1821, he took his seat in
Congress for the Charleston district, and was
twice re-elected. He discharged an important
mission to Mexico in 1822, under President
Monroe, during the brief imperial reign of Itur-
bide, of which lie published an account. He sub-
sequently, in 1825, returned to the country as
Minister Plenipotentiary under the administra-
tion of Adams, where he maintained his personal
independence with spirit and courage during some
scenes of peculiar difficulty growing out of the
revolutionary movements of the times. He re-
turned home in 1829 to his native state, to become
the leader of the Union party, and on his acces-
sion was called by Van Buren to the head of the
War Department. At the close of this period, in
1841, he delivered a spirited discourse on the
Promotion of Science at the first Anniversary of
the National Institution. He afterwards lived in
retirement, writing occasionally upon topics of a
practical character. He died at Statesburg, S. O,
Dec. 14, 1351*

The writings of Poinsett grew out of his active
career. His Notes on Mexico, made in 1822, with
an Historical Sketch of the Revolution, published

• De nooratio Review, i. 301-303 : 443-430.

CC2

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

in Philadelphia in 1824, is the most important.
It is a book of value, a personal narrative origi-
nally written in letters to a friend, and in its
description of manners and customs, one of the
best of the period when it was written, particu-
larly in its study of the national character. In
these respects it remained a valuable authority
till its interest was diminished by the shifting
relations of the country.

In 1846, a somewhat similar work of sound
political judgment appeared from the pen of
AVaddy Thompson of the same state, the Recollec-
tions of Mexico, which is of historical importance
for its sober representation of the estimate in
which Mexico was held by intelligent citizens of
the United States, on the eve of the war which
resulted in the annexation of the vast territory on
the Pacific.

Poinsett was also the author of several essays
and orations on topics of manufacturing and
agricultural industry. He 'had also considerable
taste for art, and was the founder of an Academy
of the Fine Arts at Charleston, which existed for
several years.

CLEMENT C. MOOEE
Was born in New York July 15, 1779. He re-
ceived Ids early education in Latin and Greek from
his father, the Bishop of the Protestant Episcopal
Chnrch in New York, and in 1798 became a gra-
duate of Columbia College. After leaving college
Mr. Moore devoted himself with much success to
the study of Hebrew, the result of which was sub-
sequent]}' made public in his Hebrew and English
Lexicon, published in 1809, 2 vols. To Dr.
Moore, therefore, belongs the high merit of having
been the pioneer in this country in the depart-
ment of Hebrew Lexicography. "When the work
was prepared for the press a difficulty arose from
the want of Hebrew type. Atter some delay a
fount was obtained from Philadelphia. The first
volume contains a complete vocabulary to the
Psalms, with an appendix of notes; the second a
brief general lexicon, arranged in alphabetical or-
der, with a grammar of the language annexed.
Though now super.-eded by more ample and cri-
tical productions this little work was, as the
" compiler hopes" for it, " of some service to his
young countrymen in breaking down the impedi-
ments which present themselves at the entrance
of the study of Hebrew," and establishes for the
city of St. Nicholas the earlier title to successful
efforts for the study of the venerable language of
the older dispensation. In 1821 he accepted
the appointment of " Professor of Biblical Learn-
ing, the department of the interpretation of
Scripture being added," in the General Theolo-
gical Seminary of the Episcopal Church. "When
that institution was united with the Diocesan
State Seminary his Professorship was entitled that
of " Hebrew and Greek Literature," and was not
long afterwards altered to that of " Oriental and
Greek Literature." From his family inheritance
he made a most important gift to the seminar)- of
the body of land in the city of New York on which
it is located, comprehending the entire space be-
tween Ninth and Tenth avenues and Twentieth
and Twenty-first streets, with the water-right on
the Hudson belonging to it.

Professor Moore has lightened his learned la-

bors in the seminary by the composition of nu-
merous poems from time to time, chiefly expres-

[ollMWrJr \o,Jmon,.

sions of home thoughts and affections, with a turn
for humor as well as sentiment, the reflections of
a genial, amiable nature. They were collected
by the author in a volume in 1844, which he de-
dicated to his children. Though occasional com-
positions they are polished in style, the author
declaring in his preface that he does not pay his
readers " so ill a compliment as to offer the con-
tents of this volume to their view as the mere
amusements of my idle hours; effusions thrown
off without care or meditation, as though the re-
fuse of my thoughts were good enough for them.
On the contrary, some of the pieces have cost
me much time and thought ; and I have composed
them all as carefully and correctly as I could."
The longest of these poems is entitled A Trip to
Saratoga, a pleasant narrative and sentimental
account of a family journey. Others are very
agreeable vers de societe, commonly associated
with some amusing theme. One, a sketch of an
old Dutch legend greatly cherished in all genuine
New York families, has become a general favorite
wherever it is known. It is

A VISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS.

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through

the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse :
The stockings were hung by the chimney with earc,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there ;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And Mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap ;
AVhen out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new- fallen mow,
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
"When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh; and eight tiny rein-deer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them hy

name;
" Now, Dasher ! now, Dancer ! now, Prancer, and

Vixen I
On, Comet I on, Cupid ! on, Donder and Dlitzen !
To the top of the porch ! to the top of the wall !
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all !"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly.
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky ;
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof —
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot.
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and

soot ;

FRANCIS SCOTT KEY.

603

A bundle of toys lie had flung on his back,

And lie looked like a pedlar just opening his pack.

His eyes — how tliey twinkled ! his dimples how

merry !
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry I
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow ;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath ;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself ;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head.
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread ;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings ; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
" Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night."

F. S KEY.
Francis Scott Key was born in Frederick County,
Maryland, August 1, 1779. His father, John
Ross Key, an officer in the army in the Revolu-
tionary war, was a descendant from some of the
earliest settlers of the province.

The son was educated at St. John's College,
Annapolis, and, after completing his course,
studied law in the office of his uncle, Philip B.
Key, at Annapolis, and, in 1801, commenced the
practice of the profession at Fredericktown, in his
native county. Some years after he removed to
Washington, where he became District Attorney
of the city, and there remained until his death,
January 11, 18-13.

Mr. Key was the author, in addition to the Star-
Spangled Banner, of a few other songs and devo-
tional pieces. His poems were written without
any view to publication, on some passing topic for
his own and the gratification of his friends. They
were noted down on odd scraps of paper, backs of
letters, &c, a piece of several verses being often
on as many separate slips of paper, and were
6eldom revised by the author.

We are indebted for a copy of the Star-Spangled
Banner from the author's manuscript, and for the
Hymn for the Fourth of July, and the Song
written on the return of Decatur, both of which
are now for the first time printed, to the poet's
son-in-law, Mr. Charles Howard, of Baltimore.

■When the warrior returns from the battle afar,
To the home and the country he nobly defended,
Oh ! warm be the welcome to gladden his ear,
And loud be the joy that his perils are ended.
In the full tide of song let his name roll along,
To the feast flowing board let us gratefully throng,
Where mixed with the olive the laurel shall wave,
And form a bright wreath for the brows of the brave.

Columbians ! a band of thy brothers behold,

Who claim the reward of thy hearts' warm emotion,

When thy cause, when thine honor urged onward

the bold,
In vain frowned the desert, in vain raged the

ocean.
To a far distant shore, to the battle's wild roar,
They rushed, thy fair fame and thy rights to secure ;
Then mixed with the olive the laurel shall wave,
And form a bright wreath for the brows of the brave.

In the conflict resistless each toil they endured,
' fill their foes fled dismayed from the war's desolation ;
And pale beamed the crescent, its splendor obscured
By the light of the star-spangled flag of our nation.
Where each radiant star gleamed a meteor of war,
And the turbaned heads bowed to its terrible glare,
Now mixed with the olive the laurel shall wave,
And form a bright wreath for the brow of the brave.

Our fathers who stand on the summit of fame,
Shall exultingly hear of their sons the proud story,
How their young bosoms glowed with the patriot

flame,
How they fought, how they fell, in the blaze of their

glory.
How triumphant they rode o'er the wondering flood,
And stained the blue waters with Infidel blood;
How mixed with the olive the laurel did wave,
And formed a bright wreath for the brows of the brave.

Then welcome the warrior returned from afar
To the home and the country he nobly defended,
Let the thanks due to valor now gladden his ear,
And loud be the joys that his perils are ended.
In the full tide of song let his fame roll along,
To the feast flowing board let us gratefully throng,
Where mixed with the olive the laurel shall wave,
And form a bright wreath for the brows of the brave.

THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER.*

Oh! say can you see by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's lasl

gleaming —
Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the

perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly

streaming !
And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air.
Gave proof through the night that our flag was

still there ;
0 ! Bay does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the laud of the free, and the home of the brave !

On that shore dimly seen through the mists of the

deep,
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence

reposes,
What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering

steep,
As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses ?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam.
In full glory reflected^ now shines on the stream;

* This song was composed under the following circumstances :
— A gentleman had left Baltimore, with a flag of truce, for the
purpose of petting released from the British fleet a friend of
ids, who had been captured at Marlborough. He went as far as
the mouth of the Patu.\ent, and was not permitted to return,
lest the intended attack on Baltimore should be disclosed. He
was then-fore brought up the bay to the mouth of the Palapsco.
where the flag-vessel was kept under the guns of a frigate;
and he was compelled to witness the bombardment of Fort
M'Henry, which the Admiral had boasted lie would carry in a
few hours, and that the city must fall. He watched the flap at
the fort through the whole day. with an anxiety that can be
better felt than described, until the night prevented him
from seeing it. In the night he watched tlio bomb-shells, and
at early dawn his eye was again greeted by the flag of his
country. — M'Carti/u National Sonys, lii. 225.

664

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

Tis the star-spangled banner, 0 long may it wave
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave.

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore
That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion
A home and a country should leave us no more?
Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps'

pollution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave ;
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave.

Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand
Between their loved homes and the war's desolation,
Blest with victory and peace, may the heaven-
rescued land
Praise the power that hath made and preserved us a

nation.
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto — " In God is our trust" —
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave.

nYMN FOK TI1E FOURTH OF JULY.

Before the Lord we bow,

The God who reigns above,
And rules the world below,
Boundless in power and love.
Our thanks we bring,
In joy and praise,
Our hearts we raise,
To Heaven's bright King.

The nation thou hast blest

May well thy love declare,
From foes ami fears at rest,
Protected by thy care.

For this fair land,
For this bright day,
Our thanks we pay,
Gifts of thy hand.

Our fathers 6ought thee, Lord,

And on thy help relied ;
Thou heardest, and gavest the word,
And all their needs supplied.
Led by thy hand
To victory,
They hailed a free
And rescued land.

God of our lives ! that hand
Be now as then displayed,
To give this favored land
Thy never-failing aid.
Still may it be
Thy fixed abode !
Be thou our God,
Thy people we.

May every mountain height,
Each vale and forest green,
Shine in thy word's pure light,
And its rich fruits be seen !
May every tongue
Be tuned to praise,
And join to raise
A grateful song.

Earth ! hear thy Maker's voice,

The great Redeemer own ;
Believe, obey, rejoice,

Bright is the promised crown.
Cast down thy pride,
Thy sin deplore,
And bow before
The Crucified.

And when in power He comes,

0 may our native land,
From all its rending tombs,
Send forth a glorious band.
A countless throng,
Ever to sing,
To Heaven's high King,
Salvation's song.

AMERICAN ACADEMY OF AET8.
The American Academy of Arts and Sciences
was founded at Boston, 1780, and was the second
institution of its class in the country. Its objects,
as expressed in its charter, are "to promote and
encourage the knowledge of the antiquities of
America, and of the natural history of the coun-
try, and to determine the uses to which the va-
rious natural productions of the country may be
applied, to promote and encourage medical dis-
coveries, mathematical disquisitions, philosophical
inquiries and experiments, meteorological and
geographical observations and improvements in
agriculture, arts, manufactures, and commerce ;
and, in fine, to cultivate every art and science
which may tend to advance the interest, honor,
dignity, and happiness of a free, independent, and
virtuous people."

The number of members cannot be less than
forty or more than two hundred, and four stated
meetings are to be held every year.

The Presidency of the institution has been held
in succession by the following eminent gentlemen :
James Bowdoin, John Adams, Edward A. Holy-
oke, John Q. Adams, Nathaniel Bowditch, and
John Pickering, all of whom have been already
noticed in these pages. We have also spoken of
Count Rumford,* whose foundation by bequest of
a fund, in the control of the Academy, for the
encouragement of researches in heat and light, has
been of material service in advancing its objects.
The first volume of Memoirs was published in
1785. Four volumes have since appeared, all of a
uniform quarto size. Among the contributors we
meet with the names of President Kirkland, J. E.
Worcester, Nuttail the ornithologist, Dr. Holyoke,
James Bowdoin, President Wiilard, and Professor
Williams of Harvard, James Winthrop, Jeremy
Belknap, Caleb Gannett, Edward Wigglesworth,
NoaliWebster,Theopbihis Pai>ons, the Rev. Joseph
M'Kean, President of Bowdoin College, Dr. Bow-
ditch, Professor John Farrar, Thaddeus Mason
Hams, Benjamin Pierce, John Pickering, and
David H. Storer. Dr. Jacob Bigelow i* at pre-
sent the presiding officer of the society. A.
donation of $10,000 has been recently received
from the executors of the late Samuel Appleton,
being part of a fund bequeathed by that gentle-
man to public objects.

SIMON GEEENLEAF.
Tins eminent legal writer was born in Newbury -
port, Mass., December 5, 1783. His father was
a captain in the Revolutionary army, and on his
mother's side he was connected with the family
of the late Chief Justice Parsons. While he was
yet quite young, his father removed to Maine, and
when he was eighteen years old, he entered as a
law student the office of Ezekiel Whitman, Esq.,

Ante, p. 371.

BEVERLEY TUCKER.

605

of New Gloucester — since Chief Justice of Maine
— where he remained three years. In 1800 he
married, and began the practice of the law in
Standish, Maine, whence, after a residence of six
months, he removed to Gray, where he remained
twelve years. In 1818 he removed to Portland.
In 1820, upon Maine becoming a state, and the
establishment of the Supreme Court, he was ap-
pointed Reporter of its decisions. He held that
office until 1832, when he was superseded by a
political opponent. His reports, and especially
the later volumes, are considered by the profession
models of judicial reports. He was at this time
one of the foremost of the Maine bar, and had an
extensive practice. He remained in Portland one
year afterwards, and in 1833, upon the death of
Professor Ashmun, he was appointed Royal Pro-
fessor of Law in the Dane Law School, which
office he held until 1 846, when he was transferred
to the Dane Professorship, then vacant by the
death of Judge Story. He held this professorship
but two years, when, in 1848, his failing strength
becoming wholly unequal to its accumulated and
poorly requited labors, he resigned the place. His
release from care and toil was followed by an im-
mediate amendment of his health; and he was
enabled to devote himself to the preparation of
his law books.

The Law School at Cambridge is indebted for its
success to no one of its many able professors more
than to Mr. Greenleaf. Before Judge Story and
Mr. Greenleaf united their labors, it had been made
a respectable school by the efforts of Stearns and
Ashmun. The extended and well deserved repu-
tation of Judge Story as a jurist and a profound
lawyer, attracted large numbers of young men to
the school, and by his glow and fervor, he awakened
in them a-pirations for the higher attainments of
the profession ; but it was the gentle and affection-
ate, yet decided and controlling, manner of Mr.
Greenleaf, who had always the direction of the
internal ai Fairs of the school, and for many months
in eacli year during the absence of Judge Story
at Washington, and on his circuits, its entire con-
trol and management and instruction, which,
connected with the respect which his extensive
learning, his extraordinary aptness to teach, and
his power of attracting and holding the attention
of the students, kept the young men together,
satisfied and harmonious. By all those who had
the good fortune to be his pupils, his death is felt
as a personal loss.

Before coming to Cambridge, Mr. Greenleaf
was an author of law books. Besides his reports,
nine volumes in number, he published in 1821 a
volume of over-ruled cases; in 1842 the first
vcl ime of his work on Evidence ; in 1846 the
second volume; and in 1853 the third and con-
cluding volume. The first volume has reached the
seventh edition; the second, the fourth ; and the
third, the second edition. In 1846 be published
an annotated edition of Cruise's Digest of Real
Law. Of his position as a iaw writer, a distin-
guished judge has said:, "Among those eminent
lawyers who have never held judicial station, the
name and opinion of Mr. Greenleaf stand highest
as authority in all matters of law. He gained this
high position by incessant and devoted labor in
his profession." He also published in 1846 a
volume entitled, An Examination of the Testi-

mony of the Four Evangelists by the Rules of
Evidence administered in the Courts of Justice,
with an Account of the Trial of Jesus. The pre-
paration of this was begun as early as 1817, and
it has been republished in England.

Besides these works, he published others of less
size and importance, and of more temporary
value, and he also contributed not unfrequently to
periodical literature.

He was never a politician. He was once elected
to the Maine legislature, but there, devoted him-
self chiefly to amendments of the statute law of
the state.

He was an upright man and a devout Christian.
His death was sudden. He retired to rest in per-
fect health ; was soon seen to be ailing ; medical
aid was called, but before it arrived he had gone
to his long sleep. He left the wife of his youth a
widow ; and of a large family of children, two
sons and two daughters survive him*

BEVEELEY TUCKER,

The son of the eminent jurist, St. George Tucker,
was born at Matoax, Virginia, Sept. 6, 1784.
He was educated at Williamsburgh, where his
father took up his residence in the sou's child-
hood. Having completed his course at William
and Maiy, he prosecuted the study of the law ;
married in 1809, and removed to Charlotte
county, where he resided till his removal to Mis-
souri in 1815, of which state he became a resi-
dent, and where he was appointed judge.

•€? y^c

li^r j

He passed fifteen years in the West, when he re-
turned to Virginia. On the Fourth of July, 1834,
he was elected by the Board of Visitors to the
professorship of law in William and Mary Col-
lege,, which he held till his death, which occurred
on a summer tour in the state at Winchester, Au-
gust 26, 1851.

The writings of Judge Tucker are, his work on
Pleading, his lectures on Government, his three
novels of George Balcombe, the Partisan Leader,
and Gertrude, and his contributions to the South-
ern Review. He had begun shortly before his
death a life of his relative, John Randolph, and
also left among his unfinished MSS. parts of a
dramatic production.

We are indebted to a lettelWrom his intimate
friend William Gihnore Simms, for the follow-
ing familiar notices of his character and writings.
" He was a brave old Virginia gentleman, a stern
States Right Doctrinaire, intense of feeling, jea-
lous of right, and with an eager sense of wrong and
injury. He was jealous as a politician, like his
brother John Randolph, and had many of the
characteristics of that fiery politician, as his
speech at the Nashville Convention witnesses,
where his invective, more elaborate and polished
than that of Randolph, was quite as terrible. His

* Wo are indebted for this notice to the obituary of the
American Almanac for 1S55. It is evidently prepared by ono
who knew Judge Greenleaf, and we have preserved its lan-
guage entire.

GG6

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE

political tenets are fully displayed in his Lectures
on Government.

" In his style I regard him as one of the hest
prose writers in the United States, at once rich,
flowing, and classical ; ornate and copious,yet pure
and chaste ; full of energy, yet full of grace ; in-
tense, yet stately ; passionate, yet never with a
forfeiture of dignity.

" His novel of George Balcomheisabold, highly
spirited, and very graceful border story, true to the
life, a fine picture of society and manners on the
frontier — animated and full of interest. It lacked
color or warmth of tone, wanting the softening
effects of fancy, though not without imagination.
Rea-on was his predominant faculty. There was
a sternness in his writings, a directness and an in-
tensity, which show the author disdainful in the
pursuit of his object of all the flowers of the way-
side. When he deals with the pathetic, he rather
sports with it. This is the. one chief qualification
of the merits of the book, which is one of the most
vigorous of American novels as a narrative of ac-
tion and the delineation of mental power."

The Partisan Leader* is a curious anticipative
political history, published in 1837; the scene is
laid in Virginia in 1849, twelve years ahead.
Van Buren is represented in his third presiden-
tial term at the head of a consolidated govern-
ment, with the forms of a republic and the powers
of a monarchy. The Southern states, with the
exception of Virginia, have seceded. Its design
was to show what the novelist thought fit to
suppose the probable effects of the Van Buren
party continuing in power, in the destruction of
the Constitution, the dissolution of the Union, and
the conflict of small Republics which would fol-
low.

Gertrude, an original novel, appeared in the
Southern Literary Messenger, for 1844-45.

Of Professor Tucker's discharge of his college du-
ties at William and Mary, we learn from Professor'
Totten that his force of character "made a strong
impression on the minds of his pupils. Thegreater
part adopted his views on all subjects in which
he instructed- them. He had an original and
what might be called an executive mind. He
was exceedingly happy in his illustrations, and
seldom presented the most common idea in the
same form with others. His conversation had in
consequence an unusual attraction. He had a
warm heart, was cordially loved by his friends,
and as cordially hated by his enemies.

" Christianity occupied his attention greatly in
his later years. He wrote down his seasonings
as he advanced in the investigation. He gave me
these papers to read, and I was much interested
in tracing the progress of a powerful and original
intellect in its course from doubt to the most
child-like confiding faith. For many years pre-
ceding his death, he was a devout and exemplary
Christian."!

HENEY COLMAN.

Hexky Colman, a prominent writer on agricul-
ture, was born in Boston, September 12, 1785.
After completing his collegiate course at L>art-

* The Partisan Leader, a Tale of the Future, by Edward Wil-
liam Svdney. Washington Citv. James Cuxton, 1S37.
t MS. Letter of Prof. Silas Totten, March 15, 1S65.

mouth in 1805, he studied theology, and was
ordained June 17, 1807, minister of a Congrega-
tional church at Hingham, where he was also
engaged as the teacher of a school. In 1820 he
resigned his charge and removed to Boston, where
he remained, principally employed as a teacher,
until February, 1825, when he removed to Salem
to take charge of a new Unitarian church and
congregation formed for the express purpose of
securing his services. He remained in this place,
performing its functions with great acceptability,
and increasing his already extensive reputation
as a preacher, until his resignation in consequence
of ill health, December, 1831.

Mr. Colman now established himself on a farm
on the banks of the Connecticut, and gave his
whole attention to his favorite pursuit of agricul-
ture. The reputation of his experiments and suc-
cessful culture, and of his contributions to agri-
cultural journals, became extended, and on the
establishment of an agricultural commissioner by
the state of Massachusetts, he was appointed to
the office by Governor Everett.

Mr. Colman pursued the duties of this trust with
unwearied energy and industry, and after an ex-
tensive tour throughout the state, and the publi-
cation of several Reports, in the autumn of 1842
sailed for Europe to continue his investigations.
The ensuing six years were passed in a tour through
Great Britain and the continent, the results of
which were given to the public on his return in
1848 in his Agriculture and Rural Economy of
France, Belgium, Holland, and Switzerland;
European Agriculture and Sural Economy, two
volumes ; and European Life and Manners in Let-
ters to Friends, two volumes, works which exhibit
to advantage his powers as a writer as well as
observer.

In 1849 Mr. Colman returned to Europe in the
hope of restoring his health, which had now be-
come much impaired. The result was unsuccess-
ful, as his death occurred soon after his arrival, at
Islington, on the 14th of August.

In addition to his agricultural works Mr. Col-
man was the author of two volumes of sermons,
published during the period of his active ministe-
rial labors.

HENET LEE.

Henet Lee, the author of a spirited work on
Napoleon, and of a pungent volume on Jefferson,
was the son of General Henry Lee of the Revo-
lution, by his first wife Matilda, daughter of
Colonel Philip Tredwell Lee, who was long a
member of the King's Council, and the elder
brother of the two signers of the Declaration of
Independence, Richard Henry Lee and Francis
Lightfoot Lee, of Dr. Arthur Lee, who served his
country during the Revolution in several diplo-
matic appointments, and of William Lee, who
was an alderman of London when that struggle
commenced, but who heartily joined his brothers
in maintaining it, and afterwards became the
American Minister at the Hague.

SAMUEL G. DRAKE.

667

Henry Lee was born .at Stratford, Westmore-
land County, Virginia, 1787, in the same room dis-
tinguished as the birthplace of two of the signers
of the Declaration just mentioned. He was edu-
cated at William and Mary, where he became an
excellent Latin scholar, and developed a taste for
letters which accompanied him through life.
During the war of 1812 he was appointed by
Madison a Major in the twelfth regiment, de-
signed chiefly for interior defence, but soon went
to the Canadian frontier as Aide to General Wil-
kinson, and afterwards served General Izard in
the same capacity.

On his return from Canada he met the late
Edinburgh Reviewer, Jeffrey, in New York, then
at the height of his reputation. They were both
possessed of brilliant conversational powers, and
their meeting was the delight of the many enter-
tainments where they came together.

At the close of the war, Major Lee retired from
the army, and married Miss Ann M'Carty, whose
estate adjoined his own paternal Stratford, where
he lived many years, more devoted to hunting
than farming ; when only the odd hours of good
days, and the dull ones of wet weather, were
amused with books. The correspondent to whom
we are indebted for these details of his life, men-
tions as an anecdote of his skill with tiie rifle,
that he has often killed two wild ducks at one
shot, by firing as they swam slowly by each
other exactly as their necks came within the
ranse of a single ball.

He was first impelled to literary labor by
Judge William Johnson's Life of General Greene.
That work was deemed by him so unjust to his
father's fame, and that of his brave legion, that
he resolved to defend both, which he did with
success in an octavo volume entitled, Campaigns
of 1782 In the Carolinas* published in 1824-.
Major Lee having been by education and convic-
tion attached to the Federal school, was politi-
cally proscribed by the dominant, so called, demo-
cratic party. On the nomination of Jackson,
however, who had in 1812 opposed this proscrip-
tion, he became one of the most influential advo-
cates for his election, in a series of essays which
he published in his behalf.

He was appointed by Jackson as Consul at
Algiers, whither he proceeded in 1829, but his
appointment not having been confirmed by the
Senate, lie did not remain there a year. His clas-
sical recollections induced him to visit Italy on
his way home, and in Rome he saw Madame
Mere, the mother of Napoleon. His lively im-
pressions of the Italian campaigns of the latter,
and his admiration for the hero, induced him to
attempt a vindication of his character from slan-
der, and an adequate record of his deeds. He
was delayed in the execution of this congenial
task by the necessity he found himself under of
discharging a more private and sacred one. He
again entered the field as the defender of his
father's memory from assaults in the published
writings of Jefferson, and wrote his Observations
on, ths Writings of Thomas Jefferson, published

* The Campaism of 1781 in the Carolina"; with remarks
historical and critical on Johnson's Life of Greene, to which is
added an appendix of original documents relating to the his-
tory of the Revolution. By H. Lee. Phila. 1824. 8vo.

in New York in 1832.* As a controversial work
tiiis was written with ability, its arguments se-
curing the admiration of Judge Marshall. The
" Observations" made their mark, and have never
been directly answered, though Tucker's Life of
Jefferson touches on the topics involved. In 1845
it was republished with additional notes meeting
Tucker's remarks, by C. C. Lee, Esq., of Powha-
tan.

After completing this work, Major Lee devoted
himself to what he designed to be a Life of the
Emperor Napoleon, and the first volume was pub-
lished in Paris and New York with that title in
I835,t bringing the narrative to the year 1796. An
appendix of nearly half the volume is occupied
with an argumentative examination of the posi-
tions of Sir Walter Scott in his History of Bona-
parte.

Lee died before a second volume was completed
at Paris, January 30, 18374 After his death,
the first volume and tbe additional matter which
he had prepared, were published in a large octavo
in London and Paris, with the title, The Life of
Napoleon Bonaparte, down to the Peace of Tolen-
tino, and the close of his First Campaign in
Italy.

Riciiaed Heney Lee, the author of the lives
of his great grandfather, R. H. Lee, and of his
great uncle, Dr. Arthur Lee, is the son of the late
Tredwell Lee, of Loudon Count}', and Flora, the
second daughter of Colonel Philip Tredwell Lee,
of Stratford, Va. He studied law, and after
practising in the profession a few years, betook
himself to the more congenial pursuit of letters,
and is now a Professor in Washington College,
Pennsylvania.

SAMUEL G-. DRAKE.
Samuel G. Drake was born October 10, 1798,
at Pittsfleld, N. H. He was educated at the com-
mon schools of the neighborhood, at that time
held only during a few winter months. At the
age of twenty he became a district school teacher,

* Observations on the Writings of Thomas Jefferson, with
particular reference to the attack they contain on the memory
of the late General llenrv Lee, in a series of letters, by II. Lee
of Virginia. New York! 1832.

+ The Life of the Emperor Napoleon, with an Appendix,
containing an Examination of Sir Walter Scott's " Life of Na-
poleon Bonaparte;" and a notice of tho principal errors of
other writers, respecting his character and conduct. By II.
Lee. Vol. I. New York : Charles de Behr. 1835. We are not
aware that this work was translated into French. It was re-
ceived by eminent Frenchmen, as the Duke of Bassano, witli
great favor. General Napier, the author of the Peninsular
Campaigns, commended it highly.

X The following notice of his death appeared in GaliynanVs
(Paris) Sfeuengor at the time : —

"Death of Major Henry Lee, author of the Life of Napoleon,
&c., &c. This distinguished American has fallen a victim to
the epidemic which now pervades the capital. He expired
yesterday morning after much Buffering, from a short illness of
complicated influenza.

" In the prime of life, and in the full vigor of a well cultivat-
ed intellect, the. riches of which have already contributed to
the literature of the age. his untiring assiduity has been sud-
denly arrested in the promising career in which his hopeful
friends with so much pleasure saw him fast advancing.

" While letters lose in him a zealous votary, his numerous
friends, who know the greatness of soul which characterized
his actions, the suavity of his temper, his modesty and urbanity
of manners, will mine-le their tears with those of a disconsolate
widow, and long regret that 'that hand which was as firm in
friendship as it was strong In battle1 has been so soon palsied
by the cold grasp of death."

668

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

an occupation in which he was engaged for
seven years.

In 1830 Mr. Drake established the antiquarian
book store in Boston, with which his name has.
been long and favorably connected.

His labors as an antiquarian commenced in
1824, as editor of a reprint of Colonel Church's
History of King Philip's War, of which we have
already spoken. This was followed in 1832 by
the Indian Biography* and in 1833 by The
Book of the Indians, or a Biography and History
of the Indians of North America, a work of
much research and information, the popular suc-
cess of which is vouched for by the eleven editions
which have been published .f

In 1836 Mr. Drake published a number of con-
temporary narratives of the early colonial wars,
with the title, The Old Indian Chronicle. In 1839
he prepared Indian Captivities, a volume of the
original narratives of the sufterers.

In 18-47 the New England Historical and
Genealogical Register was commenced by Mr.
Drake, by whom it is still conducted, under the
auspices of a society of a similar title. It has
already done much for family and local history.

In 1852 Mr. Drake commenced the publication
of bis chief work, The History of Boston. It
will form when completed (as is anticipated with-
in the present year), a large octavo, profusely il-
lustrated with portraits, autographs, and views of
buildings and localities. It is a work of great re-
search, and contains much original information,
particularly in reference to the early discovery of
the New England coast, which has already been
of service to writers as well as readers of history.

HEJTET M. BEACKENEIDGE.

Henry M. Brackenridge is the son of the author
of Modern Chivalry, and was born in Pittsburg
the 11th of May, 1786. His father discovered in
him very early indications of superior intellect,
and resolved to give his personal attention to its
cultivation. The course of education was begun
almost in infancy, by himself with the assistance of
others ; and after ten years of age, excepting about
six months at the Pittsburgh academy, and about
the same length of time at Jefferson College, the
course of instruction was strictly private. At
seven years of age he was consigned to the charge
of a gentleman who visited Louisiana, and placed
at a French school at St. Genevieve, in Upper
Louisiana, for the purpose of learning the French
vernacularly. This was so successful that in less
than six months he had forgotten the English en-
tire]}'. Various causes prevented his being re-
stored to his home until near ten years of age.
It was at this time, Mr. Brackenridge states in his

* 12mo. pp. 350.

t The eleventh appeared in 1SD1. Svo. pp.

" Recollections," that his education commenced in
earnest. A little table was assigned him in his
father's private study, and instruction partly given
by his parent and partly by tutors under his di-
rection. Perhaps the greatest advantage to him
was derived from the continual intercourse with a
man of quick intellect and learning, who possessed
a happy method of communicating knowledge on
all subjects.

M

ftPftffiteMk****^

On the appointment of his father to the su-
preme bench of the state, 3"oung Brackenridge,
then fifteen years of age, was placed for two years
in the office of prothonotary or clerk of the court,
preparatory to entering the office of a practising
attorney for the purpose of studying law. His
range of reading and general information was sin-
gularly extensive for his age, and his mind re-
markably precocious, although his proficiency in
the ancient classics and in mathematics was not
equal to his other attainments ; this was owing to
not having carried the study of them into maturer
years, and the too great variety of his other stu-
dies. He had imbibed their quintessence, how-
ever, without the labor of digesting them in bulk;
thus forming his taste on the finest models ancient
and modern.

At the age of twenty Mr. Brackenridge was
admitted to the bar as a well grounded lawyer.
After this he repaired to the residence of his father
in Carlisle, where, under his directions, he eon-
tinned for a year ormore to apply himself to the law
of equity and maritime law, intending to qualify
himself for practice in Baltimore. On going to
that city he entered the office of a practitioner
in chancery; he also attended the court-, where
he had an" opportunity of hearing the able law-
yers who then flourished at that bar. His youth,
want of means to enable him to " bide his time,"
and the great numbers who occupied every branch
of the profession, discouraged him from attempt-
ing the practice without previous exercise of his
faculties on some more humble stage. Hearing
that there was but one lawyer in the town of So-
merset, he repaired to that place, and at once took

HENhY M. ERACKEXUIDGE.

GC9

possession of the office which had been recently
vacated by the death of the other. There being
but two lawyers in this place he had the satisfac-
tion of 1 leing engaged on one side or other of every
case, thus obtaining an opportunity of exercising
his faculties which had been denied in Baltimore.
The business was not so great as to deprive him of
ample leisure for reviewing his studies, and going
through a course of historical reading, revising
Gibbon, Robertson, Hume, and other classical
English writers. He had made some progress in
Italian and German, to which he regularly de-
voted a portion of his time. With the French
literature he was familiar. A year was thus
passed here to advantage, when he received a
letter from a friend in New Orleans who had been
appointed sheriff, and who promised a very tempt-
ing opening there in the profession.'

In the spring of 1810, Mr. Brackenridge took
his departure from Pittsburgh for Upper Lou-
isiana, being desirous of visiting the scenes of his
infancy, to which his recollections fondly clung.
He was most kindly received at St. Genevieve by
the family in which he had lived; and it happen-
ing to be the court week became engaged in several
important cases. From this place he went to St.
Louis and followed the spring circuit, but without
changing his ultimate determination of going to
the south. After the courts were over, instead
of taking an office he set to work to collect mate-
rials for an account of the country. These formed
a series of essays published in the only newspaper
of the country, and which were afterwards used as
the groundwork of his volume on Louisiana, a
work spoken of in high terms when published in
Pittsburgh in 1812, two years afterwards. He
availed himself, while at St. Louis, of the opportu-
nity of improving himself in the Spanish language
under an excellent teacher, aud afterwards made
himself master of it in Louisiana. Being addicted
to novices and few pleasures, he found abundance
of time to apply to study.

In the autumn of 1811, Mr. Brackenridge de-
scended the river to New Orleans in what was
called a keel-boat, steam not being then in use.
It was not more than' a month or two after his
arrival until he was appointed Deputy-Attorney-
General for the territory of Orleans, afterwards
State of Louisiana. When the constitution went
into operation the next year he received the ap-
pointment of District Judge, although not more
than twenty-three years of age. It became ne-
cessary to turn his attention to the Spanish law,
the Siete Parlidai, and to the Code Civil, &c, all
based on the Roman civil law. Here a wide field
opened before him, to which he devoted himself
for two or three years with great earnestness ; at
the same time giving a large portion of his atten-
tion to Spanish literature, for which he enjoyed
the best opportunities. lie acquired the language
so as to speak and write it with fluency. Luring
the latter part of the war of 1812 he corresponded
with the general government, and gave important
information as to the designs of the enemy and
the condition of the country for defence. In i 814,
in the month of September, he left Louisiana on a
visit to Washington on an invitation to engage in
a diplomatic capacity, hut was taken ill in Ken-
tucky, and did not reach the seat of government
until after peace had been proclaimed. His re-

ception by Mr. Madison was kind, and he was
introduced by him to Mr. Monroe, Secretary of
State, to whom he communicated his intentions in
his favor. In Mr. Monroe he afterwards found,
on all occasions, a warm and ardent friend. In
the meantime he took up his residence at Balti-
more. At the instance of a bookseller he wrote
a popular history of the incidents of the late war,
which still holds its place after passing through
many editions.- It was translated into French and
Italian by distinguished authors.

The question of the acknowledgment of the in-
dependence of the South American republics being
theorder of the day, Mr. Brackenridge, in conjunc-
tion with Mr. Clay, took an active part in their
favor ; he made numerous translations of South
American papers, and wrote for the newspapers on
the subject. But his principal production was a
pamphlet of a hundred pages, being in the form of
a letter by an " American," addressed to Mr. Mon-
roe, then President of the United States This
pamphlet was immediately republished in Eng-
land in the "Pamphleteer;" and it being sup-
posed to express the views of the American go-
vernment, the Spanish minister, the Duke de San
Carlos, employed a writer to prepare a reply.
This pamphlet of Mr. Brackenridge was translated
into French by the Abbe du Pradt, afterwards
Archbishop of Malines, who passed a high enco-
mium on the production.

About the same period a very elaborate disser-
tation appeared from his pen in Walsh's Register
in support of the views of the administration on
the subject of the "boundaries of Louisiana" as
described in the treaty of cession by France and
Spain. It was regarded as a conclusive argument
on the American side of the question.

The government in 1817 having determined to
send Commissioners to the South American re-
publics as a preliminary step to their recognition,
Mr. Brackenridge received the appointment of
Secretary. The commission sailed in the Con-
gress Frigate in Deoemher, and after visiting Bra-
zil, Buenos Ayres, and the island of Margaritta,
returned to New York in 1818. Mr. Bracken-
ridge availed himself of every opportunity to col-
lect information, and in the course of the year
published his Voyage to South America in two
volumes octavo, and an improved edition in Lon-
don the year after. This work was declared by
Humboldt to contain "an extraordinary mass of
information, and to be replete with philosophic
views."

This experience of diplomacy satisfied him ; lie
found that it was very uncertain as a pursuit in
this country, there being no diplomatic corps
where promotion might follow merit, as in the
army or navy. He, therefore, determined to pursue
his profession, and took an office and made some
successful efforts at the bar, by which he obtained
reputation but no regular business ; this could
only have been the result of time where the prac-
tice was already monopolized. Popularity, how-
ever, had been obtained ; he was twice elected to
represent the city in the state legislature : but
this only rendered mere professional success more
distant. His speech in favor of the liberty of
conscience, in the debate on what was called " the
Jew Bill," which was published, added to his
reputation. At the same time he published an

670

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

elaborate argument on the powers of the Court
of Equity, to compel a witness to disclose facts
on a bill of discovery to be used in another
state, there being no means to coerce his testi-
mony. This case has been since provided for by
an express act of Congress. The want of success
in obtaining clients began to render him impa-
tient, and he thought of the new countries to the
west and south, which offered a more immediate
prospect of occupation. About this time the
treaty of cession of Florida was negotiated, pre-
senting a new opening where the course would be
clear to him. On consulting with Mr. Monroe
and Mr. Adams he received assurances from those
gentlemen that he would be remembered in the
organization of the territorial government. He
accordingly proceeded to St. Louis in the fall of
1820, with the intention of going to Florida in the
spring, at which time the American government
■would take possession of the new acquisition.

In April, 1821, he took passage in a steamboat
for New Orleans, and on his way overtook Gene-
ral Jackson, who had been appointed Commis-
sioner to take possession of Florida, and after-
wards to act as governor. The boat in which he
had taken passage having been disabled, he and his
suite were transferred to the one which had over-
taken it. The General sent for Mr. Brackenridge
and requested him to join his military and diplo-
matic family in the capacity of a volunteer, his
services as a civilian, and his knowledge of the
French and Spanish languages, being a desidera-
tum in this party. He accordingly accompanied
the general to Pensaeola, and rendered him valu-
able assistance as secretary, negotiator, and coun-
sellor. That the General was well satisfied with
these services will appear from the following letter,
written from the first stage after his departure
from Florida.

Manuels, October 8, 1821.

Dear Sir, — I had a great desire to liave bad a few
njinutes' private conversation with you before I left
Pensaeola, but this, from the business with which I
was surrounded, was prevented me.

I hiid a wish personally to say to you, the grati-
tude I feel for the aid I have received from you in
the organization and administration of the govern-
ment, and to know if there was anything in which I
could render you any service. As you have made
Pensaeola your residence you can render much good
to the public and to yourself in a public capacity.
And as far as my influence will extend it will afford
me much pleasure in using it in your behalf. I
therefore will be grateful to receive a letter from
you addressed to me at Nashville, Tennessee, stating
whether you would prefer a seat in the judiciary or
any other office in the Floridas that would enable
3'ou to do the duties and pursue the practice of the
law. It will afford me great pleasure to forward to
Dr. Bronaugh letters in your behalf to obtain such
appointment as may be most agreeable to you. I
therefore request you to write to me on this subject.

Having left the administration of the government
in charge of Colonel Walton, for whom I have formed
a friendship, my dear sir/permit me to ask of you
your aid to him and his situation, a responsible one,
and I have a great desire that he may administer the
government satisfactorily to the nation and with
credit to himself.

Accept, my dear sir, a tender of my sincere regard
and unfeigned friendship.

Yours, Andrew Jackson.

In May, 1821, Mr. Brackenridge received the
appointment of United States Judge for the "West-
ern District of Florida, which office he continued
to fill for more than ten years to the general sa-
tisfaction. In 1832 General Jackson superseded
all the judges of the territories on the plan of
making room for political partisans. Mr. Brack-
enridge having married a lady of Philadelphia, in
whose right he held a valuable tract of land on
the Pennsylvania Canal near Pittsburgh, removed
to that place, where he now resides. He became
an active politician, made speeches, and published
pamphlets and articles for the reviews and news-
papers. In 1884 he published the first volume of
Ids Recollections of Persons and Places in the
West, the remainder being still in manuscript.
His publications of speeches, addresses, &c, are
numerous, but not collected into volumes. Among
his unpublished works are a History of the West-
ern Insurrection, one of the most important epi-
sodes in our national history.

At the election of General Harrison in 1840 he
obtained a seat in Congress, and the year follow-
ing was appointed a Commissioner under the
Mexican treaty, in conjunction with Governor
Marcy of New York. With this exception, and
the service of one session in the state legislature in
1844, he has remained in private life, but still de-
voted to letters. In 1847 he published a series of
letters in favor of the cause of the nation in the
Mexican war. His works are very numerous, and
as various as numerous, and exhibit an unusual
scope of knowledge on every subject. The essay
on Trusts and Trustees is a work which displays
legal research and acumen, although, like " Jones
on Bailment," intended to illustrate a particular
case. His Eulogy on Jefferson and Adanis, deli-
vered at Pensaeola in August, 1820, was highly
eulogized at the time by William Wirt. The con-
tinuation of the " Recollections" would form a
most valuable addition to our contemporary his-
tory, as few persons have had better opportuni-
ties of seeing and observing, or a more intimate
acquaintance with the prominent actors on the
tcene in his day, and few writers, we may add,
are better qualified to convey their impressions in
a full, minute, and agreeable manner. Mr. Brack-
enridge apparently writes with ease to himself,
and certainly with pleasure to his readers.

ST. GENEVIEVE ON THE MISSISSIPPI AT THE CLOSE OF THE
LAST CENTURY.*

My guardian carried me directly to the house of
M. Bauvais, a respectable and comparatively wealthy
inhabitant of the village, and then took his departure
the same evening. Hot a soul in the village, except
the curate, understood a word of English, and I was
possessed of but two French words, oui and non, I
sallied into the street, or rather highway, for the
houses were far apart, a large space being occupied
for yards and gardens by each. I soon found a
crowd of boys at play; curiosity drew them around
me, and many questions were put by them, which I
answered alternately, with the aid of the before
mentioned monosyllables, " Where have you come
from?" "Yes." "What is your name?" " No."
To the honour of these boys be it spoken, or rather
to the honour of their parents who had taught them
true politeness — instead of turning me into ridicule,

* From EecollcctlODS of the West.

HENRY M. BRACKENRIDGE.

671

as soon as they discovered I was a strange boy, they
vied with each other in showing me every act of
kindness.

M. Bauvnis was a tall, dry, old French Canadian,
dressed in the costume of the place : that is, with a
blue cotton handkerchief on his head, one corner
thereof descending behind and partly covering the
eel-skin which bound his hair ; a check shift ; coarse
linen pantaloons on his hips; and the Indian sandal
or moccasin, the only covering to the feet worn here
by both sexes. He was a man of a grave and serious
aspect, entirely unlike the gay Frenchmen we are
accustomed to see ; and this seriousness was not a
little heightened by the fixed rigidity of the max-
illary muscles, occasioned by having his pipe con-
tinually in his mouth, except while in bed, or at
mass, or during meals. Let it not be supposed that
I mean to speak disrespectfully, or with levity, of a
most estimable man ; my object in describing him is
to give an idea of many other fathers of families of
the village. Madame Bauvais was a large fat lady,
with an open cheerful countenance, and an expres-
sion of kindness and affection to her numerous off-
Spring, and to all others excepting her coloured do-
mestics, towards whom she was rigid and severe.
She was, notwithstanding, a most pious and excellent
woman, and, as a French wife ought to be, com-
pletely mistress of the family. Her eldest daughter
was an interesting young woman ; two others were
nearly grown, and all were handsome. I will tres-
pass a little on the patience of the reader, to give
some account of the place where I was domiciled;
that is, of the house in which I lived, and of the vil-
lage in which it was situated.

The house of M. Bauvais was a long, low build-
ing, with a porch or shed in front, and another in
the rear; the chimney occupied the centre, dividing
the house into two parts, with each a fire-place.
One of these served for dining-room, parlor, and
principal bed-chamber; the other was the kitchen;
and each had a small room taken off at the end for
private chambers or cabinets. There was no loft or
garret, a pair of stairs being a rare thing in the vil-
lage. The furniture, excepting the beds and the
looking-glass, was of the most common kind, con-
sisting of an arniuire, a rough table or two, and
gome coarse chairs. The yard was inclosed with
cedar pickets, eight or ten inches in diameter, and
six feet high, placed upright, sharpened at the top,
in the mnniier of a stockade fort. In front, the yard
was narrow, but in the rear quite spacious, and con-
taining the barn and stables, the negro quarters, and
all the necessary offices of a farm yard. Beyond
this, there was a spacious garden inclosed with
pickets, in the same manner with the yard. It was,
indeed, a garden — in which the greatest variety, and
the finest vegetables were cultivated, intermingled
with ttowers and shrubs : on one side of it there was
a small orchard containing a variety of the choicest
fruits. The substantial and permanent character of
these inclosures is in singular contrast with the
slight and temporary fences and palings of the Ame-
ricans. The house was a ponderous wooden frame,
which, instead of being weather-boarded, was filled
in with clay, and then whitewashed. As to the
living, the table was provided in a very different
manner from that of the generality of Americans.
With the poorest French peasant, cookery is an art
well understood. They make great use of vegeta-
bles, and prepared in a manner to be wholesome and
palatable. Instead of roost and fried, they had
soups and fricassees, and gumbos (a dish supposed
to be derived from the Africans), and a variety of
other dishes. Tea was not used at meals, and coffee
for breakfast was the privilege of M. Bauvais only.

From the description of this house, some idea may
be formed of the rest of the village. The pursuits
of the inhabitants were chiefly agricultural, although
all were more or less engaged in traffic for peltries
with the Indians, or in working the lead mines in the
interior. But few of them were mechanics, and there
were but two or three small shops, which retailed a
few groceries. Poultry and lead constituted almost
the only circulating medium. All politics, or dis-
cussions of the affairs of government, were entirely
unknown: the commandant took care of all that
sort of thing. But instead of them, the processions
and ceremonies of the church, and the public balls,
furnished ample matter for occupation and amuse-
ment. Their agriculture was carried on in a field
of several thousand acres, in the fertile river bottom
of the Mississippi, inclosed at the common expense,
and divided into lots, separated by some natural or
permanent boundary. Horses or cattle, depastured,
were tethered with long ropes, or the grass was cut
and carried to them in their stalls. It was a pleasing
sight, to mark the rural population going and return-
ing morning and evening, to and from the field, with
their working cattle, carts, old-fashioned wheel
ploughs, and other implements of husbandry. What-
ever they may have gained in some respects, I ques-
tion very much whether the change of government
has contributed to increase their happiness. About
a quarter of a mile off, there was a village of Kick-
apoo Indians, who lived on the most friendly terms
with the white people. The boys often intermingled
with those of the white village, and practised shoot-
ing with the bow and arrow; an accomplishment
which I acquired with the rest, together with a little
smattering of the Indian language, which I forgot on
leaving the place.

Such were the place, and the kind of people,
where, and among whom, I was about to pass some
of the most important years of my life, ami which
would naturally extend a lasting influence over me.
A little difficulty occurred very soon after my arri-
val, which gave some uneasiness to Madame Bauvais.
She felt some repugnance at putting a little heretic
into the same bed with her own children. This was
soon set right by the good curate, Pere St. Pierre,
who made a Christian of me, M. and Madame Bau-
vais becoming my sponsors, bj' which a relationship
was established almost as strong as that formed by
the ties of consanguinity. Ever after this, they per-
mitted me to address them by the endearing names
of father and mother ; and more affectionate, careful,
and anxious parents I could not have had. It was
such as even to excite a kind of jealousy among some
of their own children. They were strict and exem-
plary Catholics; so, indeed, were most of the inha-
bitants of the village. Madame Bauvais caused me
every night to kneel by her side, to say my pater
noster and credo, and then whispered those gentle
admonitions. which sink deep into the heart. To the
good seed thus early sown, I may ascribe any growth
of virtue, in a soil that might otherwise have pro-
duced only noxious weeds.

NOTICES OF THE AUTHORS FATHER JUDGE II. U. ERACKEN-
EIDGE.*

' My father undertook to instruct me in the Latin
and Greek. He was himself a most finished classical
scholar, having been a tutor at Princeton, and after-
wards the principal of an academy on the eastern
shore of Maryland ; and he was as proud of the suc-
cess in'life of his pupils, and took as much credit to
himself for it, as Porson. He considered the classics
all in all, and thought no person could be esteemed a

* From Recollections of the West.

673

CYCLOPEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

scholar without them. According to his estimate,
even Franklin had no higher claim than that of a
strong-minded imperfecta educated man, who would
have been much greater if he had been bred at a
college, which I think very questionable. We are
apt to overrate the importance of those pursuits in
which we excel, or to which we have devoted much
of our time and application. This I think was the
case with him, and he was inclined to place too high
a value on the talents of those who were critically
versed in the masterpieces of Greece and Rome.

#**•*.**■:*

But in my opinion, by far the most valuable por-
tion of my education consisted in his conversation, or
rather lectures, for he spoke to .me alw&3"s as to a
man. He was near fifty years of age, and had been
a remarkable student from his childhood, and was
surpassed by few in the depth and variety of his at-
tainments. He appeared to live more in the world
of books than of men, and yet his natural genius was
of such high order, that it is questionable whether he
would not have been greater by depending more on
his native resources. His conversation abounded
with wit and eloquence, and original views on every
subject. The advantages derived from constant as-
sociation with such a man can be imagined, but can
scarcely be appreciated. Although there is no royal
road to science, yet the road may be shortened, and
rendered more accessible, by the assistance of such a
teacher. I had all the benefit of his matured intel-
lect, and highly refined ideas upon a thousand sub-
jects.

At this time my father was unhappily plunged so
deep in party politics, that he almost lost sight of
me. Federalism and democracy were then at their
height. He was a supporter of Jefferson and M'Kean,
an enthusiast in the cause of France, and, from his
high temperament, incapable of pursuing anything in
moderation. He was also involved in a personal
difference with the presiding judge of the court in
which he practised, and fearful that he might be
provoked to do something which might be taken ad-
vantage of, he resolved to retire from practice. He
wrote with the pungency and force of a Junius, and
spoke with the inspired eloquence of a Henry ; it is,
therefore, not to be wondered at, that he soon be-
came a formidable politician. He purchased types
and press, and set up a young man as editor of a
paper, which he previously named the " Tree of Li-
berty," with a motto from Scripture — " And the
leaves' of the tree shall be for the healing of the na-
tion." At this period, with very few exceptions, the
professional men, persons of wealth and education,
and those in public offices, were on the federul side ;
and such was the violence of party dissensions, that
it put a stop to all the pleasures of social intercourse ;
party differences and personal animosity almost sig-
nified the same thing. He wrote a number of things,
sometimes in prose sometimes in verse, which I read
with great delight and often committed to memory,
being of course a violent democrat as well as him-
self. The great majority, both in town and country,
was then on the federal side ; but fifty republicans
could be mustered in Pittsburgh, and not all these
were entitled to put a ticket into the ballot-box.
The success in the elections of M'Kean and Jefferson
soon effected a numerical change : according to the
usual course of things, the strongest side is apt to
grow still stronger on that account; and the rising
party is apt to continue to rise, as revolutions never
go backwards.

*******

I now became a student in earnest, devoting at
least thirteen or fourteen hours out of the twenty-

four to my bonks, under the instruction of my father,
when he was permitted by the duties of his circuit
to remain at home. All my wants were kindly at-
tended to by my step-mother, leaving me nothing to
think of but my books. Our house was but little
resorted to, except by literary men ; in fact books
and reading formed the occupation of its inmates.
My little sister read the newspapers at three years
old, my youngest brother was learning his Latin and
French at six or seven, and the elder at fourteen was
translating Longinus, and the two works of Xeno-
phon — the Anabasis and Cyropedia, into literal Eng-
lish, line for line, and word for word, and then put-
ting it into idiomatic English, writing sentence by
sentence, under the direction of my father, who con-
sidered this, with his lectures and instructions, a
practical course of rhetoric. As to himself he never
dined out or invited to dinner, and was unwilling to
see company until after tea ; when persons dropped
in to hear his conversation, in which none excelled
him, although during the day it was difficult to get
him to say a word except on business. It was indeed
a treat to hear him speak when he chose to unbend.
He was an improvisateur of the first order. I have
heard him relate a story, when the illusion was so
perfect, that the hearer would suppose there were
half a dozen characters on the stage. Jeffrey, in one
of the numbers of the Edinburgh Review, says that
Matthews was inferior to him in relating a story.
He was entirely different; there was no buffoonery
or broad humour, either in the choice of his subject
or in his manner. Compared to the stories of Mat-
thews, it was genteel comedy or tragedy compared
to broad farce. He generally walked about, and
seemed to require this, in order to give full play to
his powers. It is remarkable, that what he said on
the bench while seated, had nothing of his usual elo-
quence; and when he was eloquent there, wldch
was but seldom, he rose upon his feet.

He frequently dictated to me, sometimes chapters
for " Modern Chivalry," sometimes essays for various
newspapers, chiefly on European politics, with which
he was singularly conversant. It was difficult to
keep pace with him. He directed the punctuation
of every sentence as he went along. He had been in
this habit for a great many years. His hand-writing
had become so bad, that it was almost impossible for
any one to decipher it ; so much so that a trick was
once played upon him by a gentleman, who sent
back one of his letters which he could not read, first
tearing off the signature and putting his own in the
place of it ; my father attempted in vain to make out
the scrawl! He would have been an over match for
Kapoleon in bad handwriting. He often dictated
his verse as well as his prose. I remember when a
small bo}T, having committed to memory some lines
on General Wayne, which were composed in bed.
and dictated in the morning to one of the students.
They were the first lines of poetry I ever committed.
No one was ever more careless in preserving his
compositions. He troubled himself as little about
them as he did for the fugitive effusions of his dis-
course. He once dictated to me a Pindaric ode on
hearing the report of the death of Governor M'Kean,
which turned out to be false.

The lines on Wayne have been much admired : as
they will occupy but little space I will transcribe
them. Some of the thoughts are like Byron's. In-
deed I have often thought there was a remarkable
resemblance in some of the features of their minds,
and modes of thinking on a variety of subjects. It
is curious that they both chose the 6ame subject for
a poem, and a very out of the way subject it was —
the judgment upon poor George the Third in the
other world ! The lines on Wavnc are as follows : —

FRANCIS GLASS.

673

The birth of some great rnen, or death,
Gives a celebrity to spots of earth ;
We say that Montcalm fell on Abraham's plain;
That Batter presses the Miami bank;
And that the promontory of Sigeum
Has Achilles's tomb.
Presq Isle saw "Wayne expire.
The traveller shall sec his raonumeDt;
At least his grave. For this,
Corroding jealousy will not detract;
But allow a mound —
Some little swelling of the earth,
To mark the interment of his bones.
Brave, honest soldier, sleep —
And let the dews weep o'er thee,
And gales shall sigh across the lake ;
Till man shall recognise thy worth,
And coming to the place will ask,
11 Is this where Wayne is buried ?"

ADAMS AND JEFFERSON.*

Adams and Jefferson are gone — Let us moumthe
sad reality of their loss— let us rejoice in the glory
of their departure — let us condole with that solitary
and venerable man, the companion of their glory,
Carroll, the model of the accomplished gentleman,
the scholar, and the patriot. Washington, Franklin,
Jefferson, Adams, have passed to another, and a
happier existence, but their names will be associated
here, as the founders of a mighty republic. Washing-
ton, by the suffrage of all posterity, and of the
universe, has been assigned the first place ; not be-
cause he wielded the sword, and crowned the great
work with success, but because his virtues as a
citizen, his abilities as a statesman, hiB authority as a
magistrate, his godlike purity and disinterestedness
as a patriot, placed him beyond the reach of envy,
of rivalry, of competition. Nor should we conclude,
that because Adams and Jefferson have not been seen
at the head of legions, they were destitute of the
courage and capacity for command ; such minds can-
not be allied to fear, and those who ruled the desti-
nies of nations might have commanded armies.

We may seek in vain through the whole range of
history, for a parallel to the lives and deaths of
Adams and Jefferson. It would have been remarked
as extraordinary* if any one of our revolutionary
worthies had departed amid the glory of this anni-
versary ; still more if that one had been instrumen-
tal in bringing about the great event ; but when it
shall be told, that both the author and the advocate
of the declaration, so pregnant with the fate of un-
born millions, departed on that day, after having
lived the exact period of half a century from its
date, it will require all the weight of cotemporary
evidence, to place it on the records of history, and
all the faith of posterity to give it credit. It was
natural that the minds of both should linger upon
that most brilliant moment of their lives, and that
it should be the last spot of earthly vision to fade
from their vieiv; but that a secret sympathy should
exist between their kindred spirits, calling them to
wing their flight to the regions of immortality at the
same moment, is a circumstance at which we must
pause, and adore the inscrutable designs of Provi-
dence.

To their children, for we may now call them our
fathers, it is a pleasing reflection, that if ever for a
moment, the warm and sincere friendship, which had
commenced with the morning of our liberties, had
been clouded by the demon of party long before the
close of their lives, it had been renewed into the
most generous ardor, beyond the power of malevo-
lence. In the lives of these great men, the historian
will delight to trace the numerous points of coinci-
dence. They were both educated in the profession
of the law, a profession, which, in a free country, in

* The conclusion of the author's " Eulogv," 1S26.
VOL. I.— 43

a government of laws, and not of men, when liberally
pursued, deserves to be considered as the guardian
of its liberties. Before our revolutionary contest,
they had both been engaged in preparing the minds
of their countrymen for the separation, and with
Franklin, were probably among the first to foresee
its necessity, and pursue a systematic plan for its
accomplishment. As members of the first congress,
the one from the principal colony of the north, the
other of the south, they took the lead in bringing
forward and sustaining the important measure ; they
displayed at the same time those characteristics,
which, according to the author of Anacharsis, con-
stitute true courage — they knew their danger, feared
it, yet encountered it with unshaken firmness. To
both were confided the most important trusts abroad ;
first, to negotiate peace and amity with the nations
of F.urope, and next, as the first representatives of our
government, at the two principal courts ; Jefferson to

i that of Paris, and Adams to that of London. They
both filled in succession the second station in the
government; and were both afterwards elevated to

I the first. For many years after their retirement,
they were both the objects of peculiar veneration to
their countrymen. They saw, in the simple retire-

! merit of private citizens, those distinguished men,

I who had been the chief magistrates of a great people,
and who had filled a station more dignified than that
of kings. In their great age, we are reminded of the
celebrated philosophers of Greece; and much is to
be ascribed to the power of that intellect, which they
preserved unimpaired, so highly cultivated, so habi-
tually exercised ; whose embalming influence almost
controlled and retarded the decay of nature. The
closing scene of their lives rendered the coincidence
almost perfect. But the doom of man is inevitable.
If virtues, and talents, and good services could secure
immortality on earth, our Washington had still
lived. Let us not then repine at the unvarying laws
of nature, and of nature's God, which have created
the vicissitudes of day and night, the changes of the
seasons, and have appointed a time for every living
thing to die. Under the guidance of hope and faith,
let us keep in view the celestial light, which, if
steadily pursued, will conduct us safely through this
vale of trouble and disappointment, to the regions of
happiness and immortality, where we shall meet
again with those whom we esteemed, and loved, and
venerated on earth. 0 illustrious names of Washing-
ton, Franklin, Jeffekson, Adams ! delightful to
every American ear — dear to humanity — ever living
in the remembrance of posterity ! Cities may disap-
pear— empires may fall — monuments may be crum-
bled into dust — but unless the light of civilization
and science shall be extinguished by an eternal
night of barbarism, your fame and your honors shall
endure for ever.

FRANCIS GLASS.
The author of the Vita Washingtonii is known
to us only from the few facts presented in the
pleasant English preface to the work by tha
editor, Mr. J. 1ST. Reynolds,* from which wo find
that the author was educated in Philadelphia,
became a teacher in the interior of Pennsylvania,
where he formed an unhappy marriage, and his
means not sufficing for the maintenance of a .
rapidly increasing family, he removed in 1817 or

* Mr. Reynolds is the author of a "Voyage of the United
States' Frigate Potomac, 1831-1834," published at New York
in 1S35. He was a prominent advocate of the Exploring Ex-
pedition to the Pacific and South Seas, on which subject he
published an address in 133G ; he has also contributed several
spirited nautical sketches to the Knickerbocker Magazine.

674

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

1818 to the Miami country, where he led a va-
grant life as a teacher in various places.

In 1823 Mr. Reynolds, who had passed through
a portion of the course of studies at the Ohio
University, being unable to return to the institu-
tion, made inquiries for a competent instructor
with whom he could complete his classical edu-
cation, and hearing of Glass in this connexion,
determined to visit him. " I found him," says
Mr. Reynolds, " in a remote part of the county,
in a good neighbourhood of thrifty farmers, who
had employed him to instruct their children, who,
in general, were then acquiring the simplest rudi-
ments of an English education. The school-house
now rises fresh on my memory. It stood on the
banks of a small stream, in a thick grove of native
oaks, resembling more a den for Druidical rites,
than a temple of learning. The building was a
low log-cabin, with a clapboard roof, but indiffer-
ently tight — all the light of heaven, found in this
cabin, came through apertures made on each side
in the logs, and these were covered with oiled
paper to keep out the cold air, while they ad-
mitted the dim rays.

" The seats, or benches, were of hewn timbers,
resting on upright posts, placed in the ground to
keep them from being overturned by the mis-
chievous urchins who sat on them. In the
centre was a large stove, between which and the
back part of the building, stood a small desk,
without lock or key, made of rough plank, over
which a plane had never passed ; and, behind
this desk, sat Professor Glass when I entered his
school.

" There might have been forty scholars present;
twenty-live of these were engaged in spelling,
reading, and writing, a few in arithmetic, a small
class in English grammar ; and a half a dozen,
like myself, had joined his school, for the benefit
of his instruction in the Greek and Latin lan-
guages, preparatory to a more extended course in
one of the Ohio seminaries.

"The moment he learned that my intention
was to pursue the study of the languages with
him, his whole soul appeared to beam from his
countenance. He commenced in a strain which
in another would have seemed pedantic, but
which, in fact, was far from being so in him.

" The following imperfect sketch, drawn en-
tirely from memory, may serve to give some idea
of his peculiar manner: — ' Welcome to the shrine
of the Muses, my young friend, Salve! Xaigt !
The temple of the Delphian God was originally a
laurel hut, and the Muses deign to dwell, accord-
ingly, even in my rustic abode. u Non humilem
domum fastidiunt, wrribroswmive ripam." Here,
too, the winds hold converse, " Eurus, and
Oaurus, and Argestes loud," and the goddesses of
the Castalian fountain, the daughters of the
golden-haired Mnemosyne, are sometimes silent
with the lyre, " cilhara tacentes," that they may
catch the .sweet murmurs of the harp of /Eolus.
Here, too, I, the priest of the muses, Musarum
sacerdos, sing, to the young of either sex, strains
befire unheard, Virginibus pverisqve canto.
Plutns, indeed, that blind old deity, is far away;
and far away let him be, for well has the prince
of comic pi ers styled him a " filthy, crooked,
miserable, wrinkled, bald, and toothless creature I"
^■Jttojvra, xvfybv, aSXiov, Qvauv, /xabupra, vubov.1 "

Glass had already commenced the Life of
Washington in Latin, which formed the darling
object of his life, but his progress had been
greatly interrupted by his poverty. By the aid

J of his new friend, he was enabled to remove to
Dayton, where he could pursue his literary labors

I with greater convenience. His friend also agree-
ing to find a publisher for the Life, Glass returned
to the work with renewed energy, and ere the
close of the following winter, delivered the
manuscript.

Mr. Reynolds soon after left the country. On
his return the only intelligence he could obtain
of the Lati nist was that he had died during his
friend's absence. The precise place and date
were alike unknown.

Gla-s's work appeared in 1835, from the press
of the Harpers, with the title, Georrjii Washing-

| tonii, America Septentrionalis Civitatum Foede-
ratarum Prasidis primi, Vita, Francisco Glass,
A.M. Ohioensi, Literis Latinis Conscripta. It
forms an openly printed volume of two hundred
and twenty-three pages. Its latinity has gene-
rally met the approval ofscholars, and it has been
used as a text-book by teachers.

PINKNEY'S TRAVELS IN FEANCE.

A very pleasant and readable tourist's book was
published in London in 1809, in 4to., by Lt. Col.
Pinkney, of the North American Native Rangers as
the author is described in the title-page. We regret'
that we know nothing of him personally beyond
what this book affords; for it invites further
acquaintance. Its title is set forth at length —
Travels through the South of France and in the
Interior of the provinces of Prove nee and Lan-
guedoc, in the years 1807 and 1808, by a route
never before performed, being along the banks of
the Loire, the hire, and the Garonne, through
the greater part of their course, made by permis-
sion of the French government. The CJuarterly
received the volume with a professional sneer, to
which it had a double incentive in the book being
written by an American and preferring France to
England. We find it, however, not forgotten in
1814, when it reappeared in a handsomely printed
octavo. Lately Leigh Hunt, who has introduced
several entertaining scenes from it in his " Book
for a Corner," speaks of the sensation which it
created thirty years ago, when it set all the
world upon going to France to live on the charm-
ing banks of the Loire. It might well make Eng-
lishmen, spite of anti-Gallican prejudices, out of
conceit with their fogs and east winds by its de-
lightful pictures of the south of France, the purity
and salubrity of the atmosphere, the out-of-door
life of idyllic shepherds amidst abundant fruits
and flowers, and the easily excited gaiety which
overpowered the hardships of poverty.

Lt. Pinkney sailed from Baltimore for- Liver-
pool in April, 1807, and very seldom afterwards
troubles his reader with a date, a deficiency not
unusual with books where information of the
kind is most needed. Arriving in the early sum-
mer at Calais he purchases a Norman horse,
upon whose back he manages before he gets
through, counting cross-roads and deviations, to
accomplish his two thousand miles, reaching
Marseilles, the end of his journey, spite of the
additional year on the title-page, in the follow-

PINKNEY'S TRAVELS IN FRANCE.

675

ing autumn. Arriving at Paris, having taken on
his way Amiens, Abbeville, Clermont, and Clian-
tilly, lie finds Gen. Armstrong American minister
at Paris, who introduces him in an imposing
levee to the Emperor, whom he 'sees " dressed
very splendidly in purple velvet, the coat and
waistcoat embroidered with gold bees, and with
the grand star of the Legion of Honor worked
into the coat : his person below the middle size,
but well compos ;d ; his features regular, but in
their tout ensemble stern and commanding; his
complexion sallow, and his general mien military.
He passed no one without notice, and to all the
ambassadors he spoke once or twice. When he
reached General Armstrong, he asked him
whether America could not live without foreign
commerce as well as France? and then added,
without waiting for his answer, "There is one
nation in the world which must be taught by
experience that her merchants are not necessary
to the existence of all other nations, and that she
cannot hold us all in commercial slavery : Eng-
land is only sensible in her compters."

An agreeable party was made up in Paris con-
sisting of Mr. Younge, the secretary of the Ameri-
can legation, his newly married wife, a niece of
the celebrated Lally Tolendal, and her sister
Mademoiselle St. Sillery, with whom our traveller
sets forth towards the end of July, in a carriage
and horseback expedition for the Loire. He
gleaned statistics and general information from
his friend the husband, admired the wife, and
was more than half in love with the sister, who
furnishes for almost every page of the gallant
Lieutenant new proofs of the charming qualities
of her sex and nation. It is amusing to observe
how fill of meaning and interest the simplest
remark is from the lips of this beautiful woman.
"'How happy might a hermit be,' said Made-
moiselle St. Sillery, 'in a cottage on the side of
one of those hills! There is a wood for him to
walk in, and a brook to encourage him b3T its
soft murmurs to sleep.' I agreed in the observa-
tion," naively adds the enamored Lieutenant,
" which exiictly characterizes the scenery." The
maids along the route are continually entangling
the susceptible officer in admissions as to the sur-
passing beauty of this lady or their own. One
tine morning, after leaving St. Valier, the trees
were so "uncommonly beautiful," the meadow
flowers of such " more than garden sweetness
and brilliancy, the birds, moreover, singing mer-
rily," Mademoiselle was " in such life and spirits,
that it was not without .difficulty that we de-
tained her in her seat!" It is a very pretty
little comedy throughout. We do occasionally
hear of the price of land, the yield of wheat,
and the number of eggs to the shilling, but these
are unimportant interruptions to the perpetual
study of attractive filles de ehambre* and Wat-
teau pictures of fetes and dances, with genuine
stage peasants in flowers and ribbons, and night-
ingales singing in the groves. If to be pleased

* We may compare his (ray sketches of1807 with the observa-
tions of a much more staid personage, Erasmus, i.i the fifteenth
century. Both are equally delighted wilh ihe lively conversa-
tion of the maids at Lyons, and alike piquant in their cxpros- [
6ion of it Erasmus's account of these fascinations is in his
famous Inn Scenes, " Diversorium," in the Colloquies. Sir
Walter Scott has adopted this dramatic sketch literally in I
bis Anne of Geierstein. I

oneself secures that enjoyment to others, our tra-
veller attains the desirable object. A hardship is
scarcely a discomfort in his smooth, easy, negligent
style. The manners of the book are somewhat
Frenchified, which is not the -fault of the writer, un-
less he is bound to shut his eyes and ears to what
is characteristic of the country; and something
may be yielded perhaps to the proverbial reputa-
tion of bis profession for gallantry. In a book, as
well as in a drawing-room, a man may be allowed
occasionally .to sacrifice something of his dignity
for the entertainment of the company.

PASSPORT 6CENE AT CALAIS IN THE DAYS OF THE EMPIRE.

After our luggage had undergone the customary
examination by the officers of the customs, in the
execution of which office a liberal foe procured us
much civility, we were informed that it was neces-
sary to present ourselves before the Commissary,
for that so many Englishmen had obtained admission
as Americans, that the French government had
found it necessary to have recourse to unusual
strictness, and that the Commissary had it in his
orders not to suffer any one to proceed till after the
most rigid inquiry into his passport and business.

Accordingly, having seen our luggage into a
wheel-barrow, which the Captain insisted should
accompany us, we waited upon the Commissary,
but were not fortunate enough to find him ac his
office. A little dirty boy informed us, that- Mons.
Mangonit had gone out to visit a neighbor, but that
if we would wait till twelve o'clock (it was now
about nine), Ave should infallibly see him, and have
our business duly dispatched. The office in which
we were to wait for this Mons. Mangonit for three
hours, was about five feet in length by three in
width, very dirty, without a chair, and in every
respect resembling a cobbler's stall in one of the
most obscure streets of London. Mons. Commissary's
inkstand was a coffee-cup without an handle, and
his book of entries a quire of dirty writing-paper.
This did not give us much idea either of the per-
sonal consequence of Mons. Mangonit, or of the
grandeur of the Republic.

The boy was sent out to summon his master, as a
preferable way to our waiting till twelve o'clock.
Monsieur at length male his appearance ; a little,
mean-looking man, with a very dirty shirt, a well
powdered head, a smirking, bowing coxcomb. He
informed us with many apologies, unnecessary at
least in a public officer, that he was under the
necessity of doing his duty ; that his duty was to
examine us according to some queries transmitted to
him ; but that we appeared gentlemen, true Ameri-
cans, and not English spies.

After a long harangue, in which the little gentle-
man appeared very much pleased with himself, he
concluded by demanding our passport, upon sight
of which he declared himself satisfied, and promised
to make us out others for passing into the interior.
We were desired to call for these in the evening, or
he would himself do us the honor to wait upon us
with them at our hotel. Considering the latter as a
kind of self-invitation to dine with us, we mentioned
our dinner hour and other et ceteras. Mons. Man-
gouit smiled his acquiescence, and we left him, in
the hopes that he would at least change his linen.
********

We returned to Quillac's to dinner, which, ac-
cording to our orders, was composed in the English
style, except a French dish or two for Mons. Man-
gouit. This gentleman now appeared altogether as
full-dressed as he hud before been in full dishabille.
We exchanged much conversation on Calais and

676

CYCLOPAEDIA OF AMERICAN LITERATURE.

England, and a word or two respecting the French
Emperor. He appeared much better informed than
we had previously concluded from his coxcombical
exterior. He seemed indeed quite another man.

He accompanied us after dinner to the comedy :
the theatre is within the circuit of the inn. The
performers were not intolerable, and the piece,
which was what they call a proverb (a fable con-
structed so as to give a ludicrous verification or con-
tradiction to an old saying), was amusing. I thought
I had some obscure recollection of a face amongst
the female performers, and learned afterwards, that
it was one of the maids of the inn ; a lively brisk
girl, and a volunteer, from her love of the drama.
In this period of war betweeu England and France,
Calais has not the honor of a dramatic corps to her-
self, but occasionally participates in one belonging
to the district.

The play being over very early, we finished the
evening in our own style, a proceeding we had cause
to repent the following day, as the Cute rotie did not
agree with us so well as old Fort. I suffered so much
from the consequent relaxation, that I never repeated
the occasion. It produced still another effect ; it re-
moved my previous admiration of French sobriety.
There is little merit, I should think, in abstaining
from such a constant use of medicine.

PETE CHAMPETRE IN A VILLAGE ON A HILL AT MONTEET7TL.

Not being pressed for time, the beauty of a scene
at some little distance from the road-side tempted
me to enter into a by-lane, and take a nearer view
of it. A village church, embosomed in a chesnut
wood, just rose above the trees on the top of a hill ;
the setting sun was on its casements, and the foliage
of the wood was burnished by the golden reflection.
The distant hum of the village green was just audi-
ble ; but not so the French horn, which echoed in
full meloly through the groves. Having rode
about half a mile through a narrow sequestered
lane, which strongly reminded me of the half-green
and half-trolden by-roads in Warwickshire, I came
to the bottom of the hill, on the brow and summit
of which the village and church were situated. I
now saw whence the sound of the horn proceeded.
On the left of the road was an ancient chateau situ-
ate 1 in a park, or very extensive meadow, and
ornamented as well by some venerable trees, a3 by a
circular fence of flowering shrubs, guarded on the
outside by a paling o.i a raised mound The park
or meadow having been newly mown, had an air at
once ornamented and natural. A party of ladies
were collected under a patch of trees situated in the
middle of the lawn. I stopped at the gate to look
at them, thinking myself uupereeived; but in the
same moment the gate was opened to me by a gen-
tleman and two ladies, who were walking the
round. An explanation was now necessary, and
was accordingly given. The gentleman informed
me upon his part, that the chateau belonged to
Mous. St. Quentin, a member of the French Senate,
and a Judge of the District ; that he had a party of
friends with him upon the occasion of his lady's
birth-day, and that they were about to begin dan-
cing ; that Mods. St. Quentin would highly con-
gratulate himself on my accidental arrival. One of
the ladies, having previously apologized and left us,
had seemingly explained to Mons. St. Quentin the
main circumstance belonging to me ; for he now ap-
peared, and repeated the invitation in his own per-
son. The ladies added their kind importunities. I
dismounted, gave my horse to a servant in waiting,
and joined this happy and elegant party, for sueh it
really was.

I had now, for the first time, an opportunity of

END OF

forming an opinion of French beauty, the assemblage
\ of ladies being very numerous, and all of them most
elegantly dressed. Travelling, and the imitative
arts, have given a most surprising uniformity to all
the fashions of dress and ornament : and, whatever
may be said to the contrary, there is a very sbght
difference between the scenes of a French and Eng-
lish polite assembly. If any thing, however, be
distinguishable, it is more in degree than in sub-
stance. The French fashions, as I saw them here,
differed in no other point from what I had seen in
London, but in degree. The ladies were certainly
more exposed about the necks, and their hair was
dressed with more fancy; but the form was in
almost every thing the same. The most elegant
novelty was a hat, which doubled up like a fan, so
that the ladies carried it in their hands. There
were more colored than white muslins; a variety
which had a pretty effect amongst the trees and
flowers. The same observation applies to the gen-
tlemen. Their dresses were made as iu England;
but the pattern of the cloth, or some appendage to
it, was different. One gentleman, habited in a
grass-colored silk coat, had very much the ap-
pearance of Beau Mordecai in the farce: the ladies,
however, seemed to admire him, and in some con-
versation with him I found him, in despite of his
coat, a very well informed man. There were like-
wise three or four fancy dresses ; a Dian, a wood-
nymph, and a sweet girl playing upon a lute, habit-
ed according to a picture of Calypso by David. On
the whole, there was certainly more fancy, more
taste, and more elegance, than in an English party
of the same description : though there were not so
many handsome women as would have been the
proportion of such an assembly iu England.

A table was spread handsomely and substantially
under a very large and lofty marquee. The out-
side was very prettily painted for the occasion —
Venus commemorating her birth from the ocean.
The French manage these things infinitely better
than any other nation in the world. It was neces-
sary, however, for the justice of the compliment, that
the Venus should be a likeness of Madame St
Quentin, who was neither very young nor very
handsome. The painter, however, got out of the
scrape very welL

A small party accompanied me into the village,
which was lively, and had some very neat houses.
The peasantry, both men and women, had hats of
straw; a manufactory which Mons. St. Quentin had
introduced. A boy was reading at a cottage door.
I had the curiosity to see the book. It was a vo-
lume of Marmontel. His mother came out, invited
us into the house, and in the course of some con-
versation, produced some drawings by this youth :
they were very simple, and very masterly. The
ladies purchased them at a good price. He had
attained this excellence without a master, anil Mons.
St. Quentin, as we were informed, had been so
pleased with him, as to take him into his house.
His temper and manners, however, were not in
unison with his taste, and his benefactor had been
compelled to restore him to his mother, but still
intended to send him to study at Paris. The boy's
countenance was a direct lie to Lavater; his air
was heavy, and absolutely without intelligence.
Mons. St. Quentin had dismissed him his house on
account of a very malignant sally of passion; a
horse having thrown him by accident, the young
demon took a knife from his pocket, and deliberately
stabbed him three several times. Such was a pea-
sant boy, now seemingly enveloped in the interesting
simplicity of Marmontel. How inconsistent is what
is called character !
VOL. ONE.

I

UNIVERSITY OF N.C. AT CHAPEL HILL

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